Chapter 25
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: volt
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Survival
-----------------------------------------------------------------
White should have been in the absolute best mood right now.
"My, my name is Wi, Wiquashi... I have a family of four. My tribe is..."
"Head to the western farm for now. They'll give you tools to build a house, land, and seeds there. Oh, and don't forget the 'needle matching'."
"A-alright!"
Thousands of natives were flooding into his territory at Chesapeake Bay, begging to settle.
Even if communication was barely possible through Manteo's tribesmen, it was a sight to behold as countless hands took up potatoes and wheat seeds to start their own farms.
"This way! Like this, point the plow at the ground like this!"
"Ah... like this?"
"No! Like this!"
Thus, thousands gathered, plowing fields with over a hundred horses in tow, while two hundred dairy cows grazed nearby. White had never dreamed of such lavish support.
Right now, White was a great lord commanding thousands of subjects. It was only natural to rejoice.
If only...
"...In that short time, you've achieved this much success? Does that even make sense? Thomas! What are they saying?"
"The one the natives call the 'Great Chief' ordered them to migrate here. They say to follow John White and pay taxes to him."
"Is that true?"
"..."
"..."
If his superior hadn't been standing right beside him, White might have been able to celebrate.
How should he explain this?
Had they already figured out about 'Him'? No. From their reactions, they seemed to think 'He' was just some local bigwig.
"...It's true. He's been helping our settlement a great deal."
White quickly made up his mind, nodding as he forced out the words. At that, Raleigh's eyes lit up again.
"The 'Great Chief'—no, the 'Emperor' of this land—is your ally, then?"
"Could it be... that Shine Muscat or the aluminum from before came from him too? Through trade with him?"
"..."
"My God...!"
Raleigh grinned ear to ear, hopping about excitedly like a child.
"John White! What incredible feat have you pulled off to get this land's emperor helping you? All those jewels, precious metals, sweet grapes as gifts!"
"Did you save his life? Did your daughter marry him? Or has he converted to Christianity...?"
"Ahem."
Did I save His life?
Did He marry my daughter?
Did He 'convert' to Christianity?
Can Christ Himself 'convert' to Christianity? Or could a mere human save the lives of Gabriel and Michael?
Every question was so absurd that John White couldn't hold back a cough. It took a while of hacking before he could make out Raleigh's expression.
He was half in ecstasy.
And at the same time, deadly serious.
"...Tell me. What is the reason?"
"Just how mighty is his empire to command thousands to till foreign soil? And why would such an empire's master show you such mercy?"
Oh, my foolish superior, whose eyes are still blind.
He is no emperor, but a prime minister. His empire covers the entire Earth—why ask such things?
His mercy extends to all humanity—why see only the grace shown to me alone? Can't you see? These thousands have gathered, trusting in His protection.
White swallowed hard.
He had so much he wanted to say. He wanted to cry out in confession, to ramble all day about His overflowing mercy.
But he didn't.
Because He had commanded silence.
Instead, John White said only this.
"He is... endlessly merciful. That's all."
"..."
But some explanation was needed.
"And He worships God."
"...What?"
A mix of truth and lies, crafted to sound plausible even to those ignorant of Nemo's true nature.
"I don't know the full story, but he doesn't follow Catholicism or anything. Not a single missionary in his 'empire,' yet he already serves the Lord in the right way."
"...So, he helped a fellow Christian, is that it?"
"...Yes."
"My God... It reminds me of those fools who wandered the East searching for Prester John! My God... My God...!"
Walter Raleigh's eyes spun, his fingers drumming the wooden table rapidly, as if calculating beads or piecing together shards atop White's words.
"C-Clearly, if he speaks English fluently... some Englishman must have come here before us. He must have taught the emperor English and Christianity!"
"Hallelujah! It's a miracle! Who was it? An unknown great missionary? Or sailors stranded from a voyage years ago? Doesn't matter. What's important is he's hostile to Spain and friendly to England—perfect!"
"..."
White said nothing, silently watching Sir Raleigh weave a web of plausible lies from ignorance.
"Does he have a proper Bible? No, probably not. Speaking and spelling are different; he must struggle to read.
Then we should gift him a Bible. And baptize him while we're at it, hold a coronation as the queen's vassal...!"
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Sir Raleigh. Stay calm."
"How can I stay calm in this situation?!"
Devout Protestant Walter Raleigh's eyes brimmed with hope.
Atheist skeptic Thomas Harriot's eyes flickered with doubt.
But both were too lost in their thoughts to notice John White's coldly cooled gaze.
"Ahem, John? Could you... uh... arrange a meeting with His Majesty, the Indian Emperor here?"
