The Road East
The road east.
“How's Qajar doing these days?”
“They no longer insist on fighting first like they used to. Now they send envoys ahead and work to secure peace.”
Ooh~ so they're doing diplomacy now? The nomad in them has really drained away completely.
“Though the problem is that the other side won't accept them.”
Ah... so that's what happens when our kids behave themselves, huh? Doesn't matter how good you are when the people next to you keep butting in.
“Still, that's impressive. We've been sending them our old breechloading rifles bit by bit, right?”
“Yes. Ours would just end up melted down as scrap, but they're putting them to good use, so it seems to work out well.”
What on earth has been going on over there? They've changed so dramatically since Temüjin.
They've become ever so devout. Splendid. Simply splendid.
“Honestly, the only reason we can do whatever we want over here is because Qajar is blocking everything on the other side, so don't hold back — support them generously!”
“Yes, ma'am.”
And then, hmm... what's this?
“An explosive shell, you say...”
“The response has been excellent. What do you think?”
Hmm. From the drawings and the write-up, it looks like they're planning to launch grenades out of a cannon.
“This is going to take a lot more research than you'd think, you know? Getting the nose to point down when it lands won't be easy either.”
“Yes. I understand that's the hardest part.”
Aerodynamics plus ballistics? That'll give them headaches for sure.
“Well, let them do whatever they want to do — something will come of it. Though finding other explosives might be faster.”
“Are there many of those?”
“Yep. More than ten that you don't know about yet, at least.”
“Goodness...”
Of course, I don't know them all either, so that's my problem too...
“Tell them to keep at it. I'm going to rest a bit and then head east.”
“There's a tribal confederation in the east, but I'm told things are at a standstill — they're neither friendly nor hostile toward us. You're going in person?”
Turns out the Iroquois Confederacy is blocking the way along the shores of the five great lakes.
“There's nothing big for me to do, so I might as well handle something like this.”
Because I don't think we have much time left, you see. Who knows when the Europeans will come pouring over and start clashing with the natives.
We need to get friendly with them, as peacefully as possible.
“Will you need the army?”
“What good would fighting do? While I'm gone, push the expansion out along the west coast too.”
We've only fully secured a tiny fraction of the territory so far. That's why they're still pressing forward, laying rails and building forts.
“With this much mountain terrain, it's going to take quite a while.”
“Well, leaving things half-finished isn't great either, is it?”
We'll need to dig for gold there later, after all... Have to keep the pot well-oiled, so to speak.
“And besides, you never want to worry about your rear, right?”
That was the biggest reason. There are still plenty of natives living in the western mountains, and what cracks me up is how they're so determined to pilfer from others. I mean, why?
According to the railway crews, track fasteners keep disappearing day after day. Kind of bitter, isn't it? And even though we tell them to just hunt and bring us animal hides or interesting stones, and we'll trade for them fair and square, they keep at it anyway.
“For now, keep up contact. At the very least, tell them hands off our things. If they still won't listen, catch them and drive them out.”
“Drive them out to where?”
“Catch them and send them off past the south, obviously — where else would we send them?”
The east is ours to take, the north is our land, and the west means plunging into the ocean, doesn't it? So drive them south, toward South America.
“Well then, keep up the good work. I'm off to the east.”
“TWEEEEET!”
Illini, in the east — a full two days away by train.
“Wow... how is a river that wide?”
“The locals apparently call it the Mississippi.”
“Oh...”
Right, of course. It's a river that shows up in novels all the time, after all.
After our Yoha River swallowed up all its tributaries, I'd assumed no river anywhere could be wider — but this one was every bit as broad.
Anyway, this was where four major rail lines converged, so the station was enormous.
“We have to transfer here, right?”
“Yes. The line under construction is being run by a separate train service, apparently.”
Just as I'd done down in the south, they were laying track as they went, building forts, and pushing ever outward.
These natives — we can't even tell which of them kept their promises to us and which didn't, and they keep stealing track fittings. What can you do? Our property has to be protected, doesn't it?
From the forts, they watch, and the moment anyone pulls something funny, riders gallop out and chase them off.
“How much farther to the end of the line?”
“At this pace, we should arrive by evening.”
