Chapter 29
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Translator: volt
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: Assassination
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"If they see an angel... they'll think it's a demon and try to kill it?"
"Yes."
Raleigh snorted at Harriet's confident reply.
"Hah, that's ridiculous. You're talking like you've actually met an angel yourself. As if you've ever had any such experience."
"Of course I haven't seen any angel. And I doubt I ever will."
Thomas Harriot merely shrugged off Raleigh's sarcasm.
"But I've seen plenty of people. Christians, non-Christians, Englishmen, Spaniards, Frenchmen, Algonquins—you name it."
"Ha! And that's the grand conclusion from all your people-watching?"
"Yes."
"..."
Raleigh shook his head at his old friend's bold claim.
"No. You... you don't know anything. No one who lays eyes on a heavenly, noble being could mistake it for a demon.
Even folks as skeptical as you would change if they met an angel face-to-face. That overwhelming presence, that holiness—it would crush them completely, leaving no room for doubt."
"..."
"They might suspect it's a demon at first, but after a few words, it'd be different. Everyone would shift their stance and praise the benevolent Lord who sent down His angel."
"Kh."
"...Are you laughing?"
"Yes. Laughing."
A bitter sneer twisted across Thomas Harriot's face.
"If people ever met a 'real angel,' they wouldn't be able to handle it. Especially those in power."
"Why?"
"Because people can't stand beings above them. They can't tolerate something they can't control, something they just have to obey."
The smile faded from Harriot's face bit by bit.
"If Jesus Christ returned to the Vatican, the Pope and cardinals would unanimously crucify Him again. Same if Muslims saw Muhammad come back."
"..."
"I'm certain of it. Even if—or especially if—it's a real angel, people will turn away from the truth."
A cloud briefly blocked the sunlight.
As the light streaming into the cabin vanished, shadows fell across their faces.
"...But is it really okay to kill him?"
The assassin, pretending to be a shoe shiner while sharpening his blade, asked the question. From the corner of the cabin, where the captain stood alone with arms crossed and dozing, came the reply.
"Why not?"
"Aren't we... Englishmen?"
"We are."
"The Lord told us from birth to serve His Majesty the King of England, so yeah, we're Englishmen."
"What's with the sudden nonsense? Get to the point."
"...Well, everyone was hyped about how opening this colony would stick it to the Spanish, make hitting their colonies easier, all that jazz. Aren't we ruining it?"
"..."
In that instant, the room went dead silent. Every assassin who had been sharpening or swinging blades froze, all eyes glaring at the fake shoe shiner.
"I-It's just a twinge of conscience. Word is, that Indian emperor saved the colony from total collapse—everyone was about to go to heaven—and now we're repaying him by saving our own by stabbing him? It feels... off..."
"We."
The captain cut him off.
"We got paid."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"Did you not get your cut?"
"N-No, I did, but..."
"Did you toss your pouch into the Thames?"
"I didn't..."
"Then shut up and kill him.
For you, money is the Lord, your conscience, and His Majesty the King."
The cramped cabin assassins chuckled softly at the casual blasphemy. But the captain, still straight-faced, pressed on.
"Even if the Lord Himself rose from the dead, you'd kill Him if the money's good. That's your job."
"...That's a bit much."
"One more word, and you'll die before the Indian emperor."
"..."
Only then did the fake shoe shiner resume sharpening his blade.
Sharpening it fiercely enough to slit a man's throat.
"People see what they want to see and interpret things to their advantage. That's my theory."
"..."
"You said everyone would change if they saw an angel? Then why did the Pharisees react that way when they saw Jesus Christ? Shouldn't every Jew who met Him have converted?"
"Well..."
"But what happened? They all rushed to Pontius Pilate begging him to crucify Jesus. And their descendants still don't believe in Him to this day."
"..."
"That's what I think. If people saw an angel—and if that angel said even one thing that rubbed them the wrong way...
They'd try to kill it.
I'm certain."
"..."
"..."
In the silence, the waves crashed. The ship creaked as timbers rubbed together, tickling their ears.
"...You're wrong."
Sir Walter Raleigh, irritated by the quiet, finally spoke up again.
"What?"
"I said you're wrong."
As a fine poet, Raleigh considered elegant words and rhetoric... but decided against it.
He chose blunt and direct instead.
"You've never met an angel yourself, have you?"
That's right. You haven't seen one.
You've never laid eyes on an angel.
"What do you mean by that?"
"A real angel... just seeing it brings a moment of absolute certainty.
A moment where all doubts vanish, and you're forced to believe the being before you is truly a holy one from heaven."
"..."
"...Got it?"
"No."
"That's why you're an atheist."
"And you, Sir Raleigh, speak as if you've seen one yourself..."
Harriot's curt reply was cut short as the cabin door burst open. An excited sailor shouted at them.
"W-We’ve arrived! Chesapeake Bay any minute now!"
"Finally... my God, finally."
