Hmm... This is from a previous chapter:
And now there's this enigmatic old woman...
And now there's this enigmatic old woman...
...Most intriguing.
His Soul is Marching On to Another World; or, the John Brown Isekai
- Thread starter CabbagePreacher
- Start date
- Original Novel Fantasy
Chapter XXVII – Bless them which meet you.
CabbagePreacher
Grand Preacher of All Brassicans
- Location
- Brasscirom, Cabbagelandetia
- Pronouns
- Anything
Most that I have done and suffered in the service of our cause has been in public, and I have received much encouragement at every step of the way. You, on the other hand, have labored in a private way. I have wrought in the day, you in the night. I have had the applause of the crowd and the satisfaction that comes of being approved by the multitude, while the most that you have done has been witnessed by a few trembling, scarred, and foot-sore bondmen and women, whom you have led out of the house of bondage, and whose heartfelt "God bless you" has been your only reward. The midnight sky and the silent stars have been the witnesses of your devotion to freedom and of your heroism. Excepting John Brown, of sacred memory, I know of no one who has willingly encountered more perils and hardships to serve our enslaved people than you have.
- Frederick Douglass' letter to a certain someone (1868)
Old John Brown sat in his new room, the former dining room of the Algernon estate, inspecting what might be the most important item in the entire building: a map detailing Mount Curry and its immediate area. He had found this map while looking around the late Algernon's office. Other copper mines, farms, villages… All were noted on one gargantuan piece of paper detailing bits of information about these locations. This would be pretty useful for their future expeditions, and Brown had already began constructing further plans in his head.
Ayomide came into the room, carrying two cups of tea. "Old man, you still staring at the paper?" She set one cup down for Brown, and took a sip from the other. Getting something to drink other than slime soup felt heavenly.
"May God bless you, young lady." Brown accepted Ayomide's offer for having a tea break. He leaned back on his chair, his old spine making concerning cracks as he did. "I wish we had someone else that could read, but alas." These sorts of jobs requiring literacy had all been left to Brown. Latin script was pretty commonly used in Gemeinplatz, as Brown had observed in his visit to Azdavay, and items like maps usually had transcriptions in English written under native Gemeinplatzian script.
Ayomide stared at the map with a blank expression. She was unable to read any of the text on it. "Man, I wish I could read." Knowledge was power; the slaveowners definitely didn't intend to distribute power to their chattel. "All of these symbols look too complicated to learn. Too many of them."
"It's not too complicated, young lady. The English alphabet isn't, anyways, I don't know anything about this other writing that they use in this realm." Brown leaned forward to point at a point on the map that was spelled with an "A". "For example, this is pronounced as 'a'. A. There are twenty-five other letters like it, learning them all shouldn't be too hard."
"Eigh. Eeeigh." The odd way that an English speaker like Brown spelt 'A' didn't help Ayomide much in understanding anything. "Eigh? Which place has a name beginning with eigh?"
"Azdaweigh. The town that we had visited, young lady." Even if the local language had been somehow beamed into his mind, Brown wasn't adept at pronunciation.
"That's pronounced Az-da-vay. Not Eigh-zee-da-weeigh, whatever that's supposed to be." Ayomide took another look at the letter 'A'. "I'm guessing that this is supposed to be pronounced more like '[aː]' not '[ˈeɪ]'. We're not in Awmereighka, old man. Nobody here pronounces anything like that."
"Is that so…" Pronunciation was a battle that was fiercer than any battles Brown had in Kansas. Even with divine intervention, it seemed, he wouldn't be able to stop pronouncing "A" differently. "Oh Lord, guide me in pronunciation." He took a sip out of his tea to calm himself down. "No matter my pronunciation, I plan on getting to teach everyone how to read and write eventually." Currently, the former Algernon estate was operating in a mode of full mobilization which left no time for A's, B's and C's.
Literacy would have to come after they were sure that they could defend this place, or organize an orderly retreat if they couldn't. Realistically, Brown thought, they had to retreat from the estate. He didn't plan on staying here for long anyways, guerilla warfare like the one he planned to conduct involved not having any known place that the enemy could assault. Staying immobile in a known location was the worst case scenario. Still, before the local forces could mobilize to meet him, Brown planned on using the estate as much as he could before their inevitable retreat.
"Mister Brown, hello? Anybody there?" Ayomide waved her hand in front of Brown, who had spaced out while thinking of future plans.
"Sorry, young lady. I was just following a train of thought that happened to pass by." Brown took a deep breath. The future was the future; the present was the present. He needed to focus on what was in front of him right now. "I think it'd be best if I trained someone to be a teacher, someone who has decent command of this realm's language."
"Guess I can do that. I don't mind learning how to read and write. I could teach the rest." Her time in the service industry as a waitress had already given Ayomide a decent grasp of Gemeinplatzian language. Learning to read and write didn't seem to be too daunting of a task: memorizing twenty-six letters wasn't exactly the hardest thing in the world.
"Great, young lady." Brown seemed pleased at her willingness to learn the ABCs. "Then… Let us begin right now, if you are not occupied." He grabbed an errant sheet of empty paper, and intended to write some letters on it, before he was interrupted by a knock on the door. "…Or not. Come in, we're not busy."
A small group entered the office, which was a lot more than Brown had expected from a single knock. This group of freemen was armed with spears, and they surrounded a smaller group of three people.
Brown was about to ask what the meaning of their visit was, but he immediately stopped once he realized the existence of a certain old woman among the ranks of the smaller group. The old man rubbed his eyes two or three, trying to make sure that he wasn't seeing some sort of illusion. The familiar figure still stood in front of him, as real as anything else in the room.
"Praise be to the Lord, is that…" Brown rose up from his chair to show respect. "…is that really you? I had heard about one 'Miss Moses', but I thought that it was impossible for it to be you!"
"As real as you are, Brown." The old woman slowly walked toward Brown. "I knew that you were not the type of man to lay calmly, moldering in a grave."
The crowd of freemen looked at each other, confused as to what connection these two people might have. Bilal stepped forward to voice their concerns. "Who's this woman, Mister Brown?"
"Right. You probably haven't been acquainted." Brown stepped aside to present an old friend to the people in the room. "I bring you one of the best and bravest persons on the American continent and on this realm: General Tubman as we called her."
"Harriet Tubman. Former conductor on the Underground Railroad and…" Tubman walked toward the two people she had brought along with her. "…current conductor of the League of Canaanites."
"So those queer hooded figures talking about 'Miss Moses'…" Brown definitely remembered seeing the same sort of dark, hooded people back in his flight from Azdavay. "…they were your men?" His smile widened greatly. "It seems that General Tubman has outshone us once again." None of the men in the room, except for Brown and the men of the league, had ever seen Tubman. They weren't sure as to what Brown was alluding to by "once again".
"It is only by the grace of God that we've been able to get so far, Brown. So far back in America, and so far here in Gemeinplatz. The Lord hasn't deserted us in any trouble." Tubman didn't forget to add an obligatory dose of Christian humility.
"Indeed, let us not forget that." Brown added a few more words of praise to the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit before continuing. The freemen watched while these otherworlders participated in this odd ritual. Ayomide yawned; she had seen this same thing play out far too many times whenever the old man achieved something. "…Now then, General Tubman, please sit down. Join me for some tea, and let us talk of business as usual."
"That'd be nice, yes." Harriet took a seat, along with her hooded comrades, and the crowd of curious onlookers dispersed. They weren't exactly interested in eavesdropping on a conversation between two close comrades, not to mention the fact that they had actual work to do.
Ayomide soon came back with a fresh cup of tea for her new sister. "Here you go, Miss Tubman." She took a few steps back to properly introduce herself to this friend of John Brown. "I'm Ayomide from Azdavay." She instinctively ended up performing a curtsy, an act that was still engrained within her from the maid café. Ayomide was under mind-control at that time, of course, but her body still remembered how she had been moved.
"Oh, what a nice young lady you are." Tubman was a bit surprised at how refined Ayomide seemed. Her wearing clothes 'borrowed' from Sir Algernon, Lady Leila's clothes were a tad bit large for her, made her look like she was supposed to be the owner of the estate they were standing on. A silk waistcoat and pants (Brown was shocked when he learned of the fact that woman wearing pants was common in Gemeinplatz) made Ayomide look uncomfortably sharp for her own tastes.
"Thank you, mistres- Ahem, Miss Tubman." Ayomide had to stop herself from being overly formal. Her gaze shifted toward the strange hooded figures who had been standing quietly, watching them while they had been proceeding with the introductions. "…So, who are these people?" Ayomide pointed at the strangers.
"Oh, they?" Tubman turned around to meet her followers. "Come on, we're with our allies. I don't need to tell you to uncloak."
The figure on the right took off her hood, revealing a face that Brown and Ayomide had ended up making themselves familiar with. "Sorry. Just a force of habit." It was Kyauta. "Though, I don't think introductions are necessary for me."
Yes, I've been all to closely acquainted with you and your knife, thought Ayomide.
Brown knew Kyauta too, though not as closely as Ayomide, for she was a character that he had met in the first chapter of his life in this new realm. "Glad to see that the Holy Spirit guided you to safety and good company."
"Indeed, I have been guided to a good place." Kyauta, having stopped being in mission mode, found herself a chair to sit down and relax. "Vaiz, I believe it's your turn."
"Right! Right, it's my turn." The other figure who revealed himself was a young man. He looked out of place in this gathering of freed slaves, with his skin colored like fresh milk that had been left in the sun for too long. His eyes were crystal blue, like a clear river under daylight, and his locks had color that wouldn't be off on the bark of a tree. His teeth were mostly intact, which was pretty rare in a land like Gemeinplatz where dentists were as common as unicorns on Mars.
"I'm Vaiz, priest… or former priest of the Temple of the Divine. Peace be upon ye." Vaiz acted timidly in his introduction, and his appearance was one of a young man from a well-off family who hadn't seen much of the world yet. "They kicked me out when I tried to teach The Hallow Word to demi-humans, you see. The people of Casamonu didn't take kindly to me doing that…"
"A priest?" Brown hadn't been able to gather much information about religion in Gemeinplatz. He had no qualms working together with anyone of good character who professed abolitionism, regardless of creed. A younger Brown would have began arguing with this man over doctrine, an older Brown still planned to do so later in their free time, but with age had come wisdom as to when argument and debate was appropriate.
"Y-Yes, sir." Vaiz took off the rest of the black robes to reveal the white robe of a priest. He took out a small skullcap from his pockets and put it on to complete his hallow outfit. "With Divine guidance, I intend to right the heretical doctrine of the Temple barring our darkskin and demi-human siblings from seeing the light."
Vaiz seemed to gain a whole lot more fervor at the last part of his speech, casting off this timidness. Thus began, unbeknownst to many, a grand schism and reformation within the Temple of the Divine.
Note: The "certain someone" mentioned in the beginning quote is Harriet Tubman. So, who's this Harriet Tubman that Brown's so acquainted with?
Harriet Tubman (born in the March of 1822) was an American abolitionist who began her life as a slave in Maryland. She was, like all the other slaves, abused greatly by her master and the overseer, and after having a heavy metal weight thrown at her head, Tubman began experiencing hypersomnia and strange visions that she thought were premonitions from God. As once can guess, direct communication from the Lord lead her to being deeply religious. She escaped in 1849, returning afterwards to rescue the rest of her family from enslavement. Tubman didn't stop with her family though, she continued to liberate slaves (around 70 of them) from the South and lead them to freedom in the North (either in the free states or slavery-free Canada). Her acts in freeing the enslaved made her come to be known as "Moses", in comparison to a particular prophet who lead the Israelites out of slavery.
"I bring you one of the best and bravest persons on this continent — General Tubman as we call her."
- John Brown introducing Harriet Tubman to Wendell Phillips.
Tubman and Brown were acquainted in the April of 1858. She herself hadn't participated in violent action like Brown, but she agreed with his plan of action for the Raid on Harper's Ferry. Tubman agreed with helping Brown in terms of intelligence (as she had oft trodden the states between the North and South) and recruitment of the formerly enslaved for his planned rebellion. Unfortunately, Harriet Tubman wasn't present when the raid finally launched. There are several different theories put forward by historians as to why she might have been absent, some think she might have been going through a bout of illness due to her head injury, some say that she might have been busy recruiting even more people for Brown elsewhere. Tubman was illiterate, meaning that there are no records written by her.
After Brown's death and the beginning of the American Civil War, Tubman worked for the Union Army as a scout and a spy. She lead the Raid on Combahee Ferry, an expedition of 150 black troops, freeing another 700-800 slaves.
"Colonel Montgomery and his gallant band of 300 black soldiers under the guidance of a black woman, dashed into the enemy's country, struck a bold and effective blow, destroying millions of dollars worth of commissary stores, cotton and lordly dwellings, and striking terror into the heart of rebeldom, brought off nearly 800 slaves and thousands of dollars worth of property, without losing a man or receiving a scratch. It was a glorious consummation.... The colonel was followed by a speech from the black woman who led the raid and under whose inspiration it was originated and conducted. For sound sense and real native eloquence her address would do honor to any man, and it created a great sensation." - A contemporary newspaper reporting on the raid.
For her service, Tubman was never given a proper salary or any other form of compensation (can you guess why? It starts with "race" and ends with "ism"). She was in constant poverty for the rest of her life. She was able to scrape by, thanks to working various jobs and receiving support from her supporters. Only in 1899 did Congress approve to give her 20$/month (8$ from her pension and 12$ for her service as a nurse), though her job as a scout and spy in the army wasn't acknowledged. Tubman passed from pneumonia in 1913 (her last words being "I go to prepare a place for you"), penniless, surrounded by friends and family.
Chapter XXVIII – Bless them which inform you.