"...Me, you say?"
"Yes...! You! My lord, my vassal, my governor!"
Raleigh leapt from his chair again in excitement.
"I've reported your merits to Her Majesty in detail. Know this? Your portrait's selling like hotcakes in England! You'll make a fortune when you return!"
"...I see."
"If these talks go well, I'll bring you a king's ransom! You'll be the true lord of this land! What do you say?"
"..."
"...John? Aren't you happy?"
"Far from it. I'm thrilled. Just... struggling to contain my joy..."
"Good! Don't worry. I always keep my word, don't I? You'll have wealth and glory for sure. So, as Virginia's ruler, let me meet the emperor..."
"I can't decide anything."
"...I see."
"He moves solely by His own will."
John White spoke more boldly and firmly than ever.
For the authority behind him dwarfed Walter Raleigh's, even the English queen's he served.
"I'll ask.
But don't expect a positive reply."
"Understood. I just hope he knows we want friendly ties. Is there an Englishman by his side to translate writing? I'd like to send a letter."
And so the Nautilus set sail for Croatoan Island.
Two letters reached the hands of 'Emperor Nemo'.
One was from Sir Walter Raleigh, brimming with florid, ceremonial rhetoric. Endless poetic praises of the great emperor's wealth, glory, and mercy.
The other was from John White.
He had written just one line.
-'Whatever happens, I will follow only your decision.'
-'...Great One, your holy decision will be the foundation of all churches newly built on this land.
Great One, I see your glorious future. A future where all Christians praise your name and name their children after you.
Great One, I praise you. Not for your wealth or your many subjects, but for the brilliance and nobility of your soul.
Your soul shall now be reborn through sacred baptism...'
Flutter.
I skimmed through Walter Raleigh's letter, thick with flowery verbiage, page by page, then tossed it aside.
Then I lightly glanced at John White's letter, which took far less time and effort to read.
-'Whatever happens, I will follow only your decision.'
Alternating between Raleigh's flashy missive and White's single succinct line... a sigh escaped me.
"Hoo..."
I clutched my head without thinking. My head throbbed, forcing me to bow it.
Setting the letters down, I sat in silence in the empty, quiet living room.
The time had finally come.
Until now, I'd merely reacted to events as they arose.
I'd saved the Englishmen because leaving them to die felt wrong.
I expanded the vineyards across the entire island because I wanted to farm grapes.
I shared the surplus grapes because I hated to waste what I'd grown.
And so I'd become an 'angel', a 'Great Chief', and now an 'Indian Emperor'.
...What's next?
I'm no longer the idiot charging Spanish soldiers with a forklift on impulse. I know what I am.
I'm an immortal.
I don't die.
I'm the master of a farm with infinite resources.
Will I live forever? Probably.
I am a 'miracle' itself.
So in this era—this 16th century, where 'miracles' are seen as either God's providence or Satan's schemes—how can I survive?
For now, I could fool Walter Raleigh. Play the ragged, comical 'Indian Emperor' a few times, and he'd leave satisfied.
But one day, when someone discovers this 'Indian Emperor' never dies, the charade ends.
Thus, deceiving Raleigh and hiding the secret... is just a stopgap. Avoiding him solves nothing.
Whites will always covet this land.
There are no eternal secrets.
Before their hands truly stretch out, I must decide.
For my safety, and...
"Eleanor, Thomas, Manteo, Vicente, John..."
For the safety of those who follow me.
'England is necessary.'
For my daily life to continue, this Croatoan colony must endure. And Spain won't leave English settlers here alone. We've already fought once, haven't we?
Indeed, I need England as an ally.
'Raleigh too.'
And in that England, Walter Raleigh holds Virginia's governorship. Unless I kill him, I must win him over.
Yes.
I must win him over.
And now I know myself.
I'm an immortal, master of infinite resources.
With such advantages, I already know exactly how to win over and subjugate a 16th-century man.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"...Eleanor?"
"Y-yes! Can I come in?"
"No. I'll come out."
Creeeak.
I opened the front door, and Eleanor looked up at me.
With eyes full of awe and respect, her excited flushed face trembling with tension as her gaze met mine.
"Th-the... Father says he needs more potatoes for farm management. Should I send a bit more seed potatoes...?"
"..."
"...Is that okay?"
Yes.
Walter Raleigh must look at me with eyes like these.
He must revere me too.
He must...
Think of me as an 'angel'.
A long-deferred puzzle piece clicked into place in my mind.
The core figure in English politics, the queen's most beloved paramour, London's most loved and hated man.
I will subjugate him.
And claim him.
I will survive.
As an angel.