The Incarnation of Justice
The diplomatic genius who, with his astonishing silver tongue, had seized Alaska without spending a single cent of the government’s hard-earned tax dollars.
Secretary Seward could not hide his shock as he read the handwritten letter from Serget.
“Fur alone generates that much profit? Then why the hell did those Russian bastards…”
Seward, of course, had already investigated and knew roughly how much revenue Russia was pulling from Alaska. He was aware of the coal deposits and had heard rumors of placer gold. Yet he had never imagined that the gold was truly so abundant, nor that using coal for self-sufficient transport could dramatically boost fur-sale profits.
Naturally. He was not a businessman.
“You said we were tying up six million dollars in the frozen north to check the growth of Serget Cotton, correct? If this letter is true, we’ll be turning a profit within two years?”
“That is…”
“Reading this, I can feel just how grateful Serget is to you, Mr. Secretary. After all, you introduced him to such a gold mine. Even I would be moved if I were in his position.”
Lincoln wiped the tears welling in his eyes and read Serget’s letter as if it were a passage from the Bible. Today, the president’s usual booming laughter stabbed into Seward like a dagger.
“I had no idea you were such a benevolent man, Mr. Secretary. Handing over prime land that could have rebuilt the South—at a bargain price, no less! You deserve to be ranked among the saints.”
“Please stop teasing me, Your Excellency. How could I have known it would turn out like this?”
“Just look at the letter. It’s filled with nothing but praise for you. ‘Foresight,’ ‘grand vision’—good heavens, even I feel embarrassed reading it.”
Seward groaned and rubbed his temples.
This was madness.
When Russian Minister Stoeckl had first offered to sell Alaska, Seward had viewed the territory purely as a political tool. He had used grand rhetoric about checking Britain and securing a Pacific foothold, while simultaneously slapping heavy shackles on the rising Southern titan Serget Cotton by freezing a massive sum of his capital.
It had seemed like a flawless masterstroke. Who could have guessed those shackles were actually golden bracelets?
“Be honest with me, Mr. Secretary. You really knew, didn’t you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Look at what you told Serget. That fur would be profitable, that there was gold, that the land was rich in resources. In the end, you didn’t tell a single lie. At this point, you might as well claim the title of the most honest and sincere Secretary of State since Washington.”
Under Lincoln’s deliberately needling tongue, Seward bit his lip.
It was unfair.
If he had known, would he have run his mouth like that? He had simply spoken without thinking because he didn’t know.
He had spun every persuasive tale he could to open the other man’s wallet, only to discover that every word had been the truth. It was a situation too absurd to laugh at.
“As you know, this could become a serious political problem.”
At Lincoln’s now-serious advice, Seward’s face hardened as well.
“If Serget really starts raking in money from Alaska, my political enemies won’t sit still during the next presidential primaries. They’ll tear into me for selling national interest to a private company—and a Southern one at that—at a dirt-cheap price.”
“We’ll have to endure the favoritism accusations. It’s perfect fodder for our rivals.”
“This goes beyond mere foaming at the mouth. It’s congressional hearing material. There may even be newspaper headlines claiming you took bribes from Serget.”
It was no exaggeration. If this became public, the backlash would be difficult to contain.
Seward’s head was already throbbing.
He was already on the Radical Republicans’ blacklist for his conciliatory Southern policy. Now he had handed them a massive new target.
He should have begged the president to invoke emergency powers and buy the land with federal funds, regardless of congressional opposition. Then all the profits would have gone straight to the Union treasury, and his legacy would have pierced the heavens.
Regret, no matter how swift, always comes too late.
“But the water has already been spilled. The contract ink is dry, and payment has been made to Russia.”
“Indeed. There’s no taking it back now.”
“Then there is only one way forward.”
Seward coolly analyzed the situation.
Turning crisis into opportunity and mistakes into brilliant maneuvers—was that not the very essence of politics?
“We must shift all responsibility onto Congress.”
“Congress?”
“Yes. I strongly advocated for the purchase of Alaska in the national interest, but the shortsighted Congress slashed the entire budget. To avoid national embarrassment and honor our commitment to Russia, we had no choice but to attract private capital. Honestly, isn’t that the truth?”
“Hmm.”
“And since the profits Serget Cotton earns from developing Alaska will eventually return to the treasury through taxes and tariffs, we can frame this as a model case of public-private cooperation.”
Lincoln rested his chin on his hand and nodded.
“So in the end, the more successful Serget becomes, the better you look, Mr. Secretary.”
“…That’s correct.”
He had no idea how things had come to this, but the scenario he had originally envisioned had been completely flipped on its head. The man he had tried to quietly extort now had to strike it rich for Seward’s own path to power to open.
With a bitter expression, Seward picked up the letter lying on his desk once more. The closing lines Serget had written in a burst of gratitude particularly caught his eye.
Guaranteed rights.
The phrase flashed through Seward’s mind.
As ridiculous as it was, the concessions promised to Serget Cotton did not end there. There was also a clause granting priority mining rights should gold or oil be discovered.
Surely… if they dug, those wouldn’t come pouring out too, would they?
No. Oil and gold weren’t some dog’s name. If they appeared just because someone dug a hole, why would people across the world be desperately fighting tooth and nail to obtain them?
At best, there would be a bit more placer gold, and even if real oil did appear, it would only be a negligible amount.
Was resource development a joke?
Seward firmly believed that Serget’s miraculous streak of luck would not continue any further.