CabbagePreacher
Grand Preacher of All Brassicans
- Location
- Brasscirom, Cabbagelandetia
- Pronouns
- Anything
With their introductions to Brown done, Kyauta and Vaiz left the room to find accommodate themselves with the rest of the freemen, and to also make arrangements for their accommodation. Ayomide went out to help them, leaving the old acquaintances Brown and Tubman alone to catch up.
The two abolitionists sat across each other, with tea on the table to fuel discussion. Brown began, after putting down his cup and clearing his throat, their catching-up. "So… General Tubman. We haven't seen each other for a long time." Brown was a gentleman, not of the snobby noble kind but of the learned kind, who always made sure to have an air of humble formality. "We last met… I believe somewhere in the spring of 1858."
"Yes, before you went on your divine mission to free the slaves." It felt odd, for Tubman, to be talking about time. "I've seen the Lord, Mister Brown, and He has told me that we'd surely meet again. I thought that He was referring to Heaven, but…" She looked once more again at Brown, in disbelief. "God's plan is mysterious as it is grand.
"Indeed, it is." Brown did hold hope in his heart that he'd finally get to pass on to the afterlife after his mission on Gemeinplatz was done. He missed his family, whom most had already gained admission the Pearly Gates. "I assume that there was good reason for the absence of General Tubman at Harper's Ferry?" He slowly shifted the topic to a sensitive question that had been bugging his mind since his capture at Harper's Ferry.
"You have done more in dying than a hundred men would do in living. I wouldn't have been absent if I could have helped." Tubman took a sip out the tea to ready herself for the next part. "Truth is, I can't recall much of that time. All I remember is a vision, of a wilderness. There, a serpent raised its head amongst the rocks there. Its head was that of an old man with a long white beard, looking at me wishfully. Two heads rose up, younger than he. A great crowd of men rushed to strike down the young heads, followed by the old one. I didn't get what this meant, until I heard news of your capture and the death of your sons."
Brown wasn't, despite what might one initially assume, the type to seek signs and fall into superstition. Even then, he couldn't ignore such clear symbolism. "A snake… I remember another too, in Maryland when we were setting up the house for the raid. Annie, my daughter, she and I were sitting one afternoon when we saw two wrens at the door."
"I approached the birds and their nest, only to find a snake poised to attack the bird's young. I killed the snake, to protect the nest, and I thought of it to be an omen of success in our upcoming fight for the slaves." Brown thought of the snake as having represented the evils of slavery, soon to be crushed before it could inflict further damage upon the innocent. It seemed, however, that the snake had been the one to bite him in America.
Tubman had another idea. "And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up." She quoted a relevant passage from the Gospel of John (3:14 to be exact). Tubman thought that, like the Savior, Brown had found salvation in his death. They had another chance to right what was wrong, this time in another world. "I think it is clear what the Lord intends."
Brown fell silent. He had already decided that his journey to another world was a divine mission, on the first day he arrived in Gemeinplatz in fact. These revelations didn't do anything but further steel his resolve. "I have had no doubt about that, General Tubman. Faith is dead without works; we shall strive to work wherever we are."
"That's the spirit, God bless you. It's good to see that old John Brown ain't dead." Tubman had been worried about the mental and spiritual state of Brown, considering how she herself had a hard time adjusting after being thrust into a foreign land.
"Speaking of dying, how did America fare after I left it?" Brown had wanted to learn more about this from Jacob, but the old man had rudely cut their conversation (and Jacob's neck) short. "I heard, from Sir Jacob who you might know, that there has been a civil war of some sort, and that the Northerners won."
"Ah, yes. I was intending to get there." Tubman rocked back and forth on her chair as she reminisced what had happened a while ago for her. "As I've said, you did what many couldn't by dying. Those 'masters' in the South were pretty afraid of a thousand more John Browns springing up and inciting rebellion in their lands. Eventually, after the election of a president who opposed the expansion of slavery, the Southern states decided that they'd band together and secede rather than let the African be free."
"In my younger days, I had vainly thought that emancipation could be achieved without much bloodshed." Brown couldn't help but heave a deep sigh in reaction to the stubbornness and cruelty of his countrymen. "The fact that the Lord hasn't cracked the earth under us is only a sign of His mercy."
"Amen." Tubman couldn't help but agree, she herself wasn't sure how God hadn't lost His patience during the American Civil War. "Hundreds of thousands bled, to keep the Union intact. It was like Armageddon came to America. I fought there too, and in the end we did end up winning the war over the Confederacy, but not the war over liberation."
"You didn't win the war over liberation?" Brown was so shocked that he slammed the tea cup on the table. "What happened? Was slavery not abolished after all that bloodshed?" He was about to start preaching about eternal damnation if that was the case.
"You see, the old form of slavery was abolished. By a new amendment, in fact." Tubman paused a bit, trying her best to remember it. "Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime where the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction." Tubman simply quoted the Thirteenth Amendment, not adding any further commentary.
"…except as a punishment for crime where the party shall have been duly convicted?" Brown could guess where this was going. "This makes the abolishment of slavery useless if states can hand out arbitrary punishments to put the freemen back into bondage!" Tubman didn't respond; Brown understood that his guess was correct. "Oh, may God save our souls…"
Brown looked the most troubled he had been since he had arrived in Gemeinplatz. Even the bear attack hadn't angered him this much, for a bear attacking was a part of its nature while humanity could choose a better way. "So, hundreds of thousands died, only for…" He couldn't continue. It was too much for him.
John Brown wept, for there were no more ferries to raid.
Brown wanted to burn down the entirety of Congress, unfortunately for the millions in bondage but fortunately for the job security of congressmen, he was currently not in America. He'd have probably burnt down the rest of the country in righteous fury if he learned that the Thirteenth Amendment still worked the same way in the 21st century.
"Excuse me, General Tubman." Brown got up from his seat. He wiped a few of his own tears with his hands. "I- I need a moment to calm down and pray to the Almighty."
"No problem, Mister Brown." Tubman got up as well. She also needed a moment of prayer.
The old man stormed out the room, determined to not let reconstruction in Gemeinplatz not go the way it did in America.
6th of Summer, 5859
Casamonu, Empire of Gemeinplatz
Kim Seong-min was back at the Count Leon's mansion, though he hadn't planned on being back here so soon. His sister Do-Yun sat beside him while they watched the summoned people fill the grand hall, the siblings surrounded by the mercenaries Kim had brought over from Korea. The count's summon had reached far and wide, and the high-ups of the duchy had made sure to answer the call swiftly in hopes of currying favor from their liege.
Kim was introducing the newcomers to his sister as they came. "This one's… he's the son of some local merchant. I don't remember his name." He wanted his sister to be ready to take over the company in case of an emergency, or at least help out with his work in the future. Do-Yun wasn't interested in politicking, but she was interested in court intrigue.
"Oh, he fits the role of a nameless background character perfectly!" commented Do-Yun. The merchant's son probably would have a few objections about that if he could understand the Korean language. "And who are those… Chinese guys?" Do-Yun's eyes followed a group of newly arrived men in white robes.
Upon the mention of the Chinese, Kim became a whole lot more dismissive and his mood suddenly got a whole lot worse. "They're just the cultivating loonies of Long Dong's sect." It had been a while since he had seen Dong's men. "Apparently he went out of isolation after hearing the count's summon." He kept a close eye on the sect members, who were standing around and talking to others in the hall. Kim had a bad feeling about what Dong might be planning.
"Make way for the Pavise Hero, Iwagaya Takafumi!" Kim's thoughts of suspicion were interrupted by the pompous entrance of one Japanese man, with an iconic pavise attached to his shoulder, and his harem of demi-humans. Everyone in the room groaned as they saw him enter. "So, what do you blue-blooded freaks want?" The room ignored Takafumi, and continued chatting away with each other.
However, someone else followed Takafumi. "Make way for the Dungeon Hero, Jonathan Brown!" He too, had a harem of demi-humans, though this harem was a bit smaller compared to Takafumi's one. Everyone in the room, especially Takafumi, groaned in great annoyance when they saw him enter. The room then continued to ignore Brown.
"Look at the new kid on the block, stealing my spot." Takafumi walked up to Brown. They proceeded to argue verbally while everyone in the room did their best to continue ignoring them.
"That Pavise Hero sure is lively today." Kim leaned back on his chair as if he was watching a game of football. He wished there was some popcorn he could snack on while watching them argue.
"He has the energy of an arrogant antagonist." added Do-Yun. "Jonathan seems to minor to be an antagonist though, maybe he'd be a bully in the background."
"Don't underestimate that Jonathan guy." said Kim, stopping his carefree leaning. "He's only been in Gemeinplatz since the beginning of this spring, but he has already managed to become important enough to be summoned here." Kim was a bit of an egoist, seeing himself a bit above everyone else, but he was also a businessman. The pragmatic, businesslike side of him felt danger when he was faced with Jonathan. "Jon must have a cheat skill allowing his ascent, but I have no clue as to what it might be. Presumably it has something to do with dungeons."
Before Kim could audibly theorize further, the room suddenly calmed down. He stopped to look around to where everyone was looking at: the door. Count Leon had arrived.
"Make way for His Excellency!" The servant beside Leon entered the room, further announcing his arrival. Everyone important in the room obliged as they took a seat around the large table that covered the hall. Their servants stood beside them, there not being enough seats to seat all.
The count slowly made way for his position at the head of the table. He leisurely sat down, not because he was at leisure, but because he wanted to project an image of being calm and having the situation under control. "Now, you might be wondering why I gave gathered you all here today. Some of you may already know the reason as to why."
"You have probably heard of the incident involving the uprising at Azdavay." The hall was quieter than quiet at the mention of the exodus. "Do not worry, we've already arrested and dealt with the perpetrators. However, the fugitives remain at large, and they have captured a copper mine in the Curry Mountains, wantonly executed one of my knights, not to mention that they're holding the knight's family hostage." Leon's servant took out the letter from Sir Baha, and read it out loud. Sounds of shock and disdain reverberated throughout the room.
"These fugitives must be stopped, before they grow bolder and threaten to throw our entire county into anarchy. For the sake of the commonwealth of the realm, I ask you to lend the aid you've promised for anti-fugitive action."
Extra historical context: The vision (of the snakes) shared by Harriet Tubman and the event (about the snake) shared by Brown are based on real accounts.
Waiiit a second... This is from the first chapter:
And now we have this:
Gasp! He's here.
I've got the feeling this is going to be important...
And now we have this:
Gasp! He's here.
I've got the feeling this is going to be important...
CabbagePreacher
Grand Preacher of All Brassicans
- Location
- Brasscirom, Cabbagelandetia
- Pronouns
- Anything
Just another steorotype with an appropriately punny name.
Chapter XXIX – Bless them which argue with you.
CabbagePreacher
Grand Preacher of All Brassicans
- Location
- Brasscirom, Cabbagelandetia
- Pronouns
- Anything
All was not well on Baha's part. All was not well.
"Your cousin was executed, Your Excellency, I get your frustration…" However, he still had to get down on his knees and suck on the boots of his rightful liege. "…but, please, those savages have my sister! We could at least negotiate, wait for them to release her, and then attack!"
The council, much to Baha's disdain, was one of imminent war. It was not that Baha was a man of peace, definitely not, but he was a man of not having his immediate family die to a bunch of revolting savages. For all this petty lord knew, Leila's throat would be slit open the moment the scouts of his liege were seen circling around the mine. Not to mention the fate of her children…
"Yes, you do have my condolences." Leon wasn't having any of his vassal's pleading. "You see Sir Baha, these darkskins will be violating more than your sister if we let them continue their activities further." All of this uprising business was dangerous for the prospects of Leon getting to stay as a count. "It's for the good of the realm, I assure you."
"I- I…" Baha kept his head down low even while he rose up from his kneeling stance. There wasn't much of anything he could gain by arguing further. "Understood, Your Excellency." The petty lord bowed to his lord and left the room, heaving a deep sigh and muttering some quiet curses after he made sure that the door was closed.
Baha slowly made his way out of the count's castle, continuing to quietly complain when there wasn't any servants or guards that could hear him. "Even those bloody darkskins must have more honor than this prick." That was an odd thought to hear be said out loud, but Baha had lost much of his patience and trust against his liege.
A lord was supposed to protect his vassals, that was the whole shtick with feudalism and vassalage, but Leon had completely ignored that completely by sacrificing Baha's sister. Yes, Baha couldn't help but agree that defeating the fugitives sooner would be better for the commonwealth of the realm, but he also couldn't help but act irrationally when faced with losing someone so close to him. At least the darkskins had, according to the observations of his servant, kept their side of the bargain.
What good was a liege who was no better than the so-called savages?
7th of Summer, 5859
Former Estate of Sir Algernon (just find a new name already for God's sake), Azdavay / Casamonu
Summer had come to Northern Gemeinplatz, though Brown didn't exactly know what to make of this "summer". It wasn't like summer in Connecticut or Kansas, sweltering and humid, but it was a summer where the air kept cool and the rain rarely ceased. Even if Brown had never seen it, he had heard that the gentle cold breeze of Northern Gemeinplatz was owed to the "dark sea" neighboring them.
With the skilled hands of the freemen, the trench constructing plan had been completed without much of a hitch (except for Bilal almost breaking his pinky while instructing someone on how to swing a pick). The estate area was small, contributing to the lightning-quick pace of ditch construction. Now a small line of earthen brown snaked its way through the outskirts of the estate, separating the outside from the inside.
Brown, he himself having worked digging trenches for a couple hours before his old back became too sore to proceed, and the freemen looked proudly at the mounds of dirt that they had dug up. It was hard labor, the sort that they had been doing for the last few years now, but it was work for the sake of themselves and not someone else.
The question now was: What next?
