Chapter 24
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Translator: volt
Chapter: 24
Chapter Title: Vicious Investor
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"A few years back, we were hit with a drought, as you're no doubt well aware."
I had no idea.
I'd assumed the area was just naturally dry. Plus, our farm had an endless supply of clean, clear water gushing out like it was some premium rib joint, so I hadn't given it a second thought.
But I nodded solemnly, playing the part of someone who knew exactly what he was talking about. The Oiotan chief hunched even lower and continued.
"Farming was manageable enough. It wasn't so bad that we'd lose our corn crops and our pea crops too.
But it was dry enough to wipe out the fruits in the wild... and the animals that fed on them."
Native societies around here already had low agricultural output, so they hadn't fully transitioned to farming and still relied on hunting and gathering. With no real surplus to speak of, a drought like that must have been devastating.
"Th-that left us short on food. Sure, some mystery illness took out a bunch of mouths to feed, but it wasn't enough."
Mystery... illness?
I think I knew the cause.
I started to glance over at Roger but stopped myself.
"I see. That must have been rough."
"U-uhhgh...!"
What the hell? Now he's crying?
"Yes, it was brutal. Everyone worked their asses off to stockpile enough food to last through this year, but next year... it's looking bleak. We'll have to start forcing some mouths out of the picture if we want to survive."
"That's rough."
"And to top it off, we've got those seventy soldiers to feed now too... makes it that much harder."
The seventy guys.
What's his angle? Sounds like he's making excuses.
"That sounds tough. But we'll be taking those seventy kinsmen off your hands, so you can breathe a little easier."
"...Uhhghgh!"
...That wasn't the response he wanted? What's the deal here?
"Anyway... we were starving, so we had no choice."
"No choice but to do what...?"
"The Powhatan Confederacy is several times stronger and richer than us. So..."
"...So?"
"We went to war with them. Or threatened them to hand over food."
"...???"
Wait... what? That doesn't compute.
Several times stronger? Then why pick a fight?
As confusion set in, I glanced around and spotted Roger again. He gave me a meaningful nod.
...Oh. No way.
"You thought you could take them on just because you had Englishmen and muskets? Reckless move."
"Ahhghgh!"
Hey, you lunatic.
You're not some isekai protagonist where the modern Korean army drops into Joseon during the Imjin War.
Sure, the Tlaxcaltecs pulled something similar—siding with the whites, smashing the Aztecs, and living happily ever after as overlords. But that was half luck.
Tough luck for you—you're not them.
Hell, I'm not even sure a few matchlocks could fend off thousands.
Guy probably had the mindset of a degenerate gambler. No money left, so pawn the rent and living expenses, leverage it all on the last coin pump. Something like that?
"It-it could have worked...! How did it end up like this...! The spirits have abandoned me...!"
...Refusing to own it to the bitter end. Yeah, total degenerate.
At least I got why he was bawling in front of me.
"Well, hope you've learned your lesson. Farewell. May your ancestors watch over you."
No reason for me to indulge him.
"W-wait, please hold on!"
"...What is it?"
"Great Chief, help us! If things stay like this, war will wipe out our tribe!"
"No."
I shut him down flat.
Fighting the Spanish was self-defense—they invaded us, and it was only about two hundred of them.
But this? Some stranger's war that has nothing to do with us. And... thousands of warriors?
No chance in hell. Even if I went on a rampage with the forklift, mowing down dozens at a time, this isn't winnable.
If it was a sure win, I'd still sit it out to avoid casualties. And this one's a coin flip at best?
No reason for us to sign up.
As I stood to leave, the others started getting up too.
"Eleanor, let's get out of here quick. This place is about to turn into a battlefield."
"Y-yes, Nemo. I'll round up our people here and we can head out right away!"
"P-please... our tribe will all die...!"
Yeah, and we'd die too if we jumped in.
"W-we already told the Powhatan Confederacy we're in league with the sea-crossers! If we fall, you're next, Great Chief!"
"Is that true, Roger?"
"...Yes."
"Hmm... Still, let's go. Once they fight it out, the Powhatans will be weakened too, right?"
"I agree."
"N-no! If you leave now!"
We went around the village gathering the Roanoke survivors.
"Don't go!"
Some had been here a while, even married locals and had kids, so convincing them took time. But none were ready to abandon their homeland entirely.
"Help us! Don't abandon the pitiful—didn't that Jesus fellow say something like that?"
A few got rattled seeing me—an outsider, not even European—show up next to John White. When they heard I was the settlement leader, some balked. Others flat-out refused, saying they'd die before leaving their new families. We left those ones.
"Amen! Amen! I revere that Jesus too! Roger can vouch—I always peeked during services!"
In the end, we left behind three or four who wanted to stay and brought back sixty-seven survivors to Croatoan.
"Please, just help us and I swear by the spirits and ancestors, we'll give everything..."
"...You revere Jesus, but you're swearing by spirits?"
"Uh... huh? Is that not allowed?"
And somehow Oiotan tagged along.
...How the hell did he sneak onto the boat?
Anyway...