“We've come farther out than I expected.”
“They say there are thirty-two forts already.”
Whew... Thirty-two? That's 3,200 men in soldiers alone. Where on earth are they finding all these people? Is the Eastern Continent's population really that big?
Did they talk native warriors into joining?
Warriors becoming soldiers... Huh, that might actually work out nicely?
“Well then, how about we go rest up?”
“Yes, sounds good.”
“Let's go see what sort of friends are blocking our road.”
Arriving by evening is perfect timing for a good night's rest, isn't it?
With so many trains shuttling construction materials back and forth, hitching a ride hadn't been hard at all.
A shift change must have been happening, because a whole crowd of soldiers boarded alongside us.
“Oh my... you're a very pretty young lady, aren't you?”
“Ohohoho! I'll have you know I have four children!”
“Good heavens!”
The train cars sat face to face with seating for four, so Mose and I ended up across from two soldiers, and these two struck up a conversation.
The one who'd flirted with Mose sank into the ground like a whipped dog.
“So you came from the Original Continent?”
“That's right. Lived there a long, long time.”
A very, very, very long time. You'd have to trace it back to your ancestors, most likely.
“I'd love to visit someday. To think there are so many beautiful people there.”
“That's what everyone says.”
At this point, I was getting a little curious. Why was the reaction identical everywhere we went? Shouldn't beauty standards differ from culture to culture?
“Do you have to look like me to count as beautiful here in the Eastern Continent too?”
“Oh! No, not at all.”
Huh? What kind of nonsense is that?
“We value ability, wisdom, and character above all.”
“Huh?”
“Outward appearance isn't the measure of beauty here.”
Doesn't that make it even more complicated?
“You, well... how do I put it. You have this unknowable warmth to you? A feeling like wanting to stay by your side. That's the sort of person you are.”
So what does that actually mean?
“What are you talking about?”
“Hmm, hard to say? The moment I saw you, I just felt like cherishing you, like I could love you? It's a feeling that comes from the soul, I suppose.”
Haah... I don't get it. Sounds like some shamanism-adjacent thing.
“Mm. Well, thank you anyway.”
“Sorry I'm not better with words.”
“No, no. You'll figure it out someday.”
Still, sitting and chatting like this with these Eastern Continent folk, you could just feel how fundamentally good they were.
Considerate of others, and above all, honest. Well, I suppose it's only these kinds of people who would pledge allegiance first, isn't it?
So what do we do about the rest of them...
“Do you know anything about these Iroquois we're heading toward?”
“A little?”
Oh! I should get a local's perspective before we arrive, shouldn't I?
“Any guess as to why they're blocking our road?”
“Well... it differs from tribe to tribe, but the land is dry, so they move where they live every few years, you see? I'd guess they're afraid that land might run short.”
If that's their worry, why not just come west? There's farmland to spare over here...
Ooh — should we supply them with potato fertilizer? It seemed to work even better than beans, if I recall.
“Hmmm...”
“Hahaha. You seem to have a great many questions.”
“I do. I've got a lot I'm curious about when it comes to the natives of the Original Continent.”
As in, I've been agonizing over how exactly to win these people over.
So the young native and I traded stories this way and that, and before I knew it, we'd pulled into the very last fort.
“TWEEEEEEET!”
“Oh? Looks like we've arrived.”
“We've been slowing down for a while now, actually.”
“Huh? Oh, really?”
Young man, you there — quite the silver tongue you have! I was too absorbed to notice.
Peering out the window, I saw only the basic layout — quarters and warehouses already built. With no threat of cannons yet, that much was plenty for a settlement.
It's not as though anyone could smash these down with a stone axe, after all.
“Well then, safe travels!”
“Thank you. I enjoyed it too. Um, by any chance—”
“Yep. No-o-ope~”
“Uhahahaha. Yes, understood.”
Did I shut him down too fast without even hearing him out? From where he was standing, that might have been confession number one of his life.
Still, a cheerful fellow. Turning away without regret, with a smile on his face... Hm. Not bad, not bad at all.
“Scribble scribble.”
“Uwah! No! Not the sides, I'm ticklish there!”
“Oh? So you're ticklish, are you?”