The freemen had a whole lot more options now, especially thanks to the ransom so graciously delivered to them by Sir Baha. Instead of money, Brown had initially requested for items to be delivered with most of those items being various tools of labor and industry. He planned on kickstarting proper construction, though it'd take him a good while to teach these newly freed men to do jobs other than mining. Still, he believed that these hardworking folk wouldn't have a hard time learning anything given proper instruction.
"Now that we have taken our first step towards self-defense…" began Brown, turning to address the crowd. "…what else do you need?" It was a simple question, yet it was an important one. The old man wanted these people to govern themselves and truly be free, not for them to mindlessly listen to the words of some foreigner and accept Brown as their dictator-in-chief. The freemen would know best what they needed, all that was needed was for them to express and organize.
Hakim was the first one to raise a hand. "We're running low on firewood. I'll have to burn the furniture if we don't work on that." He looked around the crowd, before turning to newly-appointed foreman Bilal. "Your men can spend a bit of time chopping trees, right?"
Ayomide interjected before Bilal could reply. "We also need more of those copper spears. Having some ditch isn't going to help us."
The former maid Ekene further interrupted the foreman. "Most importantly, someone has been sneaking food off from the pantry! You know, we have limited food right now folks. We need to ration rationally if we want to stay alive!"
Without the need for much intervention, the disorganized crowd began organizing themselves. Thus, from becoming free of the shackle, the freemen also began freeing themselves further in another way, a way that'd help them be free of lords in the future.
Of course, all of the work that the freemen needed to do wouldn't begin instantly.
They were human after all (despite what some might claim) and humans need breaks. It was the middle of the day now, with the sun having risen right on top even if nobody could see it thanks to the clouds, and nobody really wanted to go back to hard labor after having completed one project.
So it was that the freemen had gathered today to fulfill a need that had gone unfulfilled: their spiritual needs. In a world unforgiving and hostile to them, pretending that there was a deity or were deities who cared about them made everyone less worried about their situation. Being less worried gave them strength to face their source of worry, which leads to gratitude against whatever they just prayed to, so on and so forth until you get belief and religion.
The scene inside the dining hall, where the freemen gathered as usual, was an odd one.
"Oh, how I prayed then, lying all alone on the cold damp ground; 'Oh, dear Lord', I said. I haven't got no friend but you. Come to my help Lord, for I'm in trouble!" On one corner was Brown and Kyauta, facing Tubman while she was giving a makeshift sermon in front of a makeshift cross. They were also accompanied by Ekene and Ejike, who had mostly tailed them out of curiosity as to what these "Krischuns" were doing.
"Let me remind you that the duty of a good Believer is to let his dear man stand free, free to face the Divine whoever he might be! Now, let me tell you the story, one that they skip over in the Temple, of a freed slave who was a dear companion to our Prophet…" On the opposite corner were Vaiz and his new followers, with Bilal and a few of the other freemen sitting on the floor while listening to him.
On the complete opposite to this soup of belief sat Ayomide, Hakim, Tater and their big band of folk who didn't care about either group. Having your family unceremoniously be torn apart, a common fate for any slave, wasn't conductive to religious instruction of any kind. This neutral group prayed in their own unique ways, counting through a prayer bead, or rubbing a particularly lucky coin, or perhaps reciting bits of prayer to various deities and non-deities.
Thus was the odd syncretic environment in the former estate, one of Christianity, of the Divine Temple, and of folk religion side-by-side. Of white, Brown, and black united in common cause. A microcosm showing what might, perhaps, be the future in the macrocosm of Gemeinplatz. A future that's frightening for some, exciting for others, currently not even imaginable by most.
The various groups finished their prayers, and dissolved to spend their free time at leisure. Leisure, in this case, meant very different things for very different people. Brown himself preferred to never spend time being idle, idleness being a broad term in his puritan book, and his activities consisted of sport and education (of others and himself). Ayomide was usually the one being educated by Brown, though thankfully she managed to stave off Bible study and Earth history thanks to the addition of new people for Brown to talk to. She either practiced with the M1 or she ran around the estate grounds to keep herself fit. Ayomide was doing just that, until she encountered a newly familiar sight approaching the estate.
"Evening, Ted." It was the servant of Sir Baha, bringing them another installment of ransom. "Beware the ditches, you don't want your horse to fall down there."
Ted stopped his horse, barely in time for the animal not to fall in and break its legs. "When… When did you darkskins construct a fucking trench?!" Darkskins were supposed to be lazy, or so he thought. Stashing away his racist thoughts for a moment, Ted got off the horse to present a large bag of money. "This is all we can muster right now. Turning assets into liquid cash isn't easy."
Ayomide took the bag, and found cash in it that was clearly solid. "…I'm pretty sure this isn't liquid anything. Are you trying to scam us?"
"No- It's a financial term, for…" Ted quickly gave up on explaining. "It's cash nonetheless. May I see the mistress?"
"No matter how many times you see her, she isn't going anywhere." Ayomide still accompanied the man into the main building nonetheless, to the upstairs where Leila's room lay. "Please make your meeting quick, I don't want to waste my leisure time with your lightskin business."
Ted didn't respond. He opened the door to the room, finding Leila who was clearly still alive much to his relief. "Mistress! Are you fine?"
Leila responded the same way she had responded before. "Fine as one can reasonably be in such a situation." She was currently dying of boredom, being confined into one room and all, other than that nothing of note had happened to her. "The children are fine as well, thank the Divine."
"That's good, that's good." Ted took out a letter from his pocket. He glanced over to Ayomide to see if she was okay with him handing it over.
Ayomide snatched the letter, examining it with her hands to make sure that nothing sharp (like a weapon) was stashed inside it. She didn't send any magic coming off of it either, an enchanted paper causing something like an explosion would be quite troubling, so she gave the letter back to Ted without causing any further problems for him.
From Ted the letter passed on to Leila, from Leila the letter passed on to the table to be read later, from the table the letter passed nowhere because letters (usually) do not move by themselves. "It's a letter from your brother." Ted bowed down to his mistress. "He's currently doing his best to gather the funds for your ransom."
Leila thought that his brother was slow, but she also knew the fact that he was lacking in financial matters. "Has he petitioned Count Leon yet? I'd think that the count could help him in this situation."
"That…" Ted didn't look willing to continue this conversation further. His eyes shifted to Ayomide, then the door. "That… I have to go, mistress. I shouldn't overstay my welcome here."
"Right…" Ted and Leila parted ways quickly as they had met. The mistress watched, from the window, as Ayomide led Ted outside and the butler jumped on his horse and disappeared into the woods once more.
With the servant gone, Leila's attention was once more taken by the letter. There was nothing else she could do to entertain herself, so opening the letter was her only choice.
The seal of the letter broke as it opened, and so did she.
Chapter XXX – Bless them which revile you.
CabbagePreacher
Grand Preacher of All Brassicans
- Location
- Brasscirom, Cabbagelandetia
- Pronouns
- Anything
Ayomide had woken up today, on the wrong side of the bed to be exact. Somebody had left one of the windows open in the barracks and the breeze had frozen her back stiff during the night. She cursed the person who had made her sleep a living hell.
However, her troubles were not to be over. She was making her way to Lady Leila's room, with food as usual, when she heard awful noises coming from the room: cries and moans of pain. Plenty of them, and Ayomide worried, at least a little bit, whether the former mistress was dying back there. The abolitionist catgirl ran into the room, praying that their source of ransom wasn't about to end further existence.
She gently opened the door to see that, visually at least, Leila was fine. There was no blood or anything, so things didn't seem to be too bad. The woman was clutching to her belly, too busy being in pain to say anything coherent to Ayomide.
"Oh… is this what I think it is?" Ayomide didn't need Leila's response to understand what was happening. Shit. What do I do? Being an abolitionist catgirl wizard was a completely separate branch of business compared to midwifery. "Uhm… Uhm…" Now she was panicking as well, this situation was somehow more stressful compared to impaling the overseers with javelins. At least she knew how to deliver a javelin, delivering babies was a whole lot more delicate of a job.
An idea struck Ayomide. Right, didn't Brown have twenty children or something? He should know at least a little bit about midwifery… or would it be midhusbandry in his case? With this she ran out of the room, leaving Leila alone while she hunted for a suitable abolitionist with a particular set of skills.
Old John Brown and Harriet Tubman were back in the estate's office, planning plans of future abolition and having theological debates as to the nature of the universe that they had found themselves in. By now, they had come to an agreement that the Lord had most likely created realms other than Earth, and that they were just in one of many realms that was found in the grand painting that was Creation.
They hadn't, however, come to full agreement as to their future plan for action. Brown was adamant on being bold, and continuing to take offensive actions like the capturing of the copper mine that they were currently occupying. Tubman, on the other hand, wanted to go in a more covert manner until they were a whole lot more powerful as an organization.
Their talks had come to a gridlock, so there was currently silence. Brown intended to break it, so he found something to change the topic. "General Tubman, w-"
"Old man! General!" Ayomide crushed Brown's dream of conversation when she crashed into the room. "I need you to make a child!"
…
"Excuse me?!" The two abolitionists were unsure as to how to reply to such a request.
"I mean-" Ayomide's tongue had slipped and fallen into a cliff out of panic. She was still panting from having to metaphorically fly up the stairs, and her brain was still lacking sufficient oxygen. "I need you to deliver a child! The captive's giving birth!"
"Oh! You mean something like that, young lady." Brown was happy that he was not being requested to copulate so suddenly. He was still, technically, a married man for God's sake! "I'm afraid that I lack experience in the field of midwifery." Back in his time, midwifery was definitely a woman's job, and Brown hadn't studied deeply into it. He looked toward Tubman for help.
"I'm afraid I ain't got the experience either." Tubman shook her head. "I haven't given birth to any children of my own. Kyauta hasn't either." Being an Underground Railway operator was, just like being an abolitionist catgirl wizard, a completely different field from midwifery.
"Great…" Most of the people in the estate were miners, who definitely didn't participate in midwifery. Shinasi was an adventurer / professional winesop, Hakim was a cook, and Tater was a kid. Why did this woman have to give birth right now?! "Alright, what do we do now?"
Brown had a brilliant plan. "We pray to the Lord and…" He got up from his seat. "…do our best not to mess up."
This plan didn't seem too satisfactory to Ayomide, but she didn't have a better plan either. I think that the Lord has abandoned us at this point… "Then…"
"Let's be quick!" Tubman had a better plan. "Come on, that baby ain't delivering itself!" She hurried out the door to Leila's room. Brown and Ayomide followed her in her swiftness. Brown paused in front of the door, causing Ayomide to pause as well. "You aren't going in, old man?"
"Lord forbid, I'm not going to be staring at a woman while she gives birth." That'd be a tad bit too sinful considering that involved seeing parts that shouldn't be seen by a gentleman. "Call me if you need anything delivered to the room."
"Alright…" You do what you wanna do, old man. With this, Tubman and Ayomide went into the room while Brown leaned on the wall, praying most fervently for a safe birth. Leila was technically their captive, the widow of a whose thoughts were most likely much less than savory, but a good Christian like Brown would not hesitate to bless those who reviled him.
While leaning on the wall, Brown could easily overhear the commotion coming from inside the room. "General, we should probably let her lay do-" Crash! "Crap! That wasn't too expensive, was it?"
"Miss Ayomide, now is not the time to worry about that!" Tubman admonished Ayomide, and sounds of broken shards crunching under their shoes could be heard. "The baby comes out of here, just pull up her dress so the way's clear."
"This feels way too creepy… Wait, is that the baby's head?!" Ayomide screamed out of shock. "Ah! The hell is this?!" This only served to stress Leila further, who was still wailing in pain.
"Don't be needlessly uncouth, Miss Ayomide!" Saying 'hell' was definitely not acceptable, even in such a stressful situation. "It's moving down… Alright, push!"
"Wow, it looks ugly." She sounded genuinely surprised. "I thought that babies were supposed to be cuter, and not covered in slime."
"Miss! Stop being rude toward other people's children and help me get this baby out!" It seemed that Tubman was slowly running out of patience.
"I can't move it further! There's a hose of flesh stuck to its tummy." Ayomide was further creeped out by the baby, but she didn't dare make any further disparaging comments lest she incur the wrath of Tubman.
"I think we have to cut that one." Tubman popped her head through the door to meet old Brown. "Knife." She extended an empty hand, which was quickly filled by Brown's trusty knife courtesy of Watanabe Generico (remember him?). Tubman popped back in as quickly as she had popped out.
"Wait, we're just going to cut- Just like that?!" Ayomide wasn't exactly used to seeing impromptu incisions to human flesh. Spawning new humans was a whole lot messier than she had initially thought. "And… That's a whole sac of flesh that just came out of her. Holy…"
"That's called 'placenta', if I remember correctly. The baby's bit quiet-" Tubman's thoughts were interrupted by the newborn crying so loudly that everyone in the room (and even Brown outside the room) thought that their eardrums would rupture to a thousand pieces. "Alright, it… he's alive. Brown, you can come in!"
Brown came in to the room, to see that the once elegant bedroom had turned into a huge mess. There were the shards of a broken vase on the floor, a wet carpet thanks to said broken vase, along with other bits and bobs knocked and moved during the chaos. Ayomide was sitting on the couch, looking up to the ceiling in a manner that suggested she was most exhausted. She wasn't expecting so much action today. Tubman was looking around for some sort of towel to clean her hands of fluids that needn't be mentioned in further detail, and the newborn infant was seated on Leila's chest.
"Thank the Lord, it seems that you are all fine." Brown's comment gained a sarcastic glare from Ayomide.
