This year’s grape harvest had turned out exceptionally well.
The sugar content of the grapes was far higher than when I farmed in the twenty-first century, and their size and flavor were overwhelmingly superior to last year’s.
“···.”
“···.”
“···.”
On top of that, the newly expanded vineyards had all produced bumper crops as well, so the amount of grapes we could send out to the surrounding areas had increased that much more. We would probably be able to obtain that many more furs, pearls, and various luxury goods.
“···.”
“···.”
“···.”
So why, then, was the atmosphere here like this?
“···Um, Harriot? How many new people came in this time?”
Grapes are a crop whose sugar content rises and whose quality improves the drier the weather is. There is a reason grape farming is difficult in Korea, where rain pours down like mad right before harvest season.
And.
Corn drinks a lot of water.
The main crops of the natives in this area are corn and beans that have undergone almost no selective breeding. The conditions are different from our crop varieties, which are relatively drought-resistant and have been improved over hundreds of years.
In any case, it goes without saying that if water becomes scarce, wild animals won’t flourish either. The amount of food obtained through hunting and gathering plummets as well.
The fact that we had achieved an unprecedented bumper crop of grapes meant, in other words, that the native tribes around us had suffered an absurdly bad harvest.
So···
“3,200 people.”
“···.”
“For reference, last month it was 2,500. The month before that, it was over 3,000 as well.”
It was now November of 1594.
In just three months, the population of our settlement had exceeded 20,000.
With the population suddenly jumping to nearly twice its size, the administrative system we had painstakingly built began to wobble. Since they had come right during the busy grape harvest season, we still hadn’t even managed to properly distribute land to them.
There was also the fact that we had not yet cleared enough land for several thousand people to farm. The development of the phosphorite mine, the corn farming scheduled for next year or the year after, and the like had all been temporarily canceled.
We weren’t short on food right now.
Potatoes always produced good yields, and the wheat we had stored instead of eating it all this time was piled up in the warehouses. We had enough to live on even if we didn’t farm for several years.
“For now, we’ve gathered all the horses and are using them to plow the fields. It won’t be vast, but I think we can prepare enough farmland for about 3,000 people.”
“Understood, Mr. Hewett. Then now the problem is what the remaining 5,000 will do.”
“···.”
But we lacked land.
“Eleanor, Vicente, and Mr. White couldn’t come today either?”
“Ah··· yes. It seems they still haven’t finished organizing the lists by today. Even with our tribesmen mobilized, this is···.”
We lacked administrative capacity.
“We need to hurry and secure timber. Even by a rough estimate, we need about 600 houses immediately···.”
“For now, we’ll have to tell the natives to build huts on their own and gradually build proper houses for them.”
And we lacked houses too.
Just looking at the state of the current meeting, with Walter Raleigh having gone to England to sell grapes and Vicente, Eleanor, and even White all unable to attend, one could tell what the situation was like. Everyone was too busy working to even come here.
There was nothing we did not lack.
···This is driving me insane.
***
Crunch.
“Good heavens (Mon Dieu)! No matter how many times I see it, it is astonishing. Such vast land.”
“Is it not too much that the English and Spaniards are trying to monopolize land like this? I even heard that a cure for the Black Death came from here. How could God bestow such a blessing upon those English Protestant bastards···.”
“Did those English Protestant bastards not support His Majesty?”
François Gravé Du Pont and his nephew Samuel de Champlain carefully made their way through the unfamiliar grasses of America, looking around.
Melons of a mysterious appearance had over-ripened, fallen to the ground, and burst apart, while passing wild animals and birds pecked at them before sensing human presence and fleeing.
“Strictly speaking, they are not monopolizing it. There are savages here, after all.”
“Hmm···.”
“Be careful. The English said that many of the savages in this land are simple and good-hearted, but those cunning people are originally prone to speaking shameless lies.
Well, our explorers did not say anything different either.”
As François said that and gestured, the other members of the expedition bravely stepped forward, walking through the low grass and rough trees.
And then.
Fshiiiiit!
An arrow flew in and embedded itself at François’s feet.