There she goes again with the notebook. Honestly, the woman writes down everything.
“Can't you just not write down things like that? That's private information!”
“Private information about what?”
“Is very ticklish.” Things like that. That's what you wrote, isn't it?”
“Ei, I wrote something different.”
Hmm. No way to verify it. Fine, do as you please. It's not like there's only one embarrassing entry left in the history books anyway.
“So why did you poke me, then?”
“Why don't you go meet him?”
“Ueeeek?!”
She's lost her mind, I swear. She wants me to go meet the man.
“You two were getting along so well.”
“Heheh...”
Four children, she said — now that I think about it, she really is a middle-aged lady.
“In your prime, you're supposed to meet a man, have children, live a little!”
“Uh-heheh...”
I don't even get a menstrual cycle — children are hardly in the cards.
“Let's go get some sleep.”
“Yes~”
This one has a real tendency to treat me as too much of an ordinary human being, doesn't she?
It does throw my identity into a bit of confusion, I'll admit... Am I a person or not?
The next morning, I went to meet the fort's garrison commander. I figured I ought to find out whether there'd been any demands from the other side, or any exchanges at all.
“Nothing of the sort, Your Holiness.”
“Then what have they been doing?”
“Lying in wait in the forest, nothing more — firing warning threats that this is their land and we must not cross over.”
Apparently they shoot arrows into the ground or shout warnings. Doesn't sound like they're actively looking for a war, at least?
“Is there someone over there who speaks?”
“You intend to go yourself?”
“Mm. I don't think they actually want a war.”
The trouble is, I'd be fine, but anyone coming along could be in danger...
“Bring someone over here first. I need to learn the language.”
“Understood. I'll fetch someone at once.”
So the fort commander set out to pick up a teacher, and I turned to the matter at hand.
“It could be dangerous. You're still coming, Mose?”
“If I die, just send my notebook back to Sinsi, that's all.”
“Not scared?”
“I am scared!”
So the savior this, the savior that — but dying is still scary, is it?
“The land of salvation is right here. Where do you think you'd go if you died?”
“Huh?”
Oh, so she thinks this world is the land of salvation?
These people seem to have a slightly different view of religion than I'd expected... I'd love to crack open one of their skulls someday and have a look inside.
“Well, I can pretty much guarantee you won't die, but if it comes to it, just shoot them all with your revolver.”
“Oh! At last, live fire?!”
“Have you been practicing?”
“Yes! All the time!”
Feels like only yesterday she was nagging me about having too much fun with the revolver. And now look at her...
The human heart is a selfish thing. Whatever the deed, it's always hypocrisy in the end.
“Knock knock knock.”
“Coming in.”
“Oh?”
“Well, well?”
“...”
Wasn't this the cheerful young native from the train?
“Hello! We meet again, huh?”
“Um... hello?”
“Speak casually with me~”
“But you're... someone very exalted...”
Ah, so he'd just been told I was an exalted figure, huh?
“Casual is fine. Think of me like a friend.”
“Ah... yes. Thank you.”
“Snnnrk!”
“Th-that... thank you.”
“There we go. Nicely done. Keep it up.”
What are the odds. Well, casual suits me fine too, honestly.
“Kkkkkk-ghk!”
“What is wrong with your laugh?”
“Eheheheh.”
Mose was wearing some sort of sinister smirk, morphing into a full-blown deviant. At times like this I tell you, she's a middle-aged lady, through and through.
“Now then — starting today, I'd like you to teach me the language of the natives over there.”
“Right. Let's work hard.”
Still so stiff, huh? Young man, you were chattering away freely on the train.
“Well then, enjoy your time together~”
“I'm sorry, what?”
“I'll just wait outside~”
What did this girl just say? Was she planning to freeload off this? I called after the shameless auntie trying to slip out.
“You're the one who should be learning. What are you on about?”
“Pardon?”
“You'll pick it up faster than I will, won't you? You're the smart one.”
“Guh...”
Isn't that just obvious? All I need is enough to get by and understand the gist.
And this part is important! If we can actually speak with them, we'll get to hear their real demands and find a compromise, won't we? I'll work hard too, but I need someone clever on the job.