"Yes, I'm very fine as you can see." Ayomide had only one question left in her mind after witnessing the wonders of childbirth: Why the hell do people willingly have children?! She was glad to be the one peacefully sitting on the sofa, not having to worry about doing whatever had just happened in front of her. "Huh, what's this?" There was a letter that had been left on the armrest. "Oh, it's the letter that the butler just gave."
"Stop…" Leila tried to rise up to meet Ayomide, before she remembered there was an entire baby currently occupying her. "…Or… It doesn't matter if you read it. It's not like I can do anything to save myself." She seemed somber all of a sudden, for a good reason. "We're all dead men here."
"Huh?!" Leila got the same reaction out of everyone else in the room. Ayomide rushed to open the letter. Confronting the letter's letters, she remembered the fact that she was illiterate. "Old man, could you?"
Brown snatched the letter from Ayomide. He began reading its contents out loud. "Dear sister, I hope that you are doing your best despite these troubling times. May the Divine give you patience, and…" Its contents, on the front page, were mostly intrafamilial fluff. However, when Brown turned the paper over, he saw another thing.
Instead of letters written in ink like usual, there were letters written in something that had burnt down. The paper smelled vaguely like citrus, oranges to be exact, which revealed the nature of this simple invisible ink that had been made visible. The writing on the page with invisible ink was a whole lot cruder as the sender wasn't able to clearly see their writing during the process.
All of this work preparing invisible ink had actually gone to waste, as Ayomide hadn't inspected the contents of the letter in the first place. Sir Baha had simultaneously underestimated and overestimated the freemen on that front. Brown was a bit angry that they hadn't managed to catch something as simple as invisible ink made from orange juice.
Dear sister. I regret to infourn inform you that the count has decided to not wait for you to be released. He'll be caming coming with his army soon.
Maymurcey mercy be granted to our souls.
May
"That's way earlier than I thought. Huh." Brown took a good look around the room. Ayomide's face looked like she was done with life, so did the face of Leila, while Tubman retained her slight scowl as usual. Unlike them however, Brown didn't seem to affected.
"Old man, aren't you supposed to be panicking right now?! I've only had a couple days to drill those thirty or so slaves, and there's only a little trench to hold back whatever that count throws at us!" Ayomide was righteously freaking out a bit over the prospect of being attacked by a proper army.
Brown continued as calmly as he had done before. "That just means that we're just going to have to advance our plan in a quicker pace." He threw the letter back on to the armrest. "It's a shame that we're not getting the full ransom, but we'll have to content ourselves with what Providence has deemed suitable for us. The Lord eventually rewards the righteous, one way or another; keep this in mind young lady."
"…and he's currently rewarding us with certain death?" This Lord didn't exactly seem to be of the consistent sort. "We can't win against the forces of a count!"
Brown revealed a slight smirk, committing the sin of pride. "We can and, God willing, we will."
And Ayomide revealed a raised brow. "…how are we going to face such a force?"
Brown's answer was suitably laconic:
"We aren't."
Oh boy, I sure am excited to see some guerilla action.
"It's time for Plan S."
"Plan S... What does the S stand for?"
"Skedaddle. Grab all the loot and let's get the heck out of here!"
"Plan S... What does the S stand for?"
"Skedaddle. Grab all the loot and let's get the heck out of here!"
Wait, I thought it was "till death do us part". You kicked the bucket you're free to play the field, old man.
Chapter XXXI – Be swift, my soul, to answer him!
CabbagePreacher
Grand Preacher of All Brassicans
- Location
- Brasscirom, Cabbagelandetia
- Pronouns
- Anything
I love how people decided to focus on Brown's marital status lol
9th of Summer, 5859
Casamonu, Empire of Gemeinplatz
Count Leon had done it. He had, with diplomacy of upmost adroitness, gathered a force without much financial strain.
Favors, politicking, a whole lot of letters and some threats later, a force consisting of a hundred men had gathered in his castle's garden. This "army" definitely wasn't big, but the count didn't need anything big to take care of a few errant slaves hiding in the mountain. It consisted of indebted adventurers, retinues of close noble houses, and donated troops from those wishing to gain the favor of the count.
The count rode atop his horse, inspecting his little army with pride. Of course, he himself would also be participating in the battle… as a commander staying in the backline. Getting his own hands dirty wasn't in line with how Leon operated, nor was he an experienced military commander. He had delegated command to those who had brought the forces, which was more than good enough for a force that was meant to beat down a few lightly armed slaves.
How he operated did include speeches though. "Men! You are doing a great service to the county today." Leon's horse moved to-and-fro to make sure that everybody could hear at least a little bit of his speech. "Those savages up in the mountains have been terrorizing this land for a while now, terrorizing our spouses and children. Today we shall say 'No more!' as we drive these uppity darkskins off of Curry and into an otherworld!" The count raised his sword, and pointed it toward Mount Curry.
His speech hadn't exactly motivated the men too much. None of them were all too motivated from vague notions of "protecting the realm" and "uppity darkskins". What motivated them was whatever reward laid ahead after their job was done: fame, reputation, and most importantly, sweet dosh.
"Now, as you may all know, the former owner of the mine we're about to head off to has been brutally murdered by the fugitives." Leon wasn't done with his speech, however. He continued to ride around while keeping his sword pointed towards the mountain. "Whoever, at the end of the battle, brings me the most heads of these fugitives dead or alive shall receive this land and the honor of knighthood!"
This promise was a whole lot more motivating. The men's reluctance turned into enthusiasm at the prospect of nobility and owning a mine for themselves. "Your Excellency! What about the slaves we capture?" This question came from an old adventurer in the audience.
"You can do whatever you'd like to your captives. Own them, sell them, kill them…" Leon had truly gotten the attention of the crowd now. They seemed pretty excited to get to looting the human chattel of the abandoned estate. "Let me remind you that we won't get to do that if we don't march." This prompted a few laughs from the crowd. Leon led his horse towards the gate of his castle. "Forward, march!"
With his command, the disorganized mess of men organized themselves into a loosely column-shaped line of men; it was impossible to march in formation effectively without training, nor was professional military training a common occurrence in Gemeinplatz. They didn't need fancy formations for what they were about to do anyways. A hundred armed men could defeat whatever measly force had taken control of the mine.
They knew not what, or who, they were facing…
9th of Summer, 5859
Mount Curry, Casamonu
It was a foggy and rainy day as usual in Mount Curry, and marching through it was quite a bother. This was especially true if one was marching with a hundred people in tow.
Just one person pausing due to the mud meant that everyone behind them had to stop while they got their precious boots unstuck. The mountain road was quite narrow, meaning that nobody could reroute when anyone in front of them had to pause. Reduced visibility in the fog meant that there were quite a few false alarms: a few errant farmers and miners had almost been murdered on the spot by paranoid adventurers. Thankfully, the count's army had managed to keep the number of civilian casualties to a somewhat acceptable 2, the casualties being a goatherd and his dog. The men quickly buried the bodies before anyone had time to have any bothersome qualms about what they had done, to get them out their sight and out their mind.
The march was quite slow thanks to these problems, and the small army had barely made it halfway toward their goal by the time the day ended. As the sun went down so did their enthusiasm to march any further. Camp was set up on the road, for they had failed to find a plateau to settle down for the night. The night began, with the men flanked by darkness and mountains.
"Shakira, come here. I think I've finally found a spot." Among the ones in camp was a familiar figure, that of Shakir and his adventuring companion. He had been looking for somewhere safe and reasonable to settle for the rainy night, and he had found a spot under a few trees that seemed to have stayed dry.
"Coming!" Shakira ran toward the spot, still carrying her ridiculously large sword. Everyone who she ran across turned their heads to gaze at the sword, wondering how the hell she had carried it all the way. Most of them concluded that it must be some sort of magic metal that was lightweight, like mithril, but this was false. Shakira was indeed carrying a weapon made out of run-of-the-mill steel. She was able to carry it thanks to fantasy logic that'd take way too long to exposit.
The adventuring pair sat touched grass as they sat down to take a breather. Shakir and Shakira put down all their worldly possessions that they had been carrying. "Damn that Shinasi. He'd at least help us carry all this." Shakir grumbled while his old legs wept tears of joy from all the weight that had been lifted off of them.
"If he hadn't disappeared." added Shakira. They still hadn't figured out where that man had gone off to. It was most likely to escape some grave debt he had accumulated while under influence of foreign chemicals (a.k.a. alcohol). On the topic of debt, the financial situation of Shakir and Shakira had worsened considerably since they had lost their one and only tank.
The pair stayed like this for a while, voicing a few complaints here and there while they waited for sleep to finally take them. It didn't take long, however, for visitors to show up. Shakir saw a small group, of what looked to be a petty nobleman and his retinue, show up to construct a tent next to them.
The servant of this nobleman approached the adventurers. "Could you please move to somewhere else?" It seems that the petty noble had eyes on their place of rest. There wasn't much that Shakir and Shakira could do, so they got up to find somewhere else.
"Wait a second, Ted." The nobleman leading the group stopped his servant. "We should have enough room in the tent. Let them stay with us for the night."
"Yes sir." Ted immediately changed his tone to be a whole lot less dismissive of the adventurers. "Help us set up the tent, if you could." He handed Shakir(a) a couple of stakes to be staked down.
"Thank you, sir, for your generosity." The pair bowed down to their overlord in a sense of slight genuine gratitude. A large tent was quickly set up with their help, and they all got inside to breathe a sigh of relief. Not being under the rain felt great.
What felt a whole lot greater was the drinks brought out by Ted, who handed everyone a cup filled with suitably high-class wine. Cups clanged together as everyone in the tent cheered.
"Thank you again sir, for letting us stay dry tonight." Shakir retracted his cup and took a sip. He was a understandably nervous; someone like him didn't get to frequently dine with the upper class. "I'm Shakir, and she is Shakira. It'd be a pleasure to know the name of the one keeping us dry."
"I am Sir Baha Earlywatch, loyal knight of His Excellency." This nobleman was truly petty, only having a knighthood and a meagre amount of land and wealth.
Shakira paused upon hearing their host's name. "Earlywatch? Wasn't your sister, Lady Leila, married to the mine's owner?" Leila's predicament was pretty well known thanks to Leon having revealed it to everyone in his court.
Baha didn't answer, showing that he didn't wish to discuss this matter further. He sufficed by staring emptily towards particularly nothing. The petty noble did actually have a lot of things to say, but most of his thoughts would amount to treason against the count. Unlike Algernon, Baha still had a head that he had to keep attached to his shoulders.
Shakir noticed the awkward environment. He coughed in an attempt to cut the silence. "Let's not speak about distasteful topics like that, Shakira."
"Right! Right." Shakira shook herself upon noticing the faux pas she had just committed. "Sorry about that, sir." She prayed that she hadn't offended the nobleman in front of her, and he eyes drifted toward the ground to avoid the noble stare of Baha.
"You are excused." Baha was a petty noble only in the material sense of the word "petty". He didn't intend to lash out on some rude adventurers. That wouldn't help out his situation by much. "Your… our job is to clear fugitives. That's it. You needn't ponder too much." Baha himself had only participated in hopes of winning a crumb of favor from the count, perhaps convincing him to hand over the estate to a member of the Earlywatch family. He didn't actually intend to join the fight when he arrived at the estate.
"Yes, glorious battle! As glorious as a battle against a bunch of darkskins can be, anyways." Shakir laughed at his own joke as he gulped down the wine. "You know, we've only gone to battle against monsters in the mountains. I guess we can consider this as a dungeon raid, considering there's little difference between a monster and a darkskin." This time Shakira and Ted joined in laughing at this cheap joke. Baha found less humor in it; he had a teeny tiny issue with making jokes about a place that probably contained his sister's corpse at this very moment.
"Ah! By the way, by the way…" Ted had decided to get a speaking role in this chapter. Being tipsy did wonders to his sociability. "…you know, there's some pretty good loot to be found in that place. I'm speaking as a fellow adventurer here, albeit a former one."
"Oh? What kind?" Shakira got a whole lot livelier at the mention of loot. She leaned a bit closer towards Ted to hear him more clearly.
"I'm talking about the darkskins, you know." Ted had gotten a chance to take a much closer look at the residents thanks to having been the one to attempt negotiating. He leaned back while reminiscing of the freemen he had seen. "Most of them are miners, the strong muscular kind. I've seen those sell for a lot on the market, laborers are always in demand."
Shakir nodded along. "I've seen them sell for a lot as well. He made plans to use a bit of magic to knock some slaves unconscious for capturing. Perhaps I should bring along some rope…
Two remarkable figures among the slaves suddenly jumped into Ted's head. He leaned forward, to better address his interested audience. "And, and, there was also a slave that looked like a lightskin among them." Slaves with lighter skin weren't an impossibility, there was often intermingling (to put it politely) that resulted in mixed children. "Those go for a lot of money, you know. Along with him, there was also a female demihuman, of the catgirl kind, among the slaves. I believe she'd also amount to a nice sum of money, if you don't intend on keeping her yourself." Ted sent a wink toward Shakir while saying the last part.
"Mm? A catgirl in the mines?" Shakir's brow trended upwards. "I haven't seen their kind be used often for manual labor." He quickly realized what this implied but kept quiet. Noblemen keeping enslaved mistresses, even whole personal harems, was an openly known secret; implying that the cousin of the count did just that wasn't a thing that Shakir was about to do. Still, a catgirl didn't sound too bad. "Maybe I'll-"
Suddenly, a javelin tore through the tent's roof and skewered Shakir's head. His entire body went limp. A cup of wine rolled on the floor, ruining the tent's flooring, not to mention the blood and other brain matter that had found itself on the wrong side of Shakir's skull.
Everyone in the tent screamed in unison upon seeing a man dying in front of them. They weren't alone in screaming, for they were joined by other men from outside the tent.
Hell had suddenly broken loose.