Sir Raleigh rose with a strangely solemn, heavy expression. He called to a servant waiting down the corridor.
"Where's the crown?"
"Right here."
"Good. The Bible?"
"Here too."
One hand clutching the box with the crown made for this day, the other holding a Bible ornate with gold leaf, Raleigh strode down the corridor. Harriot hurried after him.
As Raleigh reached the deck, he saw crowds gathered on the shore beyond the railing, like grains of sand.
Thousands of nearby natives, more than last time, mingled with about a hundred English settlers.
And among them stood Lord Nemo.
Right there, at the port where they were docking, surrounded by a cloud-like throng. Some saw him as Croatoan's governor, others as Great Chief.
And Walter Raleigh saw him as an angel.
Just beholding him made Raleigh swallow hard.
Soon the ship neared the makeshift port. As passengers were controlled, Raleigh and Harriot were first off, stepping onto the gangplank.
Still holding the crown box in one hand, the Bible in the other.
The holiest—or most blasphemous—moment of his life approached.
He would place the crown on the angel's head, make the angel swear loyalty on the Bible, force the angel to confess himself a subject of the English crown.
The weight of that thought rooted Raleigh in place.
His hands trembled. Breath grew short. Vision blurred at the edges.
Yet step by step, he moved forward.
For this was his duty.
By now, over 700 Englishmen from a dozen ships had disembarked behind him, filing onto the docks. Thousands watched Nemo and the approaching Raleigh.
A historic...
...moment.
In a way, the very moment he'd longed for.
Christianizing the New World, bringing foreign kings to their knees, etching an immortal legacy.
That moment had come.
At last, Walter Raleigh stood before Nemo. Harriot lingered at a distance behind.
"..."
"Sir Walter Raleigh?"
That voice again.
"Hand me the Bible. Don't I need to swear?"
"..."
"Sir Raleigh?"
The angel urged him in every language Raleigh knew. Slowly, he extended the Bible, and Nemo placed his hand atop it.
Thud.
"...You."
"..."
"You, Nemo, Great Chief of the Pamlico, Chowanoc, Croatoan, Chesapeake peoples... do hereby swear loyalty under God's blessing to Elizabeth, lawful Queen of England, France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith.
Will you obey God's law and spread His word?"
"I will."
"Will you serve the lawful King of England, France, and Ireland without fail?"
"I will."
"Will you protect your people from all evil and rule them with just laws?"
"I will."
"..."
"..."
In the silence, Raleigh opened the box. A splendid crown of gold and jewels gleamed within.
But it was folly's fruit. No human-made splendor could rival the holy radiance emanating from this being.
Even knowing that, Raleigh...
...placed the crown upon Nemo's head.
As one, the gathered crowd knelt as if rehearsed.
Raleigh, belatedly, extended one leg to kneel...
"Kyaaah!"
A sudden scream.
Raleigh instinctively turned. He saw Harriot's horrified face and Englishmen scattering in panic.
And then.
Shoe shiners, cleaners, servants rushed in. At first, he couldn't grasp the chaos.
Then he saw the blades flashing from their hands. They moved as one, blocking his escape, closing in from all sides.
Like teeth of a shark half-swallowing its prey. Raleigh froze in an instant.
Nothing he could do.
"Farewell. Don't blame us."
Countless blades hurtling toward him.
...Who? Whose doing?
Earl of Essex? Sir Walsingham? No. Too many suspects. Too many who'd mocked, despised, hated him.
...And too close to dodge.
And if he dodged, Nemo—who had just knelt and was rising—would be hurt.
"My... God."
That would likely be his last words.
Raleigh closed his eyes, reciting the Lord's Prayer.
Awaiting the daggers to shred his body.
And then.
"Sir Raleigh."
Whoosh!
Something yanked him back. He snapped his eyes open—himself unharmed.
Instead, he saw someone torn apart by shark's teeth: throat slashed, chest gashed, waist hacked, shoulder and thigh mangled.
So the one struck by the blades was...
"Kyaaaaah!"
"M-My God! The Indian emperor's been stabbed!"
Ah.
The white-robed figure collapsed in blood.
The most precious being in the world fell.
"Ah, aaah!"
Thud.
No words came from the fallen form.
-"I have not come to punish you. The Lord has prepared no curse for you, but glory and blessings."
-"The Lord will raise you high."
All His words to him scattered like mirages. The world's light shattered into a thousand, ten thousand pieces.
"Aaah, ah, aah..."
Ruin.
-"Rivers of blood and injustice will flow across this land."
-"Millions will be slaughtered in the Lord's name, and they will die crying out hatred for His name."
Was that... what it meant?
Is this how it comes true?
Eh, aaah...
In wretched despair, Raleigh turned his eyes.
As everyone fled, only Croatoans knelt in prayer. What are you doing? Why leave the angel? He almost shouted, but sensed something off and looked forward again.
There, He...
"Wh-what...?"
He...
...was rising from death.