[The Execution of Ma Su]
The peace of the South must be preserved.
James Seuret did not simply grab anyone who was reported to him, as he had promised.
"Hmm... while you have made radical remarks in the past, most of them were criticisms directed at the Black population, and you have rarely spoken about Northern policies."
"Ah, that’s exactly it! I just really don’t like the damn darkies, that’s all!"
"It would be difficult to conclude from this alone that you shared sympathies with the traitors. Do not worry. I will handle this cleanly for you."
"Ohhh! Thank you, thank you! As expected, Mr. Seuret, you are a fair and impartial man. I knew I could trust you!"
True to his word to Nathan Bedford Forrest, James Seuret selected only those who were truly politically dangerous and handed them over to the court.
As for the others—those who had merely drunkenly ranted in a fit of rage, or influential figures who were on the KKK list but had stopped at criticizing Black people—he extended the magnanimity of quietly letting them go.
Of course, he didn't just send them away for free.
"However, sir."
"Yes, yes! Just tell me what to do."
"The current situation is not good. The North is watching us with wide-open eyes. If there are people who oppress Black people too visibly or openly oppose Northern policies at a time like this... it puts all of us in danger."
An attempted assassination of the President and an attempted coup in Congress—the reality of the South was a ridiculous situation where both had occurred at once, and either one alone would have been enough to cause chaos. Seuret’s voice dropped to a secretive whisper.
"Don't we need some trash to clear out as an example? That is the only way we survive."
"Ah... I suppose that is true, but they are still our fellow white comrades, so isn't it a bit too harsh..."
The man wore a troubled expression. As he struggled between his sense of comradeship and his survival instinct, Seuret smiled thinly.
"Just trust me."
Then, he pursed his lips and whistled shortly.
Tweet, tweet, tweet.
Three short sounds.
In an instant, the man’s eyes widened like ping-pong balls. He had suspected it, but to think the rumors were true. He looked around, then responded with a short, trembling whistle.
Tweet.
The secret signal by which KKK members recognized one another. The reason the Grand Wizard had insisted that there was nothing to fear was because there was indeed a reliable connection. And it was a connection so strong and sturdy that it wouldn't snap even if the entire KKK hung from it.
"The Invisible Dragon... who protects the Invisible Empire."
"......"
"To think that Mr. Seuret is on our side... I feel truly reassured. If it is the will of the organization, we will naturally follow the policy you have proposed."
The corners of Seuret’s mouth twisted slightly as he met that gaze, which was filled with awe. He almost lost control of his expression, but he managed to maintain a solemn look and nodded.
Thus, the saved KKK members became Seuret’s loyal chess pieces. For the sake of their own survival and for the reputation of the Invisible Dragon, they mercilessly sold out the comrades deemed unnecessary.
Of course, they didn't see this as betraying their comrades. They had no doubt that all of this was a foundation for the KKK, the Invisible Empire, to swallow not just the South, but the entire United States.
Based on their testimonies, the court handed down harsh sentences to the confirmed traitors and confiscated all their assets. And that vast amount of land and property, now ownerless and put up for auction, prepared to enter the belly of Seuret Cotton very secretly and slowly, passing through several shell companies and agents.
However, Seuret’s appetite did not stop there.
"Since the stage has been set this large, I must take back everything I lent out."
Vast tracts of land that he hadn't been able to touch because he had to mind public opinion, even though he wanted to recover them. Now that chaos had engulfed the entire South, wasn't this the perfect time to gobble up the lands he had held as collateral in exchange for food during the war?
The method was simple. Since they had put up their land as collateral for the food he lent them, he just had to dry up their money supply so they couldn't repay the value of that food.
"Nick, start the operation."
"Understood. Our Black friends are already quite angry, so a light spark should be enough to set them off."
The planters who had borrowed food from Seuret hadn't asked for his help because they didn't have food to eat themselves. They had to secure food at any cost because they were terrified that the slaves beneath them would rise up if there was even a hint of food shortages. In other words, these were people whose popularity among their slaves was so poor that a lack of food could immediately lead to a revolt.
What better bait could there be to throw at a Black community already enraged by the attempted assassination of Lincoln?
"Those white bastards use the law to harass us, so why should we just sit back?"
"That's right! They keep ignoring us, so shouldn't we screw them over too so they come to their senses!"
"Of course, using violent methods will only give them an excuse, so we must refrain. Instead, we will dry them out by strictly adhering to the law and the system."
As Nick and the Black individuals who received his orders subtly fanned the flames, public opinion coalesced in an instant. The targets chosen were also a perfect fit for their tastes: the vicious planters who had put up their land as collateral to James Seuret. The karma of how they had treated their slaves harshly in the past returned like a boomerang.
"Contact everyone in the neighborhood! I don't know about others, but tell them never to work on the farms of these bastards!"
"It's not just farming; the same goes for all chores, including housework. Let's just ignore them completely!"
The Black community united to boycott their farms and turned their steps toward other farms or Seuret Cotton. For the owners who needed to maintain their farms because the planting season was soon approaching, this was nothing short of a disaster. They needed to plow and prepare the fields to even think about sowing seeds. No, in the first place, they couldn't even find people to sow the seeds if things went on like this.