9th of Summer, 5859
Casamonu, Empire of Gemeinplatz
Count Leon had done it. He had, with diplomacy of upmost adroitness, gathered a force without much financial strain.
Favors, politicking, a whole lot of letters and some threats later, a force consisting of a hundred men had gathered in his castle's garden. This "army" definitely wasn't big, but the count didn't need anything big to take care of a few errant slaves hiding in the mountain. It consisted of indebted adventurers, retinues of close noble houses, and donated troops from those wishing to gain the favor of the count.
The count rode atop his horse, inspecting his little army with pride. Of course, he himself would also be participating in the battle… as a commander staying in the backline. Getting his own hands dirty wasn't in line with how Leon operated, nor was he an experienced military commander. He had delegated command to those who had brought the forces, which was more than good enough for a force that was meant to beat down a few lightly armed slaves.
How he operated did include speeches though. "Men! You are doing a great service to the county today." Leon's horse moved to-and-fro to make sure that everybody could hear at least a little bit of his speech. "Those savages up in the mountains have been terrorizing this land for a while now, terrorizing our spouses and children. Today we shall say 'No more!' as we drive these uppity darkskins off of Curry and into an otherworld!" The count raised his sword, and pointed it toward Mount Curry.
His speech hadn't exactly motivated the men too much. None of them were all too motivated from vague notions of "protecting the realm" and "uppity darkskins". What motivated them was whatever reward laid ahead after their job was done: fame, reputation, and most importantly, sweet dosh.
"Now, as you may all know, the former owner of the mine we're about to head off to has been brutally murdered by the fugitives." Leon wasn't done with his speech, however. He continued to ride around while keeping his sword pointed towards the mountain. "Whoever, at the end of the battle, brings me the most heads of these fugitives dead or alive shall receive this land and the honor of knighthood!"
This promise was a whole lot more motivating. The men's reluctance turned into enthusiasm at the prospect of nobility and owning a mine for themselves. "Your Excellency! What about the slaves we capture?" This question came from an old adventurer in the audience.
"You can do whatever you'd like to your captives. Own them, sell them, kill them…" Leon had truly gotten the attention of the crowd now. They seemed pretty excited to get to looting the human chattel of the abandoned estate. "Let me remind you that we won't get to do that if we don't march." This prompted a few laughs from the crowd. Leon led his horse towards the gate of his castle. "Forward, march!"
With his command, the disorganized mess of men organized themselves into a loosely column-shaped line of men; it was impossible to march in formation effectively without training, nor was professional military training a common occurrence in Gemeinplatz. They didn't need fancy formations for what they were about to do anyways. A hundred armed men could defeat whatever measly force had taken control of the mine.
They knew not what, or who, they were facing…
9th of Summer, 5859
Mount Curry, Casamonu
It was a foggy and rainy day as usual in Mount Curry, and marching through it was quite a bother. This was especially true if one was marching with a hundred people in tow.
Just one person pausing due to the mud meant that everyone behind them had to stop while they got their precious boots unstuck. The mountain road was quite narrow, meaning that nobody could reroute when anyone in front of them had to pause. Reduced visibility in the fog meant that there were quite a few false alarms: a few errant farmers and miners had almost been murdered on the spot by paranoid adventurers. Thankfully, the count's army had managed to keep the number of civilian casualties to a somewhat acceptable 2, the casualties being a goatherd and his dog. The men quickly buried the bodies before anyone had time to have any bothersome qualms about what they had done, to get them out their sight and out their mind.
The march was quite slow thanks to these problems, and the small army had barely made it halfway toward their goal by the time the day ended. As the sun went down so did their enthusiasm to march any further. Camp was set up on the road, for they had failed to find a plateau to settle down for the night. The night began, with the men flanked by darkness and mountains.
"Shakira, come here. I think I've finally found a spot." Among the ones in camp was a familiar figure, that of Shakir and his adventuring companion. He had been looking for somewhere safe and reasonable to settle for the rainy night, and he had found a spot under a few trees that seemed to have stayed dry.
"Coming!" Shakira ran toward the spot, still carrying her ridiculously large sword. Everyone who she ran across turned their heads to gaze at the sword, wondering how the hell she had carried it all the way. Most of them concluded that it must be some sort of magic metal that was lightweight, like mithril, but this was false. Shakira was indeed carrying a weapon made out of run-of-the-mill steel. She was able to carry it thanks to fantasy logic that'd take way too long to exposit.
The adventuring pair sat touched grass as they sat down to take a breather. Shakir and Shakira put down all their worldly possessions that they had been carrying. "Damn that Shinasi. He'd at least help us carry all this." Shakir grumbled while his old legs wept tears of joy from all the weight that had been lifted off of them.
"If he hadn't disappeared." added Shakira. They still hadn't figured out where that man had gone off to. It was most likely to escape some grave debt he had accumulated while under influence of foreign chemicals (a.k.a. alcohol). On the topic of debt, the financial situation of Shakir and Shakira had worsened considerably since they had lost their one and only tank.
The pair stayed like this for a while, voicing a few complaints here and there while they waited for sleep to finally take them. It didn't take long, however, for visitors to show up. Shakir saw a small group, of what looked to be a petty nobleman and his retinue, show up to construct a tent next to them.
The servant of this nobleman approached the adventurers. "Could you please move to somewhere else?" It seems that the petty noble had eyes on their place of rest. There wasn't much that Shakir and Shakira could do, so they got up to find somewhere else.
"Wait a second, Ted." The nobleman leading the group stopped his servant. "We should have enough room in the tent. Let them stay with us for the night."
"Yes sir." Ted immediately changed his tone to be a whole lot less dismissive of the adventurers. "Help us set up the tent, if you could." He handed Shakir(a) a couple of stakes to be staked down.
"Thank you, sir, for your generosity." The pair bowed down to their overlord in a sense of slight genuine gratitude. A large tent was quickly set up with their help, and they all got inside to breathe a sigh of relief. Not being under the rain felt great.
What felt a whole lot greater was the drinks brought out by Ted, who handed everyone a cup filled with suitably high-class wine. Cups clanged together as everyone in the tent cheered.
"Thank you again sir, for letting us stay dry tonight." Shakir retracted his cup and took a sip. He was a understandably nervous; someone like him didn't get to frequently dine with the upper class. "I'm Shakir, and she is Shakira. It'd be a pleasure to know the name of the one keeping us dry."
"I am Sir Baha Earlywatch, loyal knight of His Excellency." This nobleman was truly petty, only having a knighthood and a meagre amount of land and wealth.
Shakira paused upon hearing their host's name. "Earlywatch? Wasn't your sister, Lady Leila, married to the mine's owner?" Leila's predicament was pretty well known thanks to Leon having revealed it to everyone in his court.
Baha didn't answer, showing that he didn't wish to discuss this matter further. He sufficed by staring emptily towards particularly nothing. The petty noble did actually have a lot of things to say, but most of his thoughts would amount to treason against the count. Unlike Algernon, Baha still had a head that he had to keep attached to his shoulders.
Shakir noticed the awkward environment. He coughed in an attempt to cut the silence. "Let's not speak about distasteful topics like that, Shakira."
"Right! Right." Shakira shook herself upon noticing the faux pas she had just committed. "Sorry about that, sir." She prayed that she hadn't offended the nobleman in front of her, and he eyes drifted toward the ground to avoid the noble stare of Baha.
"You are excused." Baha was a petty noble only in the material sense of the word "petty". He didn't intend to lash out on some rude adventurers. That wouldn't help out his situation by much. "Your… our job is to clear fugitives. That's it. You needn't ponder too much." Baha himself had only participated in hopes of winning a crumb of favor from the count, perhaps convincing him to hand over the estate to a member of the Earlywatch family. He didn't actually intend to join the fight when he arrived at the estate.
"Yes, glorious battle! As glorious as a battle against a bunch of darkskins can be, anyways." Shakir laughed at his own joke as he gulped down the wine. "You know, we've only gone to battle against monsters in the mountains. I guess we can consider this as a dungeon raid, considering there's little difference between a monster and a darkskin." This time Shakira and Ted joined in laughing at this cheap joke. Baha found less humor in it; he had a teeny tiny issue with making jokes about a place that probably contained his sister's corpse at this very moment.
"Ah! By the way, by the way…" Ted had decided to get a speaking role in this chapter. Being tipsy did wonders to his sociability. "…you know, there's some pretty good loot to be found in that place. I'm speaking as a fellow adventurer here, albeit a former one."
"Oh? What kind?" Shakira got a whole lot livelier at the mention of loot. She leaned a bit closer towards Ted to hear him more clearly.
"I'm talking about the darkskins, you know." Ted had gotten a chance to take a much closer look at the residents thanks to having been the one to attempt negotiating. He leaned back while reminiscing of the freemen he had seen. "Most of them are miners, the strong muscular kind. I've seen those sell for a lot on the market, laborers are always in demand."
Shakir nodded along. "I've seen them sell for a lot as well. He made plans to use a bit of magic to knock some slaves unconscious for capturing. Perhaps I should bring along some rope…
Two remarkable figures among the slaves suddenly jumped into Ted's head. He leaned forward, to better address his interested audience. "And, and, there was also a slave that looked like a lightskin among them." Slaves with lighter skin weren't an impossibility, there was often intermingling (to put it politely) that resulted in mixed children. "Those go for a lot of money, you know. Along with him, there was also a female demihuman, of the catgirl kind, among the slaves. I believe she'd also amount to a nice sum of money, if you don't intend on keeping her yourself." Ted sent a wink toward Shakir while saying the last part.
"Mm? A catgirl in the mines?" Shakir's brow trended upwards. "I haven't seen their kind be used often for manual labor." He quickly realized what this implied but kept quiet. Noblemen keeping enslaved mistresses, even whole personal harems, was an openly known secret; implying that the cousin of the count did just that wasn't a thing that Shakir was about to do. Still, a catgirl didn't sound too bad. "Maybe I'll-"
Suddenly, a javelin tore through the tent's roof and skewered Shakir's head. His entire body went limp. A cup of wine rolled on the floor, ruining the tent's flooring, not to mention the blood and other brain matter that had found itself on the wrong side of Shakir's skull.
Everyone in the tent screamed in unison upon seeing a man dying in front of them. They weren't alone in screaming, for they were joined by other men from outside the tent.
Hell had suddenly broken loose.
Hmm, maybe Shakir will have a redemption arc-
Nice ambush!
...Ooor maybe not.
Nice ambush!
Mmmmh. I was thinking that a force kludged together from half a dozen piecemeal units and random mercenaries would run into issues working together, but I have to admit, I wasn't expecting them to bring to bear a completely disorganized mob.
- Pronouns
- They/Them/She/Her
One of the problems with racism is that if you're afflicted with it against your military opponents in particular, it can significantly impair your ability to effectively fight them.
Chapter XXXII – Be swift my spear, to impale them!
CabbagePreacher
Grand Preacher of All Brassicans
- Location
- Brasscirom, Cabbagelandetia
- Pronouns
- Anything
I've done my best to keep up with a two-chapter-a-week, but real life has made this impossible for me. I apologize for getting your hopes up, and I'll be going back to a one-chapter-a-week release schedule as was before.
Tonight was a beautiful night like any other. Scant rays of moonlight shimmered through the clouds, resulting in quite an enchanting scene if one were to stop and look around in the rain. Crickets chirped in a manner that stood between a chorus and straight up cacophony, somehow managing to be calming instead of annoying.
Under the moonlight was enslaved maid café waitress turned abolitionist catgirl wizard Ayomide, leading men into battle as they skewered their enemies from above. "Alright, ready? Fire!" Her shouts resonated throughout the mountains, though her voice was drowned out by the chaos below. Another slew of spears made their way down under their command, only adding to the death and destruction occurring below them.
Their enemy below couldn't see them, as Ayomide's group carried no sources of light. Even then, they stayed on a cliff that overlooked the section where the count's men had camped. There was only road leading from Casamonu to the top of Mount Curry, so finding them wasn't too hard.
What'd usually be hard would be leading a group of men in the dark. It was already hard to see under the moonlight for your average human, not to mention the lack of moon or light due to the congregation of never-ending rainclouds.
However, Ayomide was no human.
This was why she had been chosen to lead this ambush: cat(girl)s had the ability to see in the dark. Her group had slowly managed to find their way thanks to the guidance of their semi-feline captain.
Brown, of course, had also joined this ambush. He thought that it'd be quite rude to cozy himself up in the estate while the freemen were fighting. "I wish we had catgirls back in the United States!" he shouted while sending another spear down the cliff. "You would have helped me out a lot in Kansas." Having night vision was quite a significant advantage in warfare; one that'd not be realized on Earth until World War II (which Brown had no idea about). The cogs in old Brown's head had already began turning upon realizing that he had this sort of advantage, and he was capitalizing on this advantage right now.
The freemen didn't know how many they had felled, for all they knew all their shots had missed, but they didn't intend to face such a force anyways. This was mostly an attack to sow fear, cause confusion, and maybe rack up some casualties on the enemy side. It seemed to be working, judging from the sounds of screams, shouts, and small explosions coming from down below.
Suddenly, the dark night sky was lit up by a small ball of light flying up to the sky from the camp.
"They're casting flares!" Ayomide stated the obvious as she had to shield her eyes from the overwhelming light. Becoming visible under light would be quite bad for their prospects of survival. "Old man, we should retreat!" A few more balls of light joined the fray while she was trying to inform Brown.
Brown couldn't answer for a few seconds. He and everyone else had been stunned by the sudden lightshow. Something like this, Brown thought, could be used as a weapon in the future. Having invented the concept of a flashbang, Brown quickly reoriented himself back to the environment. "Indeed we should. Retreat!"