As everyone tensed and raised their guns, François calmed them with an exaggerated motion.
“Whoa, whoa··· careful. Did you not see? That arrow just struck the ground quite far from my foot, did it not? It must be a warning. As long as we do not approach any farther···.”
“#@$#%···!”
“#$#%$···!”
Soon, unintelligible words echoed through the forest, and the atmosphere François had barely calmed grew tense again. When the brave men raised their arms, nearly naked warriors sprang out from between the trees.
As they aimed various weapons at them, François too had no choice but to swallow and raise his gun.
Haah··· if only we could at least speak to resolve this situation.
If it was to be a bad encounter from the start, then they had no choice but to kill before they were killed.
Just as François, having made up his mind, quietly placed his finger on the trigger.
“···Wh···ere.”
“···Huh?”
“Where··· are··· from?”
Someone murmured in a mumbled voice.
For a moment, he thought it was one of his own subordinates and turned back, but they too were merely staring ahead with blank expressions. Filled with joy, François lowered his gun and spoke.
“France! I come from proud France! Have you learned English? Have Englishmen come here?”
If English worked, that would be preferable. It would mean they had already encountered Europeans before.
When François spoke in English, they whispered among themselves again, then all nodded. In particular, the man who had just spoken English was the first to step forward.
“I, Usamequin. This place, chief.”
“If you are a chief, then you are a king. We Frenchmen show courtesy to legitimate monarchs granted by the Lord, wherever they may be. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“···.”
“Then, where did you encounter the English? Could you perhaps tell me the place or the time···”
“Wait.”
Usamequin cut François off and quietly gave an order to the men beside him with a jut of his chin. The men disappeared into the underbrush for a moment, then came out carrying something.
It was···
“···Oh.”
A crown.
A scepter.
They were symbols of royal authority shining in pure white. Were they made of silver?
“When show courtesy. Told to wear.”
When Usamequin put on the crown, took up the scepter, and planted it on the ground, the fact that he was the ruler of this area became even clearer. François, startled despite himself, lowered his head and whispered to Samuel.
“···European-style regalia!”
“Re···ga··· what is that?”
“Ah, no, Usamequin. It is nothing.”
“···Gift.”
Usamequin said this to the Frenchmen in still awkward English, but with an appearance far more dignified than before.
The posture of the Frenchmen, who had until just moments ago been full of wariness toward savages, softened, and awe entered their voices.
“Gift···?”
“Yes.”
“From whom, exactly?”
“···.”
“···.”
“···Raleigh.”
Raleigh! Walter Raleigh! Baron Roanoke!
Was he not Queen Elizabeth’s confidant, the saint of London, and the lord of Virginia?
François, who had trembled at that name, nearly fainted at Usamequin’s next words.
“Gift from Raleigh’s··· chief.”
“···.”
“Our em···peror. Great···chief.”
“···.”
“···.”
They glanced at the crown for a moment.
The material did not seem to be of English origin. It seemed like silver or platinum, but the texture and color were subtly different.
Then there was only one answer.
“Do you know where that··· Great Chief resides···?”
“Across sea, far, south··· beyond that··· do not know.”
“···.”
“Captain, that, that looks like the aluminum we’ve only heard rumors about!”
Aluminum from the New World.
Samuel murmured in shock.
“Good heavens, the Emperor of the New World truly exists···!”
Smack.
François lightly struck the back of Samuel’s head and spoke.
“Say something sensible, Samuel. It is clearly a story about Queen Elizabeth, no matter how one looks at it.”
“Is··· that so?”
“It is.”
“Eliza···what?”
“It is nothing, Usamequin. By any chance, besides the Baron Roanoke··· no, besides a man named Walter Raleigh, was there anyone else who seemed higher in rank than him?”
“···.”
Usamequin shook his head. At that, François slowly turned his head toward his nephew and said,
“See? That chief called Usamequin says he has never met anyone besides Walter Raleigh.”
“Uh··· but the aluminum···.”
“The Queen of England has been wearing aluminum ornaments in excessive numbers lately, has she not? Besides, what reason would a native emperor have to give European-style regalia to his vassal?”
