Chapter 23
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Translator: volt
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: Survivors
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"F-Found them!"
Bang.
We were gathered in the church-cum-village hall of our settlement, deep in a meeting.
It was our regular conference, discussing things like how to handle next year's farming, whether to accept the other Native tribes who wanted to come here, and so on.
And interrupting this important meeting was none other than Vicente Gonzalez. I'd been wondering why he was so late, but now I saw he was drenched in sweat from head to toe—he must have come running in a panic.
I was about to ask what exactly he'd found to make him rush like that, but before I could even get the words out, Vicente blurted it out breathlessly.
"We've found the missing settlers!"
"What?"
"Yes. The seventy missing ones! Lady Dare! With the English and the Algonquins helping out, we wrapped it up fast! When we were looking on our own, they all scattered inland like pests."
...Well, yeah, because you were trying to kill them.
Anyway, everyone was thrilled, so I didn't say anything.
"Where are they?"
"The Chesapeake tribe has them. Go grab them right now!"
"Ah, perfect!"
Eleanor stood up and chimed in.
"Father was just saying we don't have enough people to grow wheat in the Chesapeake colony. With seventy more hands, developing it will be so much smoother!"
"Excellent. Then let's go get them. Vicente, can you guide us?"
"...Huh? You're coming too, Nemo?"
"Of course. This means our island's population could grow by seventy."
"...Pardon?"
For a split second, Eleanor's eyes quaked. Before I could question it, Vicente shouted.
"Lord Nemo is right! Let's go now! The ship's ready, and the weather's decent—we might even make it back today."
Whew... We've come a long way.
Back when controlling thirty was a nightmare and I was pulling that mysterious mystic act, now we're casually taking in seventy more.
Forget how to control people who haven't even fought the Spanish with me—that's Mr. White's problem as governor. He'll handle it.
Rescue first, think later. Besides, our colony's already over three hundred strong. Not impossible to manage.
For now, save the seventy and get hands for wheat planting.
"Shall we head out, then?"
That was the priority...
"W-Wait... Lord Nemo!"
"Yes, Eleanor?"
Eleanor, who'd been trembling since earlier, finally yelled at me.
"C-Could you step outside with me for a moment? I have something to say!"
"You can say it here."
"I-It feels like something for just the two of us."
...What is it? A confession?
Nah, probably not.
"...Alright."
I left the others waiting and stepped out with Eleanor. She led me behind the church to the communal graveyard and spoke.
"Um... I have something to tell you."
"Yes."
Gulp.
Eleanor spent a long time rolling her eyes side to side, murmuring prayers, agonizing... before finally opening her mouth.
"I know Nemo's secret."
"I see."
...Pardon?
"Y-Yes, Nemo's... secret!"
What?
What secret?
...No way.
"I... hmm."
No.
Experience has taught me: in situations like this, whoever speaks first is screwed. The one who opens their mouth first loses.
Stay silent, and they'll wrap it up themselves. Speaking up just unleashes disaster.
I learned that the day I heard "...Um, senpai..." and replied, "Sorry, I have a girlfriend," only to hear back, "No! I was just wondering if I could borrow your family register..."
So I clamped my mouth shut and waited.
"Y-Yes, it's no secret that you're an angel! That's not what I mean...!"
Proving my instincts right once more.
...That was close. Nearly blurted, "How'd you know I'm from the future too...?" and gotten, "Huh? What are you talking about, Nemo?"
Anyway.
"...Yes, that's no secret."
"Right! We record the Lord's words you deliver every day!"
Oh shit.
I'd hoped they saw me as some vaguely mystical saint, but this is next level.
It's organized religion.
My hands started shaking, so I casually clasped them behind my back. Yeah. Angel. Angel's utterances recorded...
That's the fucking scripture.
The truth I'd been ignoring hit me. Puzzle pieces I'd refused to fit snapped together, explaining all the weird vibes I'd felt.
Angel, huh.
Expanded Bible edition (1591).
Cold sweat poured down my back. I barely kept a composed face, but inside I was burning up.
I clenched my jaw to stop my teeth from chattering, wiped the sweat from my palms on my clothes.
"Anyway, uh, I was wondering if it's okay for Angel Nemo to leave his abode."
Oblivious Eleanor pressed on seriously.
"..."
"...Yes?"
Silence stretched.
What now?
I get the angel thing (sort of), and that you're writing a new Bible (Roanoke funder perk side story). But why my "abode"?
"Sigh... So you are worried about 'that'."