"Ahhghgh!"
"..."
"..."
"..."
Three days.
For three straight days, I ignored his nonstop wailing outside the settlement.
Impressive stamina. Noise torture attempt failed. The first night, his crying kept me up, but now I'm fully adapted and sleeping like a baby.
Still annoying as hell, and it's becoming a problem.
Three days of starving, crying, and carrying on—he should've left by now. But people take pity, tossing him scraps like pigeon feed, so he's hanging on.
Time to end it.
I sighed and signaled the others. White, Eleanor, Manteo—all nodded.
Roger Pratt, sensing something, spoke up cautiously.
"C-couldn't we help a little? Give them some guns, teach them to shoot..."
"And trust that guy with what?"
"He won't turn the guns on us."
...Really?
That type begs family for guarantees then blows the investment? Isn't that pointing a gun at your parents?
Nah. He's already leveraged his tribe's lives for max debt. No sympathy from jump.
...Can't say that as an 'angel.'
I substituted with something profound-sounding.
"It's not about trusting people. It's guns I don't trust. They're tools for killing, after all."
"...Ah!"
"As expected...!"
Good. They're buying it.
Hell if I know what I just said.
With the objections quashed, the wailing drifted in faintly again. Hmm...
Couldn't take it anymore. I shot up and stormed out of the church-meeting hall. The others followed, and there was Oiotan, prostrate and sobbing on the ground.
"...Listen. Don't you think you're making a fool of yourself? A tribe's great chief bawling like a child?"
"B-but our tribe's on the brink of annihilation! You make it sound so easy!"
That's on you, asshole.
...Bit that back as I felt Eleanor's shining eyes from behind. Deep breath. Swallowed the curse rising in my throat.
Fine.
"Go home. You're not even asking for food out of hunger—you've got the nerve to ask us to fight and die for you?"
"Th-that's, Great Chief..."
"If you really want my protection as Great Chief, come settle in our territory! We bought this land fair and square from the locals!"
Oiotan snapped his eyes open and stared at me.
"I'll give you seeds, land, whatever. Just... don't ask me to fight your stupid wars. Got it?"
"Ah... uh..."
"Drag him out."
Villagers grabbed his arms and hauled him off. Still dazed, he got dragged all the way to the road.
"...White? You said we were short on hands for wheat. Enough now?"
"Sh-should be. But what about Oiotan the chief...?"
"Escort him to the harbor and lock him in a cabin."
"Is that okay?"
"Stowaway from the start, right? Whatever. If he comes back begging for real protection, let him in."
Village looked like five hundred heads. That should cover it.
Done. No more stressing. I ignored it all, went home, and fired up a game.
Stress city.
Goddamn all-in life-gambler lunatic. Hope he finally learned something.
Live your life right, for fuck's sake.
"Ch-Chief! Are you alright?"
"Chief! What did the sea-crossers say?"
"..."
"...Chief?"
About four hundred years before League of Legends.
The degenerate gambler's ancestor, Oiotan, brain kicked into overdrive.
"...I've learned my lesson."
"What do you mean?"
If you're going all-in on life, bet your soul on a sure thing.
Even if you get caught 4v1, even if inhibitors blow—even if you win that one teamfight decisively, you can turn it all around...!
"Heard the rumors about the richest Great Chief?"
"...Yes, we've heard."
"They say there's a mysterious figure ruling Pamlico Sound and these parts. Doesn't show at gatherings but hands out sweet grapes."
"I... met him!"
"What?"
"Yes...! The Great Chief told me! If we want protection, move to his lands and live as loyal subjects!"
"...!"
"...!!"
"Let's go! To his territory! That's our salvation!"
"Ooooooh!"
And so, part of the Chesapeake tribe began a great migration under Chief Oiotan. Six hundred strong—a huge number—so word inevitably spread to other tribes.
"Why are they moving...?"
"Great Chief's orders, they say. Move to his land if you wanna live."
"...?!?!"
The shocking news sent ripples through everyone.
From those terrified of the Powhatan threat to those starving from the drought.
Soon, a hundred became two hundred, then three, then over five hundred.
The domino procession finally reached Chesapeake.
"G-Governor! Migrants incoming!"
"Ah... Oiotan finally came, huh. How many? Hand out potatoes and wheat per head, teach 'em tools first..."
"Looks like a thousand? Something about Great Chief—what's that?"
"...?!?!"
White finally sensed something was off.
First month: Taught Oiotan and his tribe potato farming.
Next: Gave out corn seeds to the rest.
After: Taught new arrivals to help on others' fields.
...Weird.
Why no end in sight? Only Oiotan's crew asked for protection.
Trembling in bewilderment, White did his first census next month.
One... two... three...
...
...Population: over 3,400.
How'd this become a mega-farm?
...Wh-what the...?
While the angel-approved lord of Chesapeake Bay, White, panicked, months flew by.
"Sh-ships! Ships are coming!"
Finally, September 1591.
"Oho, all farms? Colony's a smashing success!"
Sir Raleigh... arrived.
With hundreds of livestock.