Chapter 61
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Translator: volt
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: Omen
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"Now it's time to show those Spaniards what we're made of!"
...Why do we need to show them anything?
"We have to make it crystal clear who owns this territory!"
Are you managing turf now?
"Vicente, you can join us too, right?"
"Of course, my lord! I've done it once before—what makes you think I can't do it twice?"
What the hell is going on?
"It's not just a sea battle, so there could be wounded in the fighting..."
"Don't worry! I can handle most injuries by now!"
"Eleanor, you're planning to go too?"
"Naturally! Who'll treat the wounded soldiers if I don't?"
...What is this?
These... English bastards.
Just like the pirates who'd plague the seas across the globe for centuries to come.
I let out a sigh and approached the two least English people here.
"Vicente, this is basically attacking your homeland—are you sure you're okay with..."
"Why wouldn't I be? Didn't I just tell Lord Raleigh? I've done it once—what's stopping me from doing it again?"
"..."
"We must crush the wicked forces threatening this settlement! And establish the true Kingdom of the Lord here!"
You were part of those 'wicked forces' yourself.
Your threats to this settlement are why I got stabbed for the first time in my life.
...Turncoats are never trustworthy, no matter the era or place.
I turned to Manteo and said,
"Manteo, if this makes you uncomfortable..."
"Pardon? Why would I be uncomfortable?"
"Well... putting our tribesmen's lives at risk in some pointless war..."
"Pointless? Don't Europeans trade for gold and silver?"
"...You're right."
"All the tools, spices, and daily goods we use here are bought with gold and silver."
"That's... true too."
"So we should grab it while we can, right? With all the gold and silver they've brought this time, you can bet even bigger treasures are waiting."
"..."
You too, huh.
What are you? An honorary Englishman? Have you completely turned your back on Asia and joined the West?
My head was spinning.
Okay, I get their mindset. Still, hasn't it only been eight years living side-by-side with these English folk? I've pretty much figured out how they think by now.
Just think of them as street thugs.
Thugs live by pride and die by pride.
And there's no way they'd tolerate their turf(?) being threatened and their boss (that's me) having his authority challenged.
Even if our Virginia community and Spanish Florida are hundreds of kilometers apart by land. Like Vicente said, by sea, the Spanish could threaten us anytime.
Plus, with the Spaniards spreading crap like 'That saint and angel? More like witch and devil!' or 'A native emperor? Just a savage Satan-worshiper!', it must've gotten under their skin.
...Even so.
What happens to the whole 'liberate the slaves' cause then?
I floated the idea casually, but they all looked at me like I'd grown a second head.
"Once we smash a Spanish colony or two, won't some slaves naturally get freed?"
Damn you, Raleigh. You just admitted it—hitting Spanish colonies is the main goal, slave liberation's an afterthought.
...
...
...
Well... can't be helped. There's at least some rational basis for it.
'If we smash 'em good—artistically!—they'll be too scared to do jack!' Sounds like bullshit straight out of the Japanese Empire, but surprisingly practical.
Spain has plenty of other enemies besides us, and with limited resources, their options dwindle.
Especially since our settlement's armed to the teeth with hundreds of coastal cannons—anyone charging in half-assed is gonna get wrecked.
So if we press the attack now, hit 'em multiple times, and squeeze out gold and silver to fund the settlement...
Slap!
"Wh-what's wrong?"
"Are you okay? You just slapped yourself out of nowhere..."
I've been thinking too much like you guys.
Snapped myself out of it with a slap.
Fuuu...
"...Walter, let's ask Sir Drake's opinion when he gets back."
"Thank you!"
Yeah. No helping it. I don't love the idea, but they're right in principle, so I have to go along.
Now all that's left is waiting for Drake to return and get his take...
"Ha, haha, hahaha! Excellent!"
Clap clap clap clap!
Standing ovation? Really?
"Lord Raleigh! While we're sailing out to conquer those seas together, how about we hunt for El Dorado too?"
"Great idea! The Spaniards know where it is, so we can raid their colonies and shake down the info..."
"Oh, I have a few words for you two."
"What is it, Your Majesty?"
"Anything you say!"
"First, no harming innocent civilians."
"Of course!"
"Leave it to us!"
I don't trust you at all... but at least the answers sound good.
"Second, all captured slaves must be freed."
"Would we do anything less?"
"We haven't forgotten the righteous cause of this war!"
Good... glad to hear it.
"Finally, sorry to kill the vibe, but..."
"El Dorado doesn't exist."
"..."
"..."
Don't do that.
Why are you making faces like seven-year-olds who just learned Santa isn't real?
"Heh, heh heh heh..."
Who am I?
Elizabeth Tudor, the rightful Queen of England, France, and Ireland; defender of the faith; genius strategist.
At 63 years old, the great Virgin Queen let out a sinister chuckle, lost in dark pleasure.
"Not only did we plunder and capture Spain's treasure fleet, but we also freed over 2,200 Moorish slaves. And to top it off, the Native Emperor's aid was crucial to this victory..."