My strategy stayed the same: don't reveal ignorance.
"Y-You even know what I was going to say... As expected of Nemo."
It worked again.
No.
I don't, so spit it out.
"I-I know about Nemo's sacrifice...! Father does too! What you do every night!"
"Some secrets can't stay hidden forever."
"Every night, you block the demons rising from hell!"
"What the fu— No, that's not it."
"Huh? Oh, anyway, that night Father and I promised to keep your secret. Who knew evil's power would surge so viciously from that holy place... Haah, we had no idea."
Got it. Your situation.
I wanted to die of embarrassment.
Busted. Doom.
I figured I should look poignant here.
So I did, and Eleanor teared up.
"...It's not easy."
"I know! I remember the curses you spat while slaughtering those demons, and that wicked hymn their minions sang—it's still echoing in my head! The lyrics..."
"Enough."
That nearly made me crack up.
Somehow, that "wicked hymn" felt like it'd rank 200 on Rolling Stone's 2012 Top 500 Albums.
"...Anyway, you're worried that if I leave while fending off the devil's forces, something bad might happen."
"Y-Yes!"
"You underestimate my power."
"...!"
"Darkness flees before approaching light. Satan's might can never overpower the Lord's."
"Ah, aah...!"
"So no more worries."
"...Yes!"
"Tell Mr. White the same."
"Yes!"
"And... keep it secret."
"O-Of course!"
With that, Eleanor, tears headed back inside.
I... needed to follow soon for the Chesapeake Bay trip with Vicente.
For now, I closed my eyes.
Sigh... Seriously.
Life's too hard.
Too, too hard.
What now...
"Lord Nemo! Time to depart!"
Sigh.
First, Chesapeake Bay. Think there.
"N-Now, I'll give you a piece of my mind."
"..."
"Our friend Roger says you have land and food we desperately need!"
"Woooaaah!"
"So your tribesmen must hand over territory and grain, or prepare for war!"
"Th-This is outrageous tyranny! Our confederacy won't stand for it!"
"Won't stand for it? What will you do?"
"..."
"Scram. Come back with surrender terms... or weapons!"
"Woooaaah! Scram!"
The tribe's warriors pounded spears on the ground or tossed bows skyward, in a frenzy of excitement.
"...Y-You'll regret this! Our confederacy will make you rue this decision!"
"Do your worst! Oh, and if you don't leave now, I'll skin you alive. Counting down. One, two..."
"A-Argh!"
The chief laughed mockingly at the fleeing Powhatan envoy. Turning to Roger, he said.
"What do you think, Roger? Once war prep's done, we'll raid their lands for food!"
"I-Is that wise? The Powhatans have thousands of warriors, right? Their population's several times ours!"
"No worries! Thousands or not, your 'guns' will scare them off! And we're just declaring on one of their tribes!"
The chief clapped his shoulder, but his tone was grave.
"War's inevitable anyway. We're short on food even for this year. To survive, we must plunder others."
"..."
"Your arrival is the spirits' blessing. Or maybe your Jesus's. Either way, we survive. You'll agree."
"...Understood."
Roger nodded, facing reality.
White was gone, no English rescue. When the Spanish came, these folks hid and protected them. No choice but to follow.
The chief finally grinned broadly.
"Heh, hehehe... Finally, the day I crush them before my eyes."
The Powhatan confederacy had lorded over the area for ages. How much humiliation from their bullying?
But these sea-crossers changed everything.
Their guns dropped birds mid-flight with thunderous roars. Even the bravest, best-trained warrior died to a child's gesture.
Power reversed. The chief, who'd bottled up resentment, now had the means to unleash it!
Conquest and glory burned in him. He envisioned kneeling them, expanding north.
With these 'Englishmen,' it was possible! No pipe dream!
They had nowhere to go. Mostly men—they'd marry local beauties, become tribesmen, warriors.
If so...
"Heh, hehehehe..."
Powhatan confederacy? Pfft!
"...Chief! Visitors!"
"Haha, no rush. We just decided tribal matters—guests can wait."
"Th-They're from across the sea! Says he's John White..."
...Huh?
Roger's face lit up.
The chief's turned ashen.
"J-John White!"
"The governor's here! The governor!"
"Th-Thank you for everything, Chief! My countrymen are here—gotta go!"
Wha... what?
"I'll connect with the homeland later and bring gifts!"
"Finally! Roast beef after a million years!"
Wha... whaaat?
-"...Y-You'll regret this! Our confederacy will make you rue this decision!"
