The Flame of Chaos

The day after Leo’s wedding—a day everyone on the Sett plantation had spent as if in a dream—James called the slaves together after the grueling labor of the day was done to make another surprise announcement.

"From now on, I will issue a marriage certificate along with this wedding photo to every couple who has married."

"...A marriage certificate?"

"To put it simply, it is a definitive document that proves the fact that you have lived together as a married couple. You need to have this so you can receive proper recognition later on."

I didn't know what kind of future the "later" James was talking about referred to, but the slaves who were already married or about to be married were so overwhelmed by the unexpected gift that they were busy searching for anyone who knew how to read.

"Leo! Leo! You know how to read, right? Please, read what's written here!"

"You should learn to read, too. You can learn now if you just set your mind to it, can't you?"

"Alright, alright. I'll start learning this week, so just read this for me for now."

How could they not be in high spirits? Even the couples who had been married for a long time had worn fine clothes and dresses for the first time in their lives to take photos, and now they had received marriage certificates as proof of their love.

As Leo read the contents of the certificate, the couples' mouths stretched wide in joy. In the past, a slave's marriage was often nothing more than a dry, single sentence in the plantation ledger stating who had married whom. Now, it had become a lifelong record, complete with a photograph.

"I have to learn to read, too."

"...Right. I have to learn. If we can't even read the contents of our own marriage certificate, we'd be too embarrassed to even call ourselves a married couple, wouldn't we?"

"Exactly. And later, if our child asks what that is, if I can't read it because I'm illiterate..."

Whether it was intentional or not, the issuance of the marriage certificates caused a phenomenon where the Sunday language classes at the Sett plantation saw a surge in applicants, leading to a waiting list.

There were those who could read and proudly recited their marriage certificates fluently. There were those who, though still clumsy, struggled and tried their best to read them. And there were those who busily scurried about looking for someone to read for them because they couldn't read themselves.

Will, a runaway slave from Cedar Grove who could now fully enjoy this entire process, joked with his friend Mark while watching the people moving about busily.

"Looking at this while sipping a drink here, it makes me so frustrated I could die thinking about how I struggled in Boston trying to survive."

"Why? Even so, you're the most famous person in this country, aren't you? If I say 'Will, the 50-cent man,' wouldn't almost everyone ask if you're the one? They said you'd have to be the President to be more famous than you."

"'The 50-cent man' sounds too cheap."

"Still, you're lucky. What do you think would have happened if the Master hadn't gone up to Boston himself to bring you back?"

"That's why I'm serving him with all my heart and soul."

Will, who was about to lie down on the floor with a smirk, saw a couple shedding tears of emotion over the contents of their marriage certificate and asked again.

"Come to think of it, Mark, didn't you say you were getting married? Was it next month?"

"Uh-huh, that's right. Hehehe, I already got permission from the Master. We're having the wedding at the chapel in exactly five weeks."

"Wow, I'm jealous. So, are you going to take photos and get a marriage certificate too? I want to marry May soon, too."

"You two just started dating, so don't you dare. There's a whole line of couples waiting to get married right now. You should wait a bit longer."

In truth, Will wasn't particularly desperate, as marriage wasn't an urgent matter. It was just fascinating and amusing that his friend, who had wanted to escape Cedar Grove with him so badly, now wanted to bury his bones in this plantation more than anyone else. No, wait. If you put it that way, it might be funniest that he himself, who had actually crawled into Boston and caused such a ruckus, had become a follower of Sett.

"Isn't it really funny? When we were at Cedar Grove, I was annoyed every day, and just seeing the overseer's face made me want to kill him."

"Duncan? Honestly, that bastard deserved to die. The Master said so, too. He said that guy just died of natural causes."

"That's true. But life is so good right now that sometimes I get scared. Everything we have now is only possible because the Master is in good health, right? So if anything were to happen to the Master, all of this could collapse overnight."

"That's why we have to protect him so that doesn't happen. Do you think our Sett Elite Guard is practicing so hard for nothing? We aren't just protecting the Master; we're protecting the over a thousand fellow countrymen who depend on him."

The number of fellow countrymen working under the Master might exceed a thousand, reaching two thousand, or perhaps even three thousand in the future. Therefore, protecting James was the same as protecting the respected Master, everyone working on this plantation, and their beloved partners and children.

"I have to do it, even if I have to give everything."

Perhaps because he was about to get married, Will felt his friend, who was firming up his resolve, had become even more dependable, and he quietly nodded beside him. This decision wasn't something forced upon them by someone else; it was a path they had chosen of their own will. That made it all the more meaningful.

The wedding and the issuance of the marriage certificates had a much greater impact than I had anticipated. The plantation was much more vibrant every weekend, and above all, not only did the number of workers volunteering to learn to read skyrocket, but the learning efficiency of those who were already learning also increased compared to before.

In truth, I had started this because I thought it would be better to organize everything neatly from now on rather than digging through records one by one when slavery was truly abolished later. I never imagined it would be this effective...