Imagining King Philip II of Spain hearing the news and weeping blood made the Queen's pleasure centers threaten to overload.
She'd savaged his prized treasure fleet—and captured half of it intact, so their forces were actually stronger after the battle.
And the 'emperor' she'd carefully courted was now openly fighting Spain.
Sailors' tales claimed he'd personally wielded the 'Screaming Sword,' felling countless foes and piling their corpses into mountains. Zero credibility, but a fine propaganda tale, so she spread it.
Vast gold and silver, ivory, spices—all flowing into her hands. How could she not rejoice? Wait, no. That's not it.
"Freeing over 2,000 slaves! Sir Drake, your achievement is immense."
'Liberator of Slaves' Elizabeth declared sternly.
"A tenth of the spoils you brought shall be yours, and you'll inherit your kinsman's post as Paymaster of the Navy. And there are other honors I've prepared for you..."
"..."
"Go."
Elizabeth said with a sharp, ambitious smile.
"Go, with Baron Walter Raleigh of Roanoke, and shatter the Spanish fleet. Burn their colonies. Until not a single loathsome slave-driving villain remains on this earth."
Grand yet vague orders.
But in their vagueness, they were crystal clear.
After this victory, Walter Raleigh and Francis Drake were national heroes once more.
Portraits of them crushing Spaniards alongside the Native Emperor adorned public spaces; treasures from the win displayed across London.
In that context, Drake's 'vague' orders...
Meant free rein.
"Burn Philip II's West Indies."
With that, she sent Drake off. Elizabeth shuddered head to toe, thrilling in victory.
"Grah! Drake! Raleigh! That damned Native Emperor!"
Spain's Philip II shuddered likewise as he ordered bankruptcy proceedings.
And finally.
The 'Native Emperor' himself...
"...Walter? You're going again?"
"Of course! Her Majesty granted free command this time—we'll definitely burn Havana!"
"...G-go safely."
Was left utterly bewildered.
Raleigh was pumped.
Drake too.
Word was, Spain's American trade network was nearly paralyzed. Slave ships halted, so Drake was straight-up cherry-picking and raiding Spanish colonies.
Well... a bit extreme, but results speak for themselves.
"Okay, say 'cheese'!"
"Recite your name, tribe, and family ties... You don't speak Spanish?"
As they got excited, hundreds of slaves poured into the settlement at a time.
Those who chose to go home headed to Liberia, or via Liberia to their homelands.
The rest—hundreds—stayed, mostly opting to become landowners here.
The settlement's population grew diverse again. Luckily, many freed slaves spoke Spanish, so language barriers weren't as bad as with the native influx.
But... other issues cropped up.
"...What are you doing, Teyan?"
One day I asked a young man. He was staring endlessly out to sea, like a madman.
The youth named Teyan replied,
"My wife... she was sold somewhere far away. Where is she now?"
I had no answer for that.
And many—sometimes occasionally, often, or daily—went to the coast, watching sunsets and rising stars.
As if someone waited beyond the horizon.
Only a tiny few ever turned away from the shore.
The rest...
Just waited.
Without promise or end.
Spanish Florida, new city of Miami.
Splash!
The whip tore into salt-soaked flesh. Blood stained the seawater; salt seared wounds, making limbs tremble in agony.
"Urgh... uuurgh...!"
"Move! For the eternal glory of our King! For our homeland's victory!"
They rose at dawn to toil for a 'king' they'd never met and a 'homeland' they'd never seen.
They quarried rocks from nearby sites to build forts against unknown foes, hauling the stones to shore.
Masons shaped those stones into walls; then they'd return to their assigned masters' fields for half the day—plowing, sowing, weeding, harvesting.
At noon, they became state property again, dragging new ships ashore by ropes over their shoulders, grunting with effort.
Colonial authorities monitored and controlled the slaves' labor strictly.
Manpower shortages plagued them.
Plans for more slaves were thwarted by English naval interference; they couldn't assign such grunt work to Spaniards lured here by dreams of lordship.
The slaves' high price made overworking them regrettable... but no choice.
Time to prepare for English invasions was more precious to Spanish officials.
The colony's safety—and the Spaniards settled there—mattered more.
In their cold, meticulous plans, the slaves' lives were 'resources'; their deaths, 'losses'.
The sea reeked of blood.
They cried out to spirits and ancestors for salvation. None came.
They prayed for their oppressors' doom. It didn't happen.
Finally, they sang of peaceful death's embrace. But life, more painful than death, dragged on.
As all hope faded...
"I hear there's a land called Virginia to the north."
"..."
"..."
"...They say if you go there, you're free."
Someone murmured the strange tale.
"If we go there... we'll be free."
My master said their emperor lives in a palace of gold.
They say gold and silver are as common as stones there.
No slaves, no masters...
Rumors ghosted about, but no one knew the truth.
Still, like the hypnotized, they repeated the story.
They needed it. That much, at least.