“That is true.”
“It is not merely true. I am right. If you believe a savage emperor truly exists, then I suppose you believe the stories of the saintess of London and the angel as well?”
François Gravé Du Pont was a Catholic.
In other words, he honestly could not believe stories of an angel suddenly appearing in a Protestant country. No, in fact, aside from the English, hardly anyone believed them, whether Protestant or Catholic.
“So, do you believe that an empire of savages, which no explorer from France, Spain, or England has ever discovered until now, suddenly appeared the moment England established a new colony?”
“···I suppose not.”
When Samuel, cowed by his superior’s words, spoke with his head lowered, François nodded.
François’s words were the accepted view in Europe.
A noble Christian savage emperor of the New World? Such a story was believed only by superstitious sailors or the English.
Countless explorers had come and gone through North America until now. And what they had discovered there amounted to nothing more than rather sturdy huts and half-naked savage chiefs adorned with feathers.
And yet, the moment England suddenly established a colony, a hidden empire revealed itself?
And on top of that, they possessed technology superior to Europe’s? They gave the English resources never seen before without receiving anything in return?
The English from a “peace-loving island nation” did not plunder them, kill them, enslave them, or expel them, but instead lived in harmony with them and ran a colony together?
And “by coincidence,” unlearned women who met an angel there brought back a cure for the Black Death?
Above all.
‘···Trust England?’
A country whose king abandoned his faith because he wanted to remarry a pretty woman? The least trustworthy country in the world?
Nonsense. Only fools trusted England.
No matter how much France and England were allies under the banner of opposition to Spain, François simply could not bring himself to trust them.
Was that not a place where even the royal budget was filled by piracy?
Furthermore, England had more than enough reason to spout such nonsense.
It was convenient propaganda to claim that, unlike the Spaniards who exploited the pitiful natives, they had established a virtuous colony.
It was convenient to boast domestically that they had made an ally of a Christian monarch of the New World, whose existence was uncertain.
And even if all sorts of luxury goods emerged, it was convenient to say, “These are not bloodstained jewels like Spain’s. Our good native emperor gave them to us as gifts. Sob, sob.”
“That damned ‘native emperor’··· does he have some jar that produces infinite precious metals and every kind of resource? Enough to shower those English bastards with them?”
“Did they not say they were trading? Who knows? Perhaps it really was peaceful, unexpectedly.”
“Yes. Yes. With bullets, no doubt.”
“Ahem.”
As the two rapidly fired off words in French, Usamequin, unable to understand a thing, frowned.
“Ah, my apologies, Usamequin. I had no intention whatsoever of ignoring you.”
Worried that the atmosphere might soon turn bad, François handed him other wondrous items, such as a compass and flint, before withdrawing.
He had decided.
He had come here under royal command to conduct preliminary work before constructing a small liaison post for trade in luxury goods.
Under normal circumstances, King Henri IV of France would have forbidden him from going any farther south beyond a certain point out of concern for friction with England.
However··· right now, there were far too many fruits in the south that were too tempting to give up.
‘Even if I must make it look like an accident, I will approach the English colony and uncover the identity of that “native emperor.”’
Then, he would search for other sources of the precious aluminum and furs and open trade with the natives.
That was his goal.
As a man of common sense in Europe, François did not doubt for even a moment that England’s propaganda was false. This “native emperor” was nothing but a fiction scrawled by England’s strumpet Elizabeth and her catamite Walter Raleigh.
Who would believe that?
***
“Ahem, hem, hrm···.”
“What is the matter, Your Excellency, Baron Roanoke?”
“It is nothing. For some reason my ears itch. The Emperor of the natives told me that when one’s ears itch, it means someone is speaking ill of them.”
“Hahahaha, what an amusing notion. Her Majesty the Queen is waiting.”
Thus Raleigh, dressed to the nines and perfumed, entered the queen’s bedchamber while feeling something strangely peculiar.
“Walt! Come here. Tell me a little more about that fascinating ship.”
“My queen···.”
It was when the queen of the least trustworthy country in the world and her favorite were enjoying themselves together for the first time in a while.