The Slave Master (3)
Warm sunlight poured in through the gaps in the curtains.
I sat up, feeling a strange sensation that was a mix of refreshment and stiffness.
“Ugh…”
I looked around and spotted the glass of water I’d set out the night before. As I gulped it down and the drowsiness faded, my reason slowly returned, and the objects around me began to come into clear focus.
“Hmm.”
I’d really done it this time.
Naturally, my lovely fiancée, with whom I’d been drinking wine until late last night before we both drifted off in the same bed, was still fast asleep, tucked under the covers.
Honestly, I’m innocent here.
When someone as beautiful as her—my own fiancée, no less—is the one who suggests drinking wine, and then keeps pouring glass after glass until she’s practically blacking out, no jury in the world would find me guilty.
Still, how should I put this?
The elders used to say you only become a real adult once you get married, and I think I’m starting to understand why they said that.
The James Sett of the past, who knew nothing of women, is dead. The man sitting here is the new, reborn Neo James Sett, who has killed his former self. From now on, I must maintain a dignified attitude as a member of the nobility…
“Master, Congressman Quitman and Congressman Parer are here to see you.”
“Hmm… I see. Tell them I’ll be out after I wash up.”
“Yes, sir!”
Now that I’m practically a member of a noble family, I must maintain my poise anytime, anywhere. I dressed with care and headed out, only to find the two old men sitting on the sofa, sipping tea and smirking at me.
“Oh, Sett. You’re sleeping in late, which isn’t like you. What’s the occasion?”
“Has our Sett finally become a real adult? No, wait—since you’re now the son-in-law of a Baron, should we be using honorifics when we address you?”
“Did you come all this way just to tease me from the moment you arrived?”
At my exasperated reaction, Congressman Parer chuckled, saying there was no way that was the case.
“That’s not it, but your dignified stride is just so amusing, how could we let it pass? Ah, those were the days… It reminds me of when I first held my wife’s hand. Back then, I truly thought there wasn’t another woman like her in the world.”
“Indeed. My wife was like an angel when she was young, too, but these days she gets annoyed the moment our eyes meet. Of course, when I was young, I was always in the military, and after I was discharged, I lived my life obsessed with politics and horse racing…”
“You were like that too, Congressman? I’m the same. This woman of mine says horse racing is fine, but we should spend time as a family—so I told her, why don’t we just enjoy horse racing as a family!”
I couldn’t help but think that he should be thanking his lucky stars his wife hasn’t cheated on him. I must never grow old like that.
I let the two old men’s pathetic self-destruction show flow in one ear and out the other, and as I sat down, Leo brought over the morning coffee I always enjoyed.
As I sipped the coffee, savoring the aroma, the two men, who had been chatting about nonsense, slowly brought up the real reason they had come.
“Sett, as you know, elections will soon be held across the Union.”
“Are you both running as candidates?”
“I’ll likely run for the House of Representatives again, just like last time. I thought Congressman Parer might be eyeing the Governor’s seat, but he says he has no such thoughts yet.”
I wondered if they hadn’t told Quitman yet that I’d decided to catch the mastermind behind the fake John Brown incident.
I sipped my coffee as they filled me in on the fierce war of words that had broken out at the party committee.
“So, Speaker Peters is arguing that every candidate in Mississippi must be a Fire-Eater.”
“Exactly. I’m a member of the Fire-Eaters myself, but that’s an excessive demand.”
“The Speaker wasn’t that radical in the past, but he seems to have changed recently.”
People always change once they’ve held power for a long time and tasted its fruits. Or perhaps his true nature, which he’d been suppressing, is finally coming out. After all, they say the best way to understand a person’s true nature is to give them power.
“Then it seems we have a situation where the moderates, led by Congressman Jefferson Davis, are clashing with the radicals led by Speaker Peters.”
Of course, by my standards, Jefferson Davis is radical enough, but these things are always relative. In the face of the true madness of those who want to secede immediately, even Jefferson Davis, the ringleader of the rebellion, seems like a mere commoner.