"You are truly the Master. Not just with the wedding, but by issuing a simple record like a marriage certificate, you've raised everyone's loyalty once again. I never imagined you would even provide a clear motivation for everyone to want to learn to read. There's no one else but you, Master, who could come up with such a plan."

"...?"

Leo, the happiest of all new grooms, was gushing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with admiration, his eyes gleaming with a loyalty that was even more fanatical than before.

"How could you plan something like this? Since when?"

"...Well, I'd been planning to implement it at an appropriate time from the start."

"As expected! Then there must still be countless extraordinary ideas in your head that we couldn't even imagine."

"Of course, of course."

Of course I had anticipated it... is what I'd like to say, but my head was already hurting thinking about what I had to do next. Please, don't look at me with such sparkling eyes. In truth, this was closer to a coincidence, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but I had realized one important fact recently as the study craze blew through the plantation.

Objectively speaking, looking only at pure physical labor, the plantation's efficiency was at a limit. Thorough division of labor, adequate rest, high work motivation. All of these were meshing perfectly to produce efficiency that other plantations couldn't dare to match, but conversely, I wondered if further improvement would be difficult.

However, as they began to study and it became possible to give and receive instructions not just verbally but in writing, there were signs that the plantation's efficiency would rise once again. The plantation was growing in scale, and division of labor and collaboration were occurring not just individually but by work teams, and now a new method of utilizing documents had been added.

Furthermore, since they could organize their know-how or handover items by work team and have each other read them, there were signs that proficiency would increase faster than before. If the number of people increased further, I should have them take turns handling minor clerical tasks.

Wouldn't efficiency improve even more if I refined it into a modern corporate plantation system later on?

"But Master, aren't you worried at all?"

"Worried? What are you worried about?"

"We feel more grateful than we deserve and would never harbor any other thoughts, but... there are many planters who think slaves shouldn't become smart."

As Leo said, it's not wrong that slaves harboring knowledge in their heads leads to them harboring other thoughts. However, that is only in a general environment; in my case, slaves becoming smart is not bad—it's actually a gain. The more objectively those under me think, the stronger their loyalty to me becomes, and they are forced to conclude that they cannot do without me.

Moreover, there is already a perfect textbook within the plantation: Will, who came here after suffering in Boston. The North isn't even an option. Would you rather go there, work 14 hours a day for 50 cents, and enjoy a "free" life, or live here, eating three meals a day, eating meat dishes, having company dinners every month, going on blind dates, and having a wedding?

If rational thinking is possible, the life here will only become more desperate.

"You have to become smart to help me and work more efficiently, don't you? I have to spend the time I'd waste on such useless worries planning how to increase plantation revenue to expand the land and increase the number of slaves."

"I see. Because you have to own more slaves than you do now."

"Of course. My goal is to double the number of slaves within two years. Every goose that lays golden eggs in this Mississippi must be my property."

"We will do our best to help."

For the day when every slave in Mississippi becomes my property. As I was fulfilling my duty as a great planter of the South, that day finally arrived.

"Sett, I've been contacted by Speaker Peters. He said the preparations are finished, so let's stop the antagonism and join hands for the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠future of the South."

"It seems he has completely cast aside his suspicions toward Congressman Quitman."

"That... fake rumor was definitely effective. His attitude has become noticeably softer these days. Anyway, it's a good thing for our goal."

"What does he say the detailed plan is?"

"You know there's a discussion on railroad expansion at the Jackson Capitol in four days, right? It's a fairly large event where railroad company officials are coming in addition to Northern politicians, so all eyes will be on that side. So, he said let's cut the Pearl River railroad bridge in Byram then."

If it's the Pearl River railroad bridge in Byram, it's the core passage connecting Jackson, the capital of Mississippi, and New Orleans. Cutting this off would be perfect for delivering a massive shock, as it would sever the connection to the capital, the symbol of Mississippi. Since a major meeting is being held in Jackson, the timing is also perfect.

"But isn't the Pearl River bridge too close to Jackson?"

"Still, it's a distance that takes an hour by horse, so wouldn't it be fine?"

"Since he said they would handle the execution, it shouldn't matter, right?"

"Yes. Peters said he would be drawing attention at the Capitol, so he asked you to watch over whether the work at the site goes well. He said they would prepare the execution personnel, so you should only bring a few slaves to act as guards."

"Understood. Please tell him I will do so."

It goes without saying, but Quitman and I had no intention of actually cutting the railroad bridge. We would arrest the "Fire-Eaters" who were disguised as Northern agents to cut the bridge at the site, and prove that they were acting under Peters's orders—that would be the end of that bastard's fate. I would become a hero who revealed Peters's conspiracy with Quitman and stopped the South's runaway train, and the extremists shouting that the South must secede immediately would be wiped out for the time being.

To begin with, raiding the plantations of fellow planters under the pretext of inciting conflict is crossing the line, even if you go too far. Enjoy yourself at the Capitol, Speaker Peters. I'll at least bring a chrysanthemum to your funeral later, so don't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be too disappointed.