"Alright, just hold my hand people." The ambushing squad locked their hands together in a chain that eventually led back to Ayomide, who functioned as a living-and-breathing night vision equipment. This was how they had made their way to here without being lost, and this was also how they'd make their way back. "We ready?"
"I believe we're ready, young lady. With our Heavenly Father watching over us, let us skedaddle!"
"Is it over?" Count Leon reluctantly peeked out from under the shield of one of his retainers. The rain of spears, unlike the usual rain in Northern Gemeinplatz, seemed to have ceased completely.
However, the chaos in camp hadn't ceased.
Men were still running around, shooting arrows, bolts and magic towards the mountains flanking them in hopes of hitting their assailants. Leon wasn't too surprised: this was to be expected from an army he had gathered on the cheap. What surprised him was the boldness of the freemen in attacking a superior force. It seemed that those savages were not going to go down without a fight.
No matter the fighting spirit of the fugitives, Leon first had to restore order in his camp. "Hilmi! Are you alive?"
"Yes, sir!" Hilmi, Leon's servant and right-hand man, crawled from under another shield. "Do you need me to…" He nodded towards the entrance to the tent they were in, where one could see what was happening outside.
"Yes, I need you to calm the men down." Leon liked Hilmi, for he always knew what his liege wanted. "Also, try to get a preliminary count of the casualties."
"Right away, sir." Hilmi got up, dusted his clothes, and went outside. There he got on his stead, and rode around while shouting for men to calm the hell down in the name of their lord. The cacophony outside slowed down, and things seemed to go back to normal when Hilmi entered the tent once more. He presented his report based on the observations he had made while riding around. "There seem to be a few casualties, along with a whole lot more who were wounded during the chaos."
"As I expected." This report didn't contain anything that Leon couldn't have figured out by taking a peek outside. "Get some men to guard the high-up places." Setting up simple patrols hadn't crossed his mind before. The count wasn't exactly what one might call a "military genius". "We'll keep marching on as usual when dawn breaks." He then went back to bed without saying anything else.
"Understood, sir." Hilmi bowed down and left the tent to let the count have a good night's sleep.
The dawn broke once more, Mount Curry waking up as it has done so for an uncountable number of years. Seeing the light, the cicadas had gone quiet and the birds had once again revealed themselves to hunt them down.
Sunlight came a bit late to the valley where the count's men rested. The count's men found the corpses of their slain allies upon waking up, for they were too tired and afraid to collect bodies during the night. It was quite a gruesome sight, to see so many of the dead strewn around so casually.
Some shed a tear or two for their allies; many began working on getting the corpses collected and covered with sheets as to keep this sight out of mind. Around a dozen corpses were collected in half an hour and laid side-by-side while they were identified. Those close to the dead were tasked with carrying the corpses so that they could be given a proper funeral.
Shakira, instead of her ridiculously enormous sword, now carried the body of Shakir. His corpse was slumped over her shoulders, covered by tent cloth donated to her by Sir Baha for this purpose. They didn't have much in common other than their names, but it was still a harrowing thing to carry the stiff, cold body of another human being.
A similar emotion permeated throughout the camp. Yesterday's fleeting enthusiasm to plunder was replaced with the realization that anybody could die in the following battle, and for what purpose? Most of the men were not seasoned soldiers who were ready to face such questions.
Shoulders were slumped, heads looked down, the prospect of mortality faced. Brown hadn't faced them himself, but they had been made to face something slightly worse than old John Brown's wrath.
Still, the men needed to acquire money, please their liege(s) and go to battle. They began dismantling their camp and got ready to head out for the Algernon Estate.
"Hey, you Hangvuki bastards!" One group who was not packing up was the four cultivators sent by Long Dong. They surrounded the Korean mercenaries sent by Kim Seong-min, their leader looking so furious that the space between his brows could constitute yet another valley by itself. "You shot our comrade, didn't you?!" Next to him was a fellow sect member holding a body, whose white robes had been stained by blood centered around a bullet hole.
The most fancily dressed of the mercenaries, clearly their leader, looked at the sect leader before turning back to his own men to ask a question. "Jeo namjaga mwolaneun geojyo? Jung-gug-eoleul aneun bun-i issnayo?" All of his comrades shrugged; these Koreans didn't know nor understand the language that the cultivator was using. However, they could still see the corpse with an excess of lead inserted via the bullet hole, so the mercenaries understood that they had committed a minor case of friendly fire during the fighting and that the man in front of them was angry because of it.
"Young master Yun, I don't think these men understand us…" Yun's disciple bowed down while humbly correcting his master.
"Then I'll make them understand." Yun slowly walked towards the mercenary captain, intending to be as threatening as possible. The captain had no time to react as the young master grabbed him by the collar and raised him up. All of the mercenaries raised their rifles in reaction. All of the barrels pointed towards Yun.
"Mwo?!" The captain's legs frantically swung around as he tried to escape Yun's grasp. He had to save himself one way or another. "Balpohada!" So, he gave the order to fire.
At once the barrels of the M1s lit up, the bullets heading towards the young master. "Hmph. Is this what you mortals call an 'attack'?" Without letting go of the mercenary captain, Yun quickly jumped up to avoid the bullets. He met one of the incoming bullets with his feet, which he had made as hard as titanium through clever manipulation of qi, kicking the bullet like it was a football. The bullet kicked by him, violating several laws of logic and physics, was deflected towards the head of the captain. The other bullets went toward Yun's disciples, who easily dodged the projectiles.
All of the above happened in the blink of an eye. To outside observers, it looked as if the captain was shot by his own men. A few blades of grass were uprooted from the ground due to the quick movements of the young master and his disciples.
"Hmph. We're even." Yun kept holding on to the captain's newly deceased body while staring daggers at the remaining mercenaries. One could feel his killing intent as if it was a tangible object. "For now. You are like frog meat compared to the fine swans that are our men, being nowhere equal." With this he threw the dead captain as if he was a piece of garbage he had picked up from the street.
The mercenaries were shaken further, for they were already stirred from the attack yesterday, by the sudden death of their captain by what they thought to be their own hands. Their knees were weak, hands shaking like crazy, with cold sweat racing down their brows.
Yun and his disciples turned around, pretending nothing happened. Nobody who witnessed the scene dared speak out against the cultivators, leading the scene to become as quiet as a morgue.
Yun turned around one last time to meet the mercenaries directly eye-to-eye.
"I'd kill you all if not for the orders of Master Long Dong. Be glad that you'll be alive to face the Demon King with us."
Then he continued on his merry way, and so did the rest of the camp continue their way towards the Algernon Estate.
Tonight was a beautiful night like any other. Scant rays of moonlight shimmered through the clouds, resulting in quite an enchanting scene if one were to stop and look around in the rain. Crickets chirped in a manner that stood between a chorus and straight up cacophony, somehow managing to be calming instead of annoying.
Under the moonlight was enslaved maid café waitress turned abolitionist catgirl wizard Ayomide, leading men into battle as they skewered their enemies from above. "Alright, ready? Fire!" Her shouts resonated throughout the mountains, though her voice was drowned out by the chaos below. Another slew of spears made their way down under their command, only adding to the death and destruction occurring below them.
Their enemy below couldn't see them, as Ayomide's group carried no sources of light. Even then, they stayed on a cliff that overlooked the section where the count's men had camped. There was only road leading from Casamonu to the top of Mount Curry, so finding them wasn't too hard.
What'd usually be hard would be leading a group of men in the dark. It was already hard to see under the moonlight for your average human, not to mention the lack of moon or light due to the congregation of never-ending rainclouds.
However, Ayomide was no human.
This was why she had been chosen to lead this ambush: cat(girl)s had the ability to see in the dark. Her group had slowly managed to find their way thanks to the guidance of their semi-feline captain.
Brown, of course, had also joined this ambush. He thought that it'd be quite rude to cozy himself up in the estate while the freemen were fighting. "I wish we had catgirls back in the United States!" he shouted while sending another spear down the cliff. "You would have helped me out a lot in Kansas." Having night vision was quite a significant advantage in warfare; one that'd not be realized on Earth until World War II (which Brown had no idea about). The cogs in old Brown's head had already began turning upon realizing that he had this sort of advantage, and he was capitalizing on this advantage right now.
The freemen didn't know how many they had felled, for all they knew all their shots had missed, but they didn't intend to face such a force anyways. This was mostly an attack to sow fear, cause confusion, and maybe rack up some casualties on the enemy side. It seemed to be working, judging from the sounds of screams, shouts, and small explosions coming from down below.
Suddenly, the dark night sky was lit up by a small ball of light flying up to the sky from the camp.
"They're casting flares!" Ayomide stated the obvious as she had to shield her eyes from the overwhelming light. Becoming visible under light would be quite bad for their prospects of survival. "Old man, we should retreat!" A few more balls of light joined the fray while she was trying to inform Brown.
Brown couldn't answer for a few seconds. He and everyone else had been stunned by the sudden lightshow. Something like this, Brown thought, could be used as a weapon in the future. Having invented the concept of a flashbang, Brown quickly reoriented himself back to the environment. "Indeed we should. Retreat!"
"Alright, just hold my hand people." The ambushing squad locked their hands together in a chain that eventually led back to Ayomide, who functioned as a living-and-breathing night vision equipment. This was how they had made their way to here without being lost, and this was also how they'd make their way back. "We ready?"
"I believe we're ready, young lady. With our Heavenly Father watching over us, let us skedaddle!"
"Is it over?" Count Leon reluctantly peeked out from under the shield of one of his retainers. The rain of spears, unlike the usual rain in Northern Gemeinplatz, seemed to have ceased completely.
However, the chaos in camp hadn't ceased.
Men were still running around, shooting arrows, bolts and magic towards the mountains flanking them in hopes of hitting their assailants. Leon wasn't too surprised: this was to be expected from an army he had gathered on the cheap. What surprised him was the boldness of the freemen in attacking a superior force. It seemed that those savages were not going to go down without a fight.
No matter the fighting spirit of the fugitives, Leon first had to restore order in his camp. "Hilmi! Are you alive?"
"Yes, sir!" Hilmi, Leon's servant and right-hand man, crawled from under another shield. "Do you need me to…" He nodded towards the entrance to the tent they were in, where one could see what was happening outside.
"Yes, I need you to calm the men down." Leon liked Hilmi, for he always knew what his liege wanted. "Also, try to get a preliminary count of the casualties."
"Right away, sir." Hilmi got up, dusted his clothes, and went outside. There he got on his stead, and rode around while shouting for men to calm the hell down in the name of their lord. The cacophony outside slowed down, and things seemed to go back to normal when Hilmi entered the tent once more. He presented his report based on the observations he had made while riding around. "There seem to be a few casualties, along with a whole lot more who were wounded during the chaos."
"As I expected." This report didn't contain anything that Leon couldn't have figured out by taking a peek outside. "Get some men to guard the high-up places." Setting up simple patrols hadn't crossed his mind before. The count wasn't exactly what one might call a "military genius". "We'll keep marching on as usual when dawn breaks." He then went back to bed without saying anything else.
"Understood, sir." Hilmi bowed down and left the tent to let the count have a good night's sleep.
The dawn broke once more, Mount Curry waking up as it has done so for an uncountable number of years. Seeing the light, the cicadas had gone quiet and the birds had once again revealed themselves to hunt them down.
Sunlight came a bit late to the valley where the count's men rested. The count's men found the corpses of their slain allies upon waking up, for they were too tired and afraid to collect bodies during the night. It was quite a gruesome sight, to see so many of the dead strewn around so casually.
Some shed a tear or two for their allies; many began working on getting the corpses collected and covered with sheets as to keep this sight out of mind. Around a dozen corpses were collected in half an hour and laid side-by-side while they were identified. Those close to the dead were tasked with carrying the corpses so that they could be given a proper funeral.
Shakira, instead of her ridiculously enormous sword, now carried the body of Shakir. His corpse was slumped over her shoulders, covered by tent cloth donated to her by Sir Baha for this purpose. They didn't have much in common other than their names, but it was still a harrowing thing to carry the stiff, cold body of another human being.
A similar emotion permeated throughout the camp. Yesterday's fleeting enthusiasm to plunder was replaced with the realization that anybody could die in the following battle, and for what purpose? Most of the men were not seasoned soldiers who were ready to face such questions.
Shoulders were slumped, heads looked down, the prospect of mortality faced. Brown hadn't faced them himself, but they had been made to face something slightly worse than old John Brown's wrath.
Still, the men needed to acquire money, please their liege(s) and go to battle. They began dismantling their camp and got ready to head out for the Algernon Estate.
"Hey, you Hangvuki bastards!" One group who was not packing up was the four cultivators sent by Long Dong. They surrounded the Korean mercenaries sent by Kim Seong-min, their leader looking so furious that the space between his brows could constitute yet another valley by itself. "You shot our comrade, didn't you?!" Next to him was a fellow sect member holding a body, whose white robes had been stained by blood centered around a bullet hole.
The most fancily dressed of the mercenaries, clearly their leader, looked at the sect leader before turning back to his own men to ask a question. "Jeo namjaga mwolaneun geojyo? Jung-gug-eoleul aneun bun-i issnayo?" All of his comrades shrugged; these Koreans didn't know nor understand the language that the cultivator was using. However, they could still see the corpse with an excess of lead inserted via the bullet hole, so the mercenaries understood that they had committed a minor case of friendly fire during the fighting and that the man in front of them was angry because of it.
"Young master Yun, I don't think these men understand us…" Yun's disciple bowed down while humbly correcting his master.
"Then I'll make them understand." Yun slowly walked towards the mercenary captain, intending to be as threatening as possible. The captain had no time to react as the young master grabbed him by the collar and raised him up. All of the mercenaries raised their rifles in reaction. All of the barrels pointed towards Yun.
