Chapter 40
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Translator: volt
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: Income (Revised)
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1593.
This was the fifth new year I'd welcomed since arriving here.
"Angel! When's Mommy coming back? I miss her, so tell her to come home!"
"Virginia! You can't be that pushy with Lord Nemo!"
"Hahaha. She'll be back soon, don't you worry."
Virginia Dare, who had been toddling around unsteadily when I first saw her, was now five years old—or seven, by Korean reckoning.
"Your mother's off doing something truly noble. She'll come back loaded with gifts just for our little Virginia!"
"Wooow! Will I get lots of new friends too?"
"Of course! Ten! Twenty! No, more than thirty, even!"
"Woooow!"
"...Lord Nemo, is it really okay to promise her that much?"
"Don't worry, Vicente. This time, there really will be that many kids coming."
If Rolly was as politically savvy as I'd seen, and the streptomycin had done its job well, then Rolly, Eleanor, and Margaret would probably have become heroes of London by now.
Especially if Rolly had become not just the queen's favorite, but a power player with real popular support and a solid base of influence?
How much resources could a man like that pull in?
"The advance settlers are calling their families, so we'll easily top 500. Lots of them will be coming as family units."
Yeah. Rolly would have screened out the lone adventurers looking to strike it rich quick in the colonies. Most would be coming here to settle for good.
"And London's always been plagued by overpopulation, hasn't it? If he handled the plague crisis well, Sir Rolly could bring in quite the haul."
Very... promising, Walter Rolly.
How many would come? 700? 800?
Maybe... over 1,000.
That would push our community's population close to 9,000. How on earth would we make use of them all?
Build clippers, trade, grow wheat, potatoes, grapes... No. I wasn't even hoping for 1,000.
Just 800 would open up so many possibilities. Shipbuilding would be a breeze, and if even a few extra blacksmiths were among them, I could turn some of my pipe dreams into reality.
Yeah.
Just send 800.
"Oh dear! My granddaughter, clinging to Lord Nemo's pant leg like that!"
"Grandpa! When's Mommy coming?"
"Eleanor's coming back soon, so no worries! Hahaha!"
And so, amid all the eager anticipation, we wrapped up the New Year's Day party successfully, followed by a Christmas holiday stretch of several days.
About... a week after that?
"Sh-ships! I see ships! Lord Nemo! Ships are coming!"
"Where, Manteo?!"
"Southeast, over there!"
I took the telescope from Manteo and peered in that direction...
...Oh!
A single ship was cresting the horizon. The red cross flag flying at the topmast confirmed it was English.
Then another, and another, masts rising one after another.
All five ships that had left this place were returning...
"..."
"..."
"..."
Another one.
Another.
Another one more.
...
...
...Huh?
"Mommy! Mommy's waving from over there! Mommy really came!"
"..."
"..."
"..."
Virginia was bouncing around in excitement, but the rest of us froze, unable to move. The others who'd come out at Manteo's shout also stopped dead, mouths agape, when they realized the number of ships far exceeded expectations.
In the end, twenty-two ships sailed into Chesapeake Bay.
"Lord Nemo! We're back! Volunteers poured in by the ten thousands, so we had to cull and cull again..."
"..."
"...Lord Nemo?"
I turned carefully to Walter Rolly, who had bounded down to the gangway in high spirits.
"...How many in total?"
"How many? Excluding the sailors and laborers heading back to England?"
"Yes."
"Roughly... 2,000?"
Whoa.
Twice the maximum I'd dared hope for.
"Blacksmiths and shipwrights make up a tenth of them. Veterans who've built England's finest warship, the Ark Royal!"
"Uh... uh-huh..."
The elite craftsmen we'd been desperately hunting for—a tenth of them.
"Naturally, we brought 100 more dairy cows too!"
Another 100 cows for variolation against smallpox among the natives.
For a moment, I felt like the protagonist in one of those American self-help books: help a random old lady on the street, turns out she's a billionaire heiress leaving you a fortune.
I was stunned.
"Th-this... calls for a full report."
"It's the saints' land!"
"My God, the angel's continent!"
"...Right now."
I asked Walter Rolly, and Eleanor Dare and Margaret Lawrence who followed him down.
What the hell was going on?
"So... it started out small.