The envoy's words echoed.
-"I-Is that wise? The Powhatans have thousands of warriors, right? Their population's several times ours!"
Roger's words too.
Thousands of warriors, multiplied population... how to counter...
With 'guns.'
And now those gunners were leaving.
Stop them?
As if.
"Wha... whaa...?"
"Chief, farewell then..."
"W-Wait, wait."
"..."
"..."
"..."
The chief swallowed hard and told Roger.
"L-Let me meet this John White."
Roger smirked, sensing leverage for him and his kin.
"...Very well."
Soon, four entered the chief's home. Three were faces Roger knew.
John White, Eleanor Dare, Manteo.
The last one...
'...Who?'
Native guide?
As Roger tilted his head, the three sat opposite the chief. He addressed the center one.
"...You're John White? You look more like us than the other sea-crossers. Surprising."
"I'm John White. This is Nemo."
"...Huh? Why are you sitting there?"
"What's wrong with the seat?"
Oh no. Unfamiliar with Native customs, White might err. Roger hurried over.
"Governor, that's the chief's seat. As our leader, you should sit center."
"...What?"
"So you..."
"I'm not the leader."
"What do you..."
"And call 'him' a savage again... you won't get away with it."
White's eyes sharpened. Not the usual indecisive, gentle man.
"Not just me—God won't stand for it either."
"...Pardon?"
"Nemo...? Ne...mo? Wha?"
As Roger panicked, the chief mulled the odd name, then widened his eyes in realization.
He recalled who bore that name.
Straightening his arrogant posture, he asked cautiously.
"A-Are you... the Great Chief of Croatoan Island?"
"...Pardon?"
"Forgive me for never visiting. The lawless Powhatan confederacy to the north keeps us at odds—no chance."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"Uh... Lord Nemo? What's wrong?"
What the hell.
I'd heard of the Korean plant breeder who became chief in Nigeria for pest-resistant cassava...
But why am I your Great Chief?
I instinctively glanced at Eleanor in confusion; she at White; White at Manteo.
Manteo shot back, puzzled.
"Is something off?"
"No... He just called me Great Chief?"
"Yes. What's strange?"
"Huh?"
What? Why you too.
Silence hung. Finally, seeing my bewildered eyes, Manteo clapped.
"Ah... I assumed you knew. Your fluency in our tongue fooled me."
"Know what?"
"Chief is the wealthiest. Right?"
"...Usually, yeah."
"The wealthiest gives most. Shares wealth, so others honor and recognize him as chief."
"Uh, uhh...?"
"Who’s the wealthiest and most generous here?"
"..."
Me.
I pictured my farm warehouse stuffed with pearls, coral, furs... felt cold sweat pouring.
I thought it was bartering. Grapes for gifts.
Turns out... tribute?
Oh?
"Great Chief, is something amiss?"
What? Like, *Shine Muscat Goes Global! Americans Install Korean Chief After Falling for Grape Flavor!*?
Manteo had explained in English, so the chief only caught my words, tilting his head at our chatter.
"Am I, uh, so their king?"
"Sort of. But not a tyrannical king like England's monarch—more like an esteemed elder. Respected, not ruler."
"..."
Got it.
Like the village 'Teacher' elders bow to—rumored landowner since Japanese times (sketchy how).
I mustered dignity, eyes stern.
"...No issues."
"Th-That's a relief."
"Except one."
"Y-Yes? What issue..."
I quietly eyed the white man beside the chief, asking in English.
"Your name?"
"Uh... Pardon?"
"Yes. Weren't you from Roanoke colony?"
"R-Roger. Roger Pratt."
"Roger Pratt."
I turned back to the chief.
"Your name?"
"...Oiotan."
"Oiotan, I'd like Roger Pratt returned to his people. All his comrades too."
"..."
"Can you help?"
Good. Authoritative enough.
They've eaten my grapes. Time to pay up.
I smiled, watching his face.
"Uh... Th-That..."
"..."
What?
Oiotan's face paled. His tense expression made me uneasy.
"W-Well..."
"..."
"P-Please spare us."
"...Yes?"
"P-Please help save our tribesmen...! We'll repay any way if you do."
I glanced at Manteo—he looked baffled, face full of question marks. Roger...
He sighed quietly, face buried in hands.
"Help us! Without you, our tribe ends in war!"
"Explain."
"Uh, well..."
...
...
...
Ah.
Perfect timing.
So I replied.
"No."
Siiiigh...
Bear the Englishmen's burden.