"Mwo?!" The captain's legs frantically swung around as he tried to escape Yun's grasp. He had to save himself one way or another. "Balpohada!" So, he gave the order to fire.
At once the barrels of the M1s lit up, the bullets heading towards the young master. "Hmph. Is this what you mortals call an 'attack'?" Without letting go of the mercenary captain, Yun quickly jumped up to avoid the bullets. He met one of the incoming bullets with his feet, which he had made as hard as titanium through clever manipulation of qi, kicking the bullet like it was a football. The bullet kicked by him, violating several laws of logic and physics, was deflected towards the head of the captain. The other bullets went toward Yun's disciples, who easily dodged the projectiles.
All of the above happened in the blink of an eye. To outside observers, it looked as if the captain was shot by his own men. A few blades of grass were uprooted from the ground due to the quick movements of the young master and his disciples.
"Hmph. We're even." Yun kept holding on to the captain's newly deceased body while staring daggers at the remaining mercenaries. One could feel his killing intent as if it was a tangible object. "For now. You are like frog meat compared to the fine swans that are our men, being nowhere equal." With this he threw the dead captain as if he was a piece of garbage he had picked up from the street.
The mercenaries were shaken further, for they were already stirred from the attack yesterday, by the sudden death of their captain by what they thought to be their own hands. Their knees were weak, hands shaking like crazy, with cold sweat racing down their brows.
Yun and his disciples turned around, pretending nothing happened. Nobody who witnessed the scene dared speak out against the cultivators, leading the scene to become as quiet as a morgue.
Yun turned around one last time to meet the mercenaries directly eye-to-eye.
"I'd kill you all if not for the orders of Master Long Dong. Be glad that you'll be alive to face the Demon King with us."
Then he continued on his merry way, and so did the rest of the camp continue their way towards the Algernon Estate.
- Pronouns
- They/Them/She/Her
So... those were some impressive moves by Yun and his disciples. And I find myself wondering just what it takes in this world to develop abilities like that. Because, well...
[looks at John Brown, his determination, hardworking and at least somewhat ascetic way of life, and strong religious beliefs]
It seems like it might be relevant.
...And, actually, thinking on that...
Why is Harriet Tubman here?
John Brown's here because the alien space bats misread the order and picked up the wrong Jo(h)n. But Harriet Tubman has a much less common name, unless I'm much mistaken. ...And what are the odds that, of all the wrong Jo(h)ns the ASBs could have picked up, they'd happen, by chance, to get this John Brown, into a world where Harriet Tubman had also already somehow arrived? Well, now I'm wondering why I didn't wonder about this more before.
Maybe the ASBs themselves here aren't free labor and are sneakily trying to change that?
[looks at John Brown, his determination, hardworking and at least somewhat ascetic way of life, and strong religious beliefs]
It seems like it might be relevant.
...And, actually, thinking on that...
Why is Harriet Tubman here?
John Brown's here because the alien space bats misread the order and picked up the wrong Jo(h)n. But Harriet Tubman has a much less common name, unless I'm much mistaken. ...And what are the odds that, of all the wrong Jo(h)ns the ASBs could have picked up, they'd happen, by chance, to get this John Brown, into a world where Harriet Tubman had also already somehow arrived? Well, now I'm wondering why I didn't wonder about this more before.
Maybe the ASBs themselves here aren't free labor and are sneakily trying to change that?
Heh, let me give it a try...
["Translation."]
Mercenary: "Weren't these guys supposed to be good at dodging?"
Chapter XXXIII – Be jubilant my feet, to surprise them!
CabbagePreacher
Grand Preacher of All Brassicans
- Location
- Brasscirom, Cabbagelandetia
- Pronouns
- Anything
Mud, rain, slight fog and a steep incline, marching had become a slog that had slowed down to a petrified snail's pace. Like a snail leaving behind a trail, the count's men also left behind a trail of footprints and tired men who gave up on continuing the journey. Attrition had set in so early that the sun was still rising when tiredness set in to the hearts of men.
What was supposed to be a simple operation to capture fugitives and loot an estate had become a muddy hell on not-Earth. This would have been bearable, especially with the prospect of loot, if not for the ambush yesterday leaving a scar on their spirits. The men were constantly looking up, trying to anticipate another unexpected rain of copper and fury. They had yet to face the enemy properly, as in none of them had seen the faces of their adversary, but there was the prospect of facing them any time. That prospect, of potential death even if their allies would achieve victory over the fugitives, was quite frightening to this force of people who weren't that used to warfare against other people.
Much to their surprise however, there were no more attacks on their way to the Algernon estate. The rest of the march of the count's army turned out to be a surprisingly peaceful one, and spirits slowly recovered as they inched closer to the estate in anticipation of the loot that surely awaited them at the end.
The only one who wasn't as excited was Sir Baha, who was probably the only person in the group who wasn't presently afflicted by concerns of the material kind. He rode on his horse, flanked by his small retinue, doing his best to follow the disorganized march of the count's army. Following him was Shakira and her ridiculously enormous sword, who had just kind of stuck around after having stayed in the same tent as him.
"Can you see the estate?" Shakira looked up at Baha, who could see higher ground thanks to being mounted.
"No, but I believe that we should see it soon." Baha quickened his pace slightly, prompting his retainers to do the same. Shakira's legs protested as she had to catch up on foot. The petty lord turned to address his retainers following him from behind. "We should make haste." He wanted to make sure that Leila's body wouldn't be looted or lost during the chaos; Baha wanted to give her a proper funeral at the least.
With their haste soon came the Algernon estate showing itself on top of yet another incline. Or, it was supposed to show itself. Baha had visited the place before so he knew where it was supposed to be, yet he couldn't see any of the estate's buildings from down where he was at. Hesitation struck him, and he quickly signaled his own men to stop. "Halt! There's something wrong going on here."
"Why'd we stop?" Shakira halted alongside. The rest of the count's men, however, didn't as they weren't beholden to the will of some petty lord. They got on top of the hill and, in a manner that wasn't too unexpected, some shrill screams were heard from the top.
Baha rushed forward on his horse without saying a word. His retainers stared at each other with a blank expression before they understood that they should probably follow their lord. Shakira, the poor soul she was without a horse, had to use her own legs to carry herself upwards. After a minute or two of arduous uphill running she saw what was wrong:
"Shit! Who built a ditch here?"
"Help get me out of this place!"
"How did you idiots not see that?"
There was a ditch built around the estate, one last surprise prepared specially for them by old John Brown, which one could easily fall into as it was obscured during the uphill climb. A few had managed to land themselves in the ditch, which had a surprise for them in the form of wooden stakes built under loosely packed dirt. Dropping down there didn't look like a pleasant experience; it wasn't a pleasant experience as those in the ditch could currently attest to.
The ditch itself might have been surprising, but it wasn't as surprising as something else that was on the hill. Or, more accurately, something that wasn't on the hill.
"…It's all burnt down." Sir Baha got off his high horse to take a closer look at what was left of the Algernon estate. For that matter, all that was left was blackened pieces of wood, carpentry, and perilous bits of glass. The fire had burnt so greatly that the earth under the former mansion had blackened like charcoal. There was nothing of value left, save the occasional bits of copper ore that had melted down thanks to the mansion itself acting as an expensive kiln during its final moments.
Slowly the adventurers and other men on foot made managed to climb the hill as well, and their disappointment was immeasurable. There was no loot, no slaves, nothing of value that'd make almost dying worth it.
They had only wasted their time by coming here; Count Leon had wasted his good graces and favor by making them come here to this dilapidated estate in a place so remote that even the Divine had most likely forgotten of its existence.
Worst of all, only for Sir Baha, there was no Leila to be found anywhere. Where did she lay among this field of ash and earth? Baha knew not. He frankly wasn't that excited to find out the state her corpse would be in. There somewhere laid his sister, who could have been saved if not for Count Leon having decided to rush in for the sake of surprising the fugitives. Baha bent his knees and touched the earth as well, doing his best not to cry in front of a live audience.
"Sir." Ted, Baha's most loyal servant, tapped on his lord's shoulders. "You're going to get dirt on your trousers."
"…" Baha got up. Nobility, even the pettiest ones like him, couldn't even have a proper emotional moment without having to care about decorum. He was instinctively about to reply with a 'sorry', before he also realized that lords usually didn't apologize to their servants. Sometimes, especially when times of financial difficulty and hardship hit, Baha wished he could just quit his job.
It looked like everyone else was similarly tired after this farce, for different reasons compared Baha, and the adventurers had already began setting up camp without any orders from the count.
Count Leon himself did his best to stay back and not show his face lest he incur the wrath of the lootless adventurers. This wasn't the time for a pompous speech. He was surprised, and frustrated, at how much his enemy had managed to damage them despite not properly facing them at all.
In all honesty, this was a dishonorable way to fight – but a man of honor against slavers Brown was not. Honor was reserved for those who were honorable in conduct to their fellow man; the wicked deserved to receive the wrath of the Lord delivered to them personally.
"…Baha! Brother!"
Baha looked around him. Was he hearing voices now? Perhaps his sister's soul still lingered on here.
"Mistress! Is that you?" Ted had managed to locate the source of the voice. Leila's soul was nowhere to be found; her body was still marching on, or barely marching on through the crowds of adventurers busy with setting up camp. She was flanked by her two children walking next to her and, on her arms, another one that Baha had yet to see until today.
"Sister!" Baha ran towards her, intending to hug her. He couldn't as her hands were currently preoccupied. The petty lord had to suffice with patting the children on the head. "I thought that… I thought that those savages would definitely murder you when we came here!"
Leila was smiling, thanks to the safe reunion, but the rest of her countenance was a grim one. Her hair had become messy, her dress was laden with dust, and the kids didn't look any better. A broken smile, one compromised of a world suddenly shattered by its sins and contradictions. "I… Their leader decided to spare me." She didn't look all that excited to be alive at this moment.
"Huh? Those savage darkskins spared you?" Baha wasn't sure what to make of that. He still wasn't sure that the woman in front of him was real. He had to recover from the absurdity of such a thing before he could reply further. "That's… great!"
"It is…" said Leila, silently adding an '…I guess' to the end of her sentence. She was a free woman at this point, a noble one at that, what did she realistically have to worry about? Baha couldn't get why his sister seemed to be in such a state.
"What's most important is that you are fine, mistress." added Ted, ever so faithful.
"Yeah, cheer up won't you?" further added Shakira, who had been awkwardly attending this family reunion. She had felt a tad bit too awkward when she was standing silently, hence her sudden interjection.
Leila didn't reply, but she did her best to at least not look sullen. She was a widow now, sure, but her brother had enough funds to take care of her family. Life was going to be fine. No hitches, no slave uprisings, no… None of that nonsense. The mistress would be back to her usual routine, of idle comfort and luxury, until the day she'd finally croak out of this world into another one.
This was the ideal life for a noble lady like her, for noble ladies and gents across Gemeinplatz. Raised on the shoulders of their slaves, and subjects, they could afford to stay high, mighty, and idle. That was how things were supposed to be. That's how they must be…
…right? The slaves, those abominable darkskins, working among themselves, that was just a fluke. Their weird rituals, of voting and consulting each other as equals, those were the workings of inferior minds. The lightskin had already found the perfect way, the most civilized way…
"Mistress? Are you fine?" Ted had already begun working on their tent with the help of Shakira. "You shouldn't stare at the sky so much. Looking at the sun is going to damage your eyes."
"Right. Thank you." Leila closed her eyes to let them rest. She was a well-read woman, but reading was just an activity to pass her idle time. The mistress didn't like to think too much. Thinking made her brain hurt, made her heart be in trouble with the harsh questions that this world presented to her, those were all things a proper lady shouldn't be worried about.
"Here, I have some tea for you, mistress." Ted had taken a break from the tent to get something for his mistress. He handed over a suitably fancy cup filled with even fancier tea.
Leila gracefully took the cup. The warm liquid flowing through her made Leila calm once more.
All would be fine. All was fine.
There were no wild abolitionists running around, making plans to emancipate the entirety of Gemeinplatz with righteous fury of the most hallow kind. No, totally. All was fine…
…right?
Chapter XXXIV – Be swift my hands, to construct them!
CabbagePreacher
Grand Preacher of All Brassicans
- Location
- Brasscirom, Cabbagelandetia
- Pronouns
- Anything
13th of Summer, 5859
Mount Curry, Casamonu / Azdavay
Clouds. Rain. Even more rain. A torrent of slaves. John Brown. They were all heading down, and down, slowly rolling over the mountains until they found a place to stop and rest. The clouds turned to rain, rain came down and turned into puddles, and slaves rescued themselves and turned into freemen.
Of course, the freemen weren't returning empty-handed. Brown had, in the day before the arrival of Count Leon's army, made sure that everything that wasn't bolted down would be taken back to the cave. It was odd to see so many freemen, in tatters and rags, carrying luxury furniture down to a spot below the cave; old John Brown could've switched careers, from abolitionist to shopkeeper, and opened a furniture store with all the stock that he had appropriated (some may call this action "stealing" and "a crime"; Brown would argue that the freemen were just taking back what they were owed with added interest from late payment by the late Sir Algernon).
By the end of this wild evacuation, there wasn't a soul left who wasn't tired. The plateau below the cave was filled with soft chairs, thick books, and tired freemen. Tired they were, free they also were. The air felt ever fresher, to the likes of Ekene and Ejike, whom now found themselves in a society not of masters and servants but one of equals. Where the whip cracked no further, inbred ingrates lived no longer, and one was free to loiter and prattle.
The big blue sky, even if it was mostly blocked by clouds, looked vast and nice, yet it also signaled a problem that they all soon would have: rain combined with a lack of shelter. Everything that the freemen had brought over had already been thoroughly drenched in a layer of rainwater.