"No, I told you I'd give you a bonus after the harvest! Why won't you come!"
"They say they won't work under dirty white bastards. Get lost!"
"Ptooey! You dirty planter bastard!"
The desperate farm owners tried to hire even poor whites in a hurry, but unfortunately, the whites still had useless pride left.
"I'd rather starve to death than do the work that only darkies do!"
"Pick cotton with my own hands? Are you crazy?"
"You bastard! Are you insulting me by saying I'm no different from a darky!"
The stubbornness of the whites, who would rather dig up potatoes in their own gardens than go out to the cotton fields. In a few years, they would have to surrender to reality and go out to the cotton fields with tears in their eyes, but the whites were not yet ready to do so.
In the end, the vicious planters, unable to even find substitute laborers, had to stare blankly at the red dirt, unable to even prepare for planting. The war was over, and they had to reclaim the land they had put up as collateral, but if things continued like this, they couldn't even raise a single cent. The old planters, who were on the verge of losing not only their slaves but their land as well, were burning up inside.
***
If you can't pay back borrowed money, you get stripped down to your underwear—this was common sense that held true even in the days of ancient Rome. A mass labor refusal incident occurred at a time when the term "boycott" didn't even exist yet. The planters, who were suddenly unable to even maintain their fields, let alone farm, were called into my office one after another, looking haggard.
"Colonel Seuret... please, please just let it slide this once."
"If I can just farm this year, I will somehow start repaying you. Please..."
Aha, so they would repay the loan if they could just farm this year. But weren't they in a position where they were banging their heads in front of me because they couldn't even farm? Of course, I shook my head, wearing the most troubled, sorrowful, and regretful expression in the world.
"Why wouldn't I want to let it slide? Aren't you all my neighbors and brothers?"
"Th-then...!"
"But my situation is also very bad."
This was absolutely not a scheme I was plotting to steal their land. To show them that I had circumstances deeper than the sea and wider than the sky, I let out a deep sigh and showed them the ledger.
"As you know, you are aware of how much of my own private fortune I poured into suppressing the rebels this time, aren't you? On top of that, astronomical amounts of lobbying funds were spent to form the investigative committee and persuade Northern lawmakers to prevent military rule."
"......"
"I also managed to do this by going into debt with Northern banks and British financiers. They are currently grabbing me by the collar and urging me to repay. If I don't pay them back immediately, Seuret Cotton will be torn to pieces."
If they wanted, I could show them all the accounting data that had been manipulated—no, slightly massaged—with the help of Cecilia, Rockefeller, and Carnegie. Having confirmed just how much money I had spent on the previous war and this one, the planters seemed unable to ask me to let it slide anymore.
Look, did I spend that money for my own good? Wasn't it all to save you, to save the South, by spending my own money to shove cash into the mouths of those Northern bastards to stop them? Unless they intended to repay kindness with enmity, they shouldn't be asking for more leniency here. If this were made public, the ones who would be pelted by public opinion wouldn't be me, but them—the ones who shamelessly set up collateral and then said they couldn't pay it back, telling me to rip their stomachs open.
"B-but... immediate repayment is impossible. I couldn't even find workers, so I couldn't even plant..."
"Haa... this is truly driving me crazy."
It should be. If they could plant, it would mean my calculations were wrong. However, if I cut them off immediately here, I would look too heartless, so I, being generous, gave them one last chance.
"Very well. If you insist... I will kneel before the creditors and beg them to extend the repayment period a little. Just pay one-tenth of the principal this year."
"......"
"It was originally one-fifth, but I've lowered it to half of that. I can't do anything more than this."
It sounded like a hopeful proposal, but their expressions turned even more desperate. Because they probably didn't have even one-hundredth of the money in their pockets right now, let alone one-tenth. If they couldn't do it even after I had relaxed the conditions this much, what could I do?
I delivered the ultimatum, as if I had no choice.
"If even that is impossible, there is only one way. Hand over the ownership of the land as per the contract."
"S-Seuret...!"
"Instead, I will not let you end up on the streets. Seuret Cotton will acquire the farms, but I will pay you a pension so you can live every month. Isn't it my final duty to ensure you can maintain your dignity?"
There were no options. Would they be kicked out penniless, or would they hand over their land and survive on the pittance I gave them? Of course, the very fact that I was giving a small pension so that those who couldn't repay their debts and handed over their collateral wouldn't starve was the act of a merciful creditor that shouldn't exist in this world. Even 21st-century first-tier banks wouldn't do this for you.
Naturally, by next week, this incident would also be packaged as a heartwarming story and spread throughout the South. In the end, their shoulders slumped as they signed the contract with trembling hands. Some were even sobbing, unable to lift their heads. It was the moment their kingdom, which they had built by literally grinding down Black people for decades, and their family home, passed down through generations, all passed into my hands.
All of this was for the great cause of the safety of the South.
"Kuh... kuh-heuk..."
"My land... my farm..."
"I am sorry. If I had just a little more strength..."
I harvested the planters' land with the heart of Zhuge Liang, who shed tears while executing Ma Su. It was unfortunate, but thanks to your sacrifice, our white people in the South would be able to sleep safely and comfortably. Watching the backs of the planters leaving while wailing, tears welled up in my eyes as well.
Because I was holding back laughter.