In truth, if I look at it coldly, it’s better for me if the moderates hold the upper hand for now. But since John Peters is acting out, and if history follows its original course, Jefferson Davis will become the President of the South, so wouldn’t it be fine to just sit back and watch?
“By the way, Sett, have you ever met Speaker Peters?”
“No. I haven’t even heard his name mentioned much.”
“Hmm… I see. During the debate, he was very indignant, saying you had nearly suffered great harm, so I thought you were close. He seemed incredibly angry that the Federal Government hadn’t awarded you a medal…”
“Is that so? I’ve never met the man, but I’m grateful.”
Listening to them, it sounded like he was just using my name to bash the North, but even if it weren’t Peters, there would be plenty of others doing the same. However, the next thing they said caught my attention instantly.
“Congressman Davis must have been secretly angry, too. The Henderson plantation, which was raided by those bandits, was a fervent supporter of Congressman Jefferson Davis. They say they provided quite a lot of funding, too…”
“A list of victims?”
That was it. Why hadn’t I thought to look at such a simple causal relationship until now? I asked the two men to wait a moment and brought out a map marked with the names and locations of the victims whose plantations had been raided.
“Gentlemen, could you take a look at this map? I’ve analyzed the bandits’ raid routes and patterns, but I haven’t analyzed the detailed personal backgrounds of the victims.”
“Hmm? Isn’t this all over with? Why bother now?”
“I’m doing this because it’s not over, obviously.”
I told Quitman, who looked puzzled, that there was a real mastermind behind the raids, and that I had decided to catch the person with Parer’s help.
“…Really? There was actually a mastermind behind them? And someone related to the State Legislature at that?”
“Yes. Given that no one took the bait on the map I distributed through you, Congressman Quitman, it’s highly unlikely to be someone close to you. That’s why I want us to analyze this together.”
If my hypothesis was correct, this list of victims had to have one distinct characteristic.
“First, the owner of the Henderson plantation is, as you just said, a fervent supporter of Congressman Jefferson Davis. And the next victim, the Jackson plantation…”
“I know him. Isn’t he a member of Governor Macrae’s support committee?”
“Then what about the third victim, Miller?”
“That man is a Fire-Eater close to me. I felt very sorry for him when he suffered the damage.”
We laid out all the victims and diligently investigated who they were close to, but as expected, no particular commonality appeared on the list.
“Sett, it seems you’ve guessed wrong this time. There’s no consistency at all, is there?”
“Indeed. They all support our Democratic Party, but that can’t be a commonality.”
“You’re right, as there wouldn’t be a single planter in the South who doesn’t support the Democratic Party.”
If there had been something in common among the victims from the start, those with keen eyes would have noticed something strange beforehand. There was no commonality. However, if I pointed out a suspicious person from the start and reasoned backward, I could discover one characteristic.
“It’s truly a coincidence, but there isn’t a single planter here who supports Speaker John Peters.”
“…Hmm?”
“Sett, don’t tell me…”
“No, no, it’s just a hypothesis. But it bothers me that while at least one supporter of every major power in the South has suffered damage, only Speaker Peters’s supporters have suffered no damage at all.”
Of course, suspecting someone based on this alone is just overthinking. But I had several other pieces of circumstantial evidence. The mastermind was a power broker in the State Legislature who had the authority to immediately seize the data Parer had submitted. According to Gary, who confessed everything, the mastermind had given explicit instructions to make it look like John Brown’s doing, so as to thoroughly incite anti-Northern sentiment.
And here was a man I’d never met, openly using my name to incite anti-Northern sentiment—wasn’t it worth suspecting him at least once?
“By the way, Congressman Quitman, you’re both Fire-Eaters, so why didn’t you pass on the data I gave you to Speaker Peters?”
“We have factions, you see. We used to get along, but recently, my faction and Speaker Peters’s faction haven’t been very close.”
Then it was highly likely that even if Quitman had distributed the map I gave him to those around him, it hadn’t reached Speaker Peters’s inner circle. This felt like the puzzle pieces were falling into place.