Her Majesty took Margaret and me back to Whitehall Palace in London. There were still people tending to the poor there, and she couldn't very well hide out in London alone, or so the excuse went.
In truth, winter was setting in, and the plague seemed mostly contained, so it was time to return to court. Anyway.
At Whitehall, she hailed us as England's true saints, gathered all the nobles and clergy, and had us tell the story of meeting you... in front of everyone."
"...You talked about me?"
"Oh, n-no. Well, it was about you, Lord Nemo, but... we twisted it a bit for propaganda purposes..."
"Ah, I get the gist. And then?"
"After that, we barely had time to treat anyone. Crowds swarmed us everywhere, grabbing our hands and hems, begging for prayers..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"Anyway, they started carving statues of us in the squares, we preached at Westminster Abbey with the Archbishop of Canterbury, all sorts of crazy stuff..."
"And when you tried to leave, volunteers from everywhere flocked to follow the saints?"
"Exactly! Spot on!"
"Er... I see."
"..."
"...Saint?"
"Ah, th-that... please don't."
"Understood. Eleanor? Miss Lawrence? Is that the whole story?"
"Oh, no, not quite..."
Eleanor and Margaret exchanged glances before turning to Rolly. He suddenly stood and bowed deeply to me.
"Lord Nemo, thank you. It's all thanks to you."
"Thanks for what, Sir Rolly?"
"It's no longer 'Sir'."
"Then..."
Rolly lifted one corner of his mouth.
"...Call me Baron Roanoak."
"Oh..."
"And John White. You'll have to come to London with me on the next voyage."
"Y-yes? Why?"
"It's about time something was added before your name.
Wouldn't you say, Sir John White...?"
"..."
John White's face froze the moment he heard it.
I thought briefly of his hard-knock life.
Come to think of it, this was 1593.
The year he was supposed to lose his daughter and granddaughter and die alone in sorrow.
"...K-Knight? Me, a knight...?"
Born to humble common stock, Rolly had even fabricated a gentlemanly background when appointing him governor.
But no more fabrications needed now.
"Me... a noble...?"
The 'White family' was no longer just a hollow pretense.
White stared at us speechless for a moment... then gazed out the distant window.
Tears of joy welled in his eyes.
...Anyway.
Er... so... let me sum it up.
1. Eleanor Dare and Margaret Lawrence became 'saints'.
2. Sir Walter Rolly is now Baron Walter Rolly, and his right-hand man John White is set to be ennobled.
That's... the gist.
Now, the ripple effects.
1. Countless people requested to migrate here following Saints Eleanor Dare and Margaret Lawrence.
2. Baron Walter Rolly, now the queen's full right hand, arrived with massive support—including shipwrights for clippers, blacksmiths, carpenters, and all sorts of experts.
...Our population jumped overnight past 10,000.
Over 2,000 of them had never laid eyes on my 'immortality'.
And the number of artisans had multiplied several times over.
Walter Rolly was already sketching ship designs based solely on the clipper blueprint I'd given him, gauging the internals and overall layout. The shipwrights were processing New World timber at his command.
"..."
Am I happy?
Of course. My power base had grown exponentially in an instant.
Plus, most of the new immigrants were plague survivors from London who'd witnessed miracles firsthand. Scatter them among the existing 8,000, and they'd naturally convert the rest to the 'Nemopist' faith.
But.
'...What next?'
I had plenty of worries too.
What comes after this?
They owed their 'saints'—whom I sent—a debt of gratitude and followed their footsteps here. Poaching them wouldn't be hard.
But accepting thousands of Englishmen meant we'd be tied to England from now on. The population here would grow from 10,000 to 20,000, 100,000.
How do I win them over?
Could a society of tens of thousands still run on ad-hoc management like before?
And one more worry.
'...Spain.'
England and Spain were still at war. The entire Atlantic was their battlefield.
And now, brand-new English frigates built here? Thousands of English settlers living here?
To Spain, this place was worth sending an armada to crush.
How to fend off a potential invasion?
Two big problems loomed in my mind. They say too grand a gift brings grand headaches.
I mulled it over long and hard...
"Sir Rolly? No, Baron Roanoak?"
"Just Walter is fine."
"...Walter, I have a question."
"Ask away."
"Something we might import from England... wondering if it's feasible."
I'd reached a decision.
"What is it?"
Walter asked, and I answered.
"Cannons."
This colony needed power.