As expected, news that Alaska was actually a goose that laid golden eggs was thoroughly concealed or downplayed.
From the government’s perspective, it would be troublesome if rumors spread that they had given special favors to a private company. Moreover, since no actual money had come in yet, maintaining secrecy under the logic of “we’ll have to open the lid to know for sure” was not difficult.
Thanks to that, Southern public opinion remained a seething cauldron.
The sense of victimhood that their proud Dixieland enterprise had been robbed of its blood-earned assets under pressure from the Northern regime. This resentment naturally turned into a demand for compensation, and the Southern heavyweights gathered at my mansion were looking for that compensation in a rather unexpected place.
“Since the government emptied the Chairman’s pockets to expand Northern territory, isn’t it only fair that the South should receive something in return for this to be an equitable deal?”
Their fingers tracing across the map were filled with unprecedented confidence.
Fortunately, the international situation was miraculously favoring the New World—specifically, the United States.
Napoleon III’s futile ambition in Mexico was collapsing in spectacular fashion, leaving only massive losses. Spain’s situation was even more pathetic.
Their greedy attempt to re-annex the Dominican Republic had been thwarted by fierce local resistance and yellow fever, resulting in nothing but a drained treasury and a humiliating withdrawal. Their Pacific War against Chile and Peru was equally stalled.
Though they were the European Great Powers that had once ruled the world, opening the lid revealed that their arms had grown far too short and thin to project power across the Atlantic.
“Especially those Spanish bastards—they’re completely finished. All show and no substance.”
“Strictly speaking, even the show isn’t that impressive.”
James Lawrence Orr clicked his tongue and tapped the map.
Even within the United States, the perception that Spain was not a toothless tiger but mere balloon muscle was spreading rapidly. Therefore, while outdated nonsense like “Let’s build a great slave empire in the Caribbean” was discarded, the argument for inserting a more sophisticated straw was naturally gaining traction.
“The justification is solid, isn’t it? The Chairman was fleeced out of six million dollars. The government should be actively supporting Southern business activities, and even that wouldn’t be enough.”
So where should the South strike first?
On this particular issue, even in the South—where opinions split like in France—nine out of ten voices agreed.
The massive island that blocked the entrance to the Gulf of Mexico, just south of Florida.
Cuba.
“We all know how fertile that land is. Sugar exports alone could cover Spain’s entire massive fiscal deficit. It is truly a land flowing with milk and honey.”
In other words, they were coveting a wealthy colony.
Well, it was true that this was the perfect opportunity.
Cuba was a treasure island that accounted for nearly thirty percent of the Spanish royal treasury’s revenue.
It was the sugar pot that monopolized nearly thirty percent of the world’s sugarcane production, a land of abundance pouring forth premium cigars and coffee. It was not a mere colony; Spain burned with determination to incorporate it permanently as part of the mainland. There were reasons for that fervor.
“We are not suggesting direct annexation. That would make the Europeans foam at the mouth. Instead… we quietly support the Cuban independence faction groaning under Spanish oppression.”
Objectively speaking, crushing Spain was something Washington would welcome with open arms.
Having a forward base of the European Great Powers right on America’s doorstep was like a thorn the Union desperately wanted to pull out.
Therefore, if the South stepped forward to excise that irritating abscess, even Lincoln and Seward would find it difficult to openly oppose them.
“Haven’t we produced an abundance of commanders with rich combat experience from the Civil War? We dispatch them as military advisors or mercenaries and quietly slip them surplus weapons. Once Spain is driven out and a pro-American regime is established, where do you think all those rights will go?”
This would create a new outlet for the South’s surplus military power and capital. There was no loss on this side.
Farrar, who possessed a creativity for tormenting others that rivaled the British Empire, stroked his chin with interest at the Dixie men’s idea, yet maintained a cautious attitude.
“It all sounds good, but we lack justification. No matter how weakened Spain is, it is still a sovereign state. If our support for the independence forces is exposed, it will become a diplomatic issue. Will the government truly tolerate it?”
Certainly, while Seward might overlook it, Lincoln was not the type to create unnecessary friction with foreign nations. He was unlikely to move based solely on profit or geopolitical value.
However, every difficult problem in the world has a solution.
James Lawrence Orr, the South’s greatest master of political flip-flopping, cleared his throat with a solemn expression.
“We have justification. It is because Spain is currently nothing less than a disgrace to Western civilization.”
“…Spain has gone mad, but calling it a disgrace to Western civilization seems a bit extreme, doesn’t it?”
“Not at all. Spain is currently practicing slavery in Cuba, and Cuba’s good-hearted Black population is being brutally exploited as slaves! If this is not evil, what is?”
Good heavens, how could a Christian nation encourage the terrible evil of slavery?
“Just look at Serget Cotton. Isn’t the South the place where Black people receive the best treatment in the entire world? We Southerners cannot turn a blind eye to our Black brothers in Cuba who are suffering under Spain.”
“That’s right!”
“Those wicked Spanish bastards—how can they treat human beings as slaves!”
It was true, but… considering that this was Natchez, Mississippi, even I, the greatest scoundrel, could not help but be impressed by this innovative argument.
Righteous Southern Dixies who could not bear to watch the wicked practice of slavery flourish just to their south.
Since the North had taken Alaska, the South must liberate Cuba.
I could not help but be moved once again today by their beautiful love for humanity.
Yes, yes—how could any person defend slavery?
Anyone with a conscience would say the South should never utter such words, but the South has never had a conscience.
That was a truth everyone knew.