“But Sett, your reasoning has merit, but you realize it’s dangerous to suspect the Speaker of the Mississippi Legislature based on mere circumstantial evidence like this, don’t you?”
“Of course. I’m well aware of how terrifying power can be. That’s why I’d like to express my gratitude to Speaker Peters, who argued so strongly that I should have received a medal at the committee meeting. Could you arrange a meeting for me?”
It wouldn’t be strange at all for a young planter who became a captain in the militia for his role in defeating the bandits to go and thank the Speaker of the House. If Peters really was the mastermind, we could instantly rise to become the biggest power brokers in Mississippi by exposing him.
Quitman promised to pass on the message. And, as expected, a reply came back saying he would be happy to meet me.
* * *
“Mr. Speaker, thank you for making time in your busy schedule. I was deeply moved by your speech at the committee.”
“Hahaha, yes. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I, too, am deeply moved to finally meet the young Slave Master of the South, about whom there are so many rumors.”
John Peters, whom I met in person through Quitman’s introduction, was a much more straightforward man than I had expected.
“I heard about what was discussed at the party committee meeting. While other congressmen only spoke with polite words, I believe you were the only one who truly saw through the reality of the situation.”
“That’s too grand an expression. The others are patriots who love the South just as much as I do. It’s just that the direction of their convictions is slightly different.”
However, beneath that straightforward personality, I could feel a wariness that never truly trusted anyone. I continued to offer flattery that would appeal to him, but while Peters laughed pleasantly, he didn’t show any signs of being overly excited. He must not trust me that much, given my closeness to Quitman.
It was clear he wasn’t a man who could be easily deceived by a few pleasant words. So, I had to be a bit bolder and spin a story that was plausible enough to hook him.
“I heard you were indignant that the Federal Government didn’t award me a medal. I’m just grateful.”
“Haha, you heard about that, too?”
“In truth, until now, I believed, like Congressman Davis, that this country should remain in the Union. To be precise, I thought there was nothing to gain by antagonizing the North. But after experiencing this raid, my heart has changed a little.”
“Oh? Is that so?”
“Yes. I dared to slaughter those who didn’t know their place and were robbing planters, but wasn’t the Federal Government busy hiding my achievements? Simply because they didn’t want to offend the North. I am so disappointed.”
I had admired the dignified, macho spirit of the South that didn’t care what anyone thought, but the reality was that I was just a timid man full of estrogen. At my passionate outburst, Peters nodded as if interested.
“That’s unexpected. I thought you were a Unionist.”
“I was a Unionist. Until just a few weeks ago.”
“Then, is the reason you asked to see me because you want to become a Fire-Eater? If so, I would welcome you with open arms.”
He said that, but Speaker Peters’s eyes were still not smiling. To paralyze his wariness—the wariness of a man who constantly tries to gauge whether I’m harboring other intentions—I had to…
“The reason I sought you out, Mr. Speaker, is that I want to seek your wisdom. In truth, while I am being treated as a hero for the Battle of Black Creek, I am also feeling my limitations.”
“Continue.”
“This ‘Arrow of Freedom’ wasn’t just a simple band of bandits. As long as the North continues to threaten us, bandit groups disguised as Northerners will continue to emerge.”
“That’s a valid point.”
“Therefore, we need a bigger shock that can wake up the entire sleeping South. For instance… what if an accident occurred where radical Northerners destroyed a railroad transporting cotton?”
I had to let him know that I had a plan identical to his own ideology.
“Sett! Have you lost your mind? Such fake operations are the kind of things those Northern bastards would do! Your loyalty is admirable, but keep in mind that such thoughts should not be entertained lightly.”
Peters scolded me with a stern face on the outside, but I didn’t miss the fact that his pupils flickered minutely for a split second. To catch a tiger, you must enter the tiger’s den, and to catch a madman, you must become an even madder man. Would mere petty banditry be enough?
Peters, who had been sternly scolding me, stroked his beard a couple of times and then tossed out a single remark.
“Well, since you’ve come all this way, why don’t we have dinner together?”
Hooked.
How could a terrorist resist the idea of blowing up a railroad?