"There! It's Walter Rolly!"
As the ship bearing the angel-and-saw emblem appeared on the Thames, crowds began flocking. Onlookers waved handkerchiefs and cheered.
"Long live Sir Rolly! Long live England!"
"Baron Roanoak! Over here!"
If Eleanor and Margaret had become London's saints, what of Walter Rolly, who brought them back and led the plague containment efforts alongside them?
He was already a saint in his own right, basking in popularity.
The top hero who ended the plague, granted the barony of Roanoak, and showered with rewards besides.
Wherever Rolly went, the citizens' cheers rang out like for a royal procession, continuing until his carriage reached Whitehall Palace.
Stepping down, Rolly led two men straight to the audience chamber. The queen, her advisors, and the court nobles greeted him.
"Your Majesty, I've brought rare treasures from the New World once more."
As on the voyage before last, crates upon crates rolled into the chamber. Elizabeth's eyes gleamed with greed... then shifted to the two men Rolly had brought.
"So. You're John White?"
"I-I see Your Majesty."
"Expect handsomely. I reward those who expand my realms..."
As the queen's smile swept over him, White bowed deeper in tension. Her gaze then moved to the other man.
"...And who is this?"
"An envoy from the 'Native Emperor'."
The court fell silent.
The man whose exquisite 'syringes' had quelled London's plague.
Master of precisely cut gems, vast lands, sweet fruits, overflowing wealth.
A great Christian who sought baptism on his own.
A mighty ally across the Atlantic.
"Oitotan is his name, and he is... his vassal."
Hearing his name, the American nodded briefly before scanning the palace again.
With a bored expression.
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, and nobles murmured.
"...A far cry from that Manteo fellow a few years back."
"As a servant of a great emperor, he finds the English court unimpressive?"
Imagination of the grand Native emperor's court swelled anew in their minds. Rolly let it run wild before speaking.
"Your Majesty, I petition to import one item to the Virginia colony."
"Item?"
"Yes. We need cannons."
"...Cannons?"
"Indeed. To stand against Spanish attacks."
English cast-iron cannons were slightly inferior to continental bronze but far cheaper, a key strategic asset—export banned.
"Hm."
"Your Majesty, Virginia will be a vital base to strike Spanish American colonies. And now, religiously as well..."
Secretary of State William Cecil whispered in her ear. Other advisors clustered, murmuring. Her eyes sharpened.
Their counsel aligned for once in ages.
The queen waved them off. She smiled satisfied at Rolly.
"...Yes. You're right. I'll issue a charter permitting cannon exports to Virginia. Arm the colony.
We must protect the 'Land of the Angel'."
"My thanks."
"Now, time to hear from the 'emperor's' envoy."
"..."
At her words, Rolly stepped aside, letting Oitotan advance. He scanned the chamber...
Slrrk.
Then drew something from his bosom. As he approached the queen, a page took it instead.
The queen received it from the page... and flinched.
-'To Queen Elizabeth of England, a gift from the Emperor of America. May our friendship endure forever.'
Engraved letters on an aluminum cylinder.
Pulling the ring on top smoothly opened the lid, revealing the contents.
A precious pineapple.
"He heard pineapples are rare in Europe and sent this. Sealed in aluminum, he says."
Queen Elizabeth stared wide-eyed at Oitotan and Rolly in turn. She eyed the thin, sharp lid she'd removed.
"...What to do with this lid? Melt it for jewelry?"
As Rolly moved to answer, Oitotan spoke first.
"Discard it."
His English was rough, but the court hushed.
"...What did he say?"
"To us, precious. To him, not. He discards."
"..."
"...He discards even soiled clothes. It's fine. New ones made.
Here too?"
"No, we practice frugality in the Lord's name..."
"English chiefs... poor."
Oitotan thought of Nemo.
He used things and tossed them immediately. His wealth never waned. But these people wore flashy gems and fidgeted carefully.
Nemo was different. He handled nothing with care. No need.
Only food and drink, like that pineapple, got his caution.
Out of pure curiosity, Oitotan asked.
"Rolly, those tiny gems... precious to you?"
"..."
Rumors of the wealthy New World emperor grew taller still.
And.
"People... sell land? Iron beasts... none here? The ones that tore Spaniards apart..."
The dreams of adventurers eyeing the emperor's plunder withered away.