"Gather around!" Brown clapped his hands to get the attention of the resting men. He added a forced cough to catch further attention. "Ahem!"
"What's with the commotion, old man?" Ayomide was among those who were resting, and she was now forced to get up. She was surprised by how an old man like Brown could still have such a loud voice. It was as if an occult hand had replaced his vocal cords with that of a lion.
"Young lady, cease your idleness and lend an ear, won't you?" admonished Brown "Idleness is the Devil's work and all that, I don't believe I have to make that point once more."
"Yes, you don't." This time the one replying was Shinasi. He himself had been busy carrying all the booze (and food) from the estate's cellar. "Because you make that point multiple times every day."
"Young man!" Brown bellowed in greater admonishment. "I wouldn't have to make that point if you weren't actively searching for more ways to be idle!" Everyone else seemed 'idle' to a man like John Brown. His puritanical work ethic was hard to catch up to for any sane person; the freemen definitely wouldn't be called 'idle' if you were to ask someone else other than old John Brown.
"Calm down, Mister Brown is speaking." Tubman ended their little spat with this sentence. "You're only being more idle with your arguments."
Brown nodded. "You're right, General Tubman." He took a deep breath. "There is a time and place for everything." By now everyone's attention had drifted, so Brown began with an "Ahem!" to get their attention once more. "We have managed to make a successful retreat from the estate, praise be to the Holy Spirit for guiding us through these turbulent times. I'd like to remind you, that we have not ended anything. No, this is only the beginning of the beginning, and we have only borrowed time until we'll eventually have to fight once more."
It was an inevitability that adventurers would soon descend upon these mountains like vultures. Bounties would be put up, rumors would spread, and every downtrodden git looking to make a quick buck would visit Mount Curry. There wasn't much difference between a monster and a fugitive.
"Which is why I propose we should be quick, quiet and efficient." Brown took hold of a chair, and raised it on to his shoulders. His old spine protested, but Brown was a protestant against this protest. "Come on now, we should get all of these off the low-ground. We'll make our refuge up in these mountains, away from prying eyes."
Seeing the old man begin working was quite effective, a whole lot more effective than his evangelism in fact. Everyone grabbed something or another, and they made their way up the cliff and into safety.
An entire day passed, the freemen busying themselves with evacuating their loot on to higher ground. Their haul was great: Sir Baha had paid his ransom with various tools as Brown had asked, and they were ready to begin construction on a level that was higher than the Stone Age.
"[Wind], [Wind], [Wind]…" Ayomide was tasked with drying wood, as there was no one else who had the ability to cast so much wind magic in a serial fashion. Her days of sitting in the corner of the slave quarter, doing her best to learn how to cast silently, came unexpectedly useful in the field of lumberjacking. "This one's dry. Tater! You can skip stones later, come here you little brat!"
On Ayomide's command Tater reluctantly rose up from the ground and took the dried log to the site where a house, if such a building could even be called that, was being erected under Brown's supervision. He was no stranger to construction, and he had personally surveyed suitable land on the mountains where temporary housing could be constructed. Their population had increased by two dozen or so, meaning that the cave was no more sufficient for housing.
The "housing" itself was quite simple: A few log posts buried to the ground, with even more logs for roofing, reinforced with mud, straw and slime. Brown had noticed how quickly slimes dried up and hardened, which was why making soap from them was possible, so he used it as coating to harden the mud of the houses against the constant rain. He planned on making houses out of brick later, though they'd have to first figure out a more efficient way of firing clay than "putting clay bricks in a covered hole and lighting the hole on fire".
For the purpose of finding better methods of firing, Baha and his former comrades from the Algernon estate's copper kilns had gotten to tinkering on that front while the others were busy on construction. They had seen and used kilns a plenty, the problem was that the kilns over at the Algernon estate were larger ones that were constructed out of proper bricks. It wasn't as easy to adapt such a design when all you had was mud, spit, slime, and no experience in engineering.
Construction in general was quite slow. The freemen were experiences in mining, which was, in a way, the opposite of constructing. Brown's plans for a more conic design, similar to the ones used by the Native Americans he had observed, failed as the men didn't have enough experience in construction to reliably construct such a shape without it falling apart. The rain didn't help either; construction with mud in a rainy climate wasn't among the greatest of ideas. By the end of the first day, they had managed to construct a half-finished square box.
"Woah, that looks…" Ayomide had come over to inform them that it was lunch time, but she was confronted with a building that looked like it was born as a ruin. "…quite… artistic?" She held her tongue, not wanting to break everyone's spirits.
"We aren't making art, young lady." Brown didn't look too disappointed. He turned to address the construction crew. "Don't be dispirited. We are all flawed sinners; it'd be weird if we were constructing masterpieces on the first day. The Lord rewards those who work hard, so let us work hard and be rewarded!"
The men didn't care much about what the Lord would reward them with, but they did agree that making anything good on the first day was impossible. It was quite odd, after their experience with Sir Algernon, to be led by someone with compassion and (despite what some might think of Brown) common sense.
"No matter what, you people are not going to be working on an empty stomach." Ayomide was too tired to be motivated. Chanting "[Wind]" countless times had exhausted her greatly. "Come on, Hakim's gotten something cooked up."
Nobody was going to object to eating food, so they all went back into the cave where a common area had already been established. The cave now looked quite posh and extravagant as it housed a gold-trimmed dining table with silver cutlery, elaborately carved chairs with silk cushioning, and the finest flatbread baked by master chef Hakim. Coming back to such an environment after busying oneself with mud felt quite odd, though it was a welcome change of pace.
Ayomide jumped onto a chair, groaning in utter ecstasy when she felt herself bury into silk. "My arse has never felt this comfortable…" commented she while closing her eyes.
"Young lady! What did I tell you about such vulgarity?!" Despite Brown's countless protests, he had been unable to curtail profanity within his camp. Especially words like 'damn' or 'hell', which meant a whole lot less to the heathens he was now living with. "Such words," he of course refused to repeat back what Ayomide had just said "are definitely not suitable for a young woman like you to mutter."
"You're not my father, old man." Ayomide gave her usual response.
"I'm thinking of adopting all of you just so you can stop using that excuse." replied Brown sarcastically. He sat down, having done his duty as a good Christian to warn his fellow men. The construction crew followed, entering in a disorderly line into the cave.
"You're not having dinner without me, are you?" Shinasi entered the room, having come late as he was busy watching over the periphery. He had not forgotten to bring something to drink for everyone: a small barrel of beer replaced the space in his hands that'd normally carry a shield.
Much to Shinasi's dismay, Brown had set aside the wine for use during Communion. He had a small Christian community now, with Tubman and Kyauta, and they made sure to gather every seventh day (for there was no such thing as a "Sunday" in Gemeinplatz). Brown, now that their situation was a whole lot less dire and in need of constant daily work to scrape by, had also began observing Sabbath once more as he had regularly did back in the United States where he'd worship all day without pause.
Shinasi set down the barrel, filling a cup for himself, before slowly making his way towards the seat next to Ayomide. He hesitated for a bit, before she patted the empty seat next to him and said "Come on, you were on your legs for the entire day. Why are you so hesitant?" Shinasi took this as an invitation, so he sat down next to her. This made him come face to face with John Brown, who was too busy joining Tubman and Kyauta in prayer to the Lord to notice anything. "Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name," etc. etc.
With everyone seated came Hakim and Tater, whose hands were full of flatbread and, thanks to the looted pantry of the estate, bowls filled with mashed potatoes. This was quite a plain meal, but it was quite the luxury compared to the scant gruel that they would usually receive as slaves. Spirits were quite high, and the table was filled with lively chatter.
From the despair of chains came the joys of freedom, and freedom was quite enjoyable indeed. Shinasi suddenly raised his cup and shouted. "To liberty!" He had only newly learned of this word, but he had taken quite a liking to it.
"To liberty!"
Countless clay cups clanged together in the far reaches of a mountain in Northern Gemeinplatz.
Chapter XXXV – Be swift my mouth, to order them!
CabbagePreacher
Grand Preacher of All Brassicans
- Location
- Brasscirom, Cabbagelandetia
- Pronouns
- Anything
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(The next chapters of the John Brown Isekai were brought to you by the fine folks over from my Patreon:
Brassican Preachers: Moon, Ryujin199, cuisinart8, DaFuk, Dalek2150, Joseph Dixon, Neine99, Mjkoo, why, John Brown, Dinomannick
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May their efforts to advance the righteous cause of the John Brown Isekai be never forgotten.)
"…you lost men?"
"Yes sir."
"To a bunch of barely equipped slaves?"
"Yes sir- No, actually, we lost the captain to the cultivators. So not all of us were killed by slaves."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
Kim Seong-Min really wanted to send his head crashing down to the desk from the second-hand embarrassment he felt. He sufficed by making his hand crash down on his face, damaging office equipment would only make his financial situation slightly worse, groaning loudly as he had to think about having to set aside more capital for the special anti-fugitive operation.
The mercenary in front of him looked at his boss nervously, looking to see what Kim would do. Kim didn't move a muscle, his palm firmly planted on to his face, for a whole minute while groaning and adding barely legible curses that'd make his mom throw slippers at him if she was in the room. He then calmed down, took a deep breath, and shooed the mercenary away with his hands. "Get out. I'll have something for you to do in a day or so." Kim needed time to think.
"Yes sir!" The mercenary saluted him and left the room. Kim leaned back on his comfy office chair, he was quite a clever young man who knew not to spend money on overly expensive gamer chairs, placing his hands on the back of his head while rocking back and forth. Maybe I should've shot that guy to make an example… Kim shook his head at the idea that popped into his head. No, that'd just be a waste of money. I never got why those evil guys shoot their underlings at the slightest hint of incompetence. Kim wouldn't have gotten far in the world of business if he shot every incompetent son-of-a-donkey's-hind in his sight. Heck, shooting so many people would probably more than halve the working population of Korea and Gemeinplatz, which'd be quite bad for the economy.
Kim looked outside the window while thinking where he saw the city of Casamonu. It was quite dark outside, like any other city in Gemeinplatz during nighttime. There was no convenient electric or magic lighting, so life at the city disappeared along with the sun itself. Kim had installed a portable generator and a few electric lights into his office to not have to go to sleep along with the city. He was the sort of man who would not sleep until 3 AM, staying up to argue with strangers online.
Arguing… Thinking of his many ongoing forum quarrels, Kim remembered that he was supposed to be thinking about what to do with the fugitives on the mountains. The coalition so carefully built up by Count Leon had sort of dissolved when their first expedition resulted in failure on a comedic scale, meaning that it was every-man-for-himself when it came to eradicating the threat lurking on the mountains.
Adventurers had already rushed to Mount Curry as if it contained not copper but gold, but he was yet to hear any reports of captured slaves. This was quite disconcerting: either the slaves had already escaped, or they were managing to stay hidden in some sort of hidden base. Kim hoped for the former, he didn't really care what happened outside of his place-of-operation, but the latter meant that the slaves were planning on staying and causing panic. He had to commend them for their ability to cause indirect damage to the economy. Perhaps I should hire some thugs of my own to damage competition in other provinces…
Knock knock! "Who's there?" Kim's train of thought, which had slowly inched over to a plan, was derailed by a knock on his door.
Kim heard a familiar voice. "Nirmal, sir." It was his secretary.
"Come in." replied Kim, and Nirmal obliged. "What do you have to report on in the middle of the night?"
"It's about the hand cannons you brought. We have two of them spare now that their users are no longer… working with our company." Nirmal was carrying around two M1 Garands in his arms as if he was carrying a baby. The secretary was violating every known law of firearm security as he did so, which caused Kim to be slightly worried. "What should we do with them?"
"Just throw them into a stockpile in Gemeinplatz. Having them in Korea would be dangerous." Even with the might of his Isegye Company behind him, it had been quite a bother to smuggle what little arms they had brought into Korea; Kim would have begun making plans for world domination if he had the ability to bring in more weaponry. Maybe I should move my company over to the United States, is what he thought sometimes, but moving his portal to Gemeinplatz was impossible as far as he knew. "We might need them at some point."
"You're not going to hire new mercenaries?" Nirmal was curious as to what Kim was planning.
Kim shook his head. "No, I've realized something." His train of thought had reached its destination during the conversation with Nirmal.
"What'd that be, sir?"
Rising up from his seat, Kim had only one thing to declare: "Sometimes you have to do things yourself."
20th of Summer, 5859
Mount Curry, Casamonu / Azdavay
"Praise be to the Our Father in Heaven, it looks beautiful…"
Brown stood alongside a small group of freemen, and in front of them stood semi-spherical structures that one might mistake for some sort of housing if they were to squint their eyes. Their hands and clothes, or what little clothes they had, were covered in mud and grime similar to the houses they were standing in front of.
Straws bunched together, bent and covered in a mix of mud and slime with a wood log in the middle to balance everything out, were the pinnacle of construction technology in Mount Curry. It had taken the construction crew a long week of scaling down ambitions and experimentation to finally arrive at a design which they could construct with their limited skills and resources. Making a structure out of mud wasn't easy; making a structure out of mud which didn't slowly melt and disappear in the rain was hard.
Brown eventually planned constructing houses with wood and clay bricks, with all the saws and whatnot they had acquired courtesy of Sir Baha, but that required even more time and skill. What was important right now was to stop having to cram everyone in the cave like they were sardines in a can. These glorified mud tents would have to do for now.
Besides, even these mud tents were somehow better than their old slave accommodations.
"As beautiful as mud can be, anyways." added Ayomide, who had been tasked as always with drying any material that needed to be dried. Her hands were sore from having to move them around so much while drying.
"You see young lady," began Brown which prompted Ayomide to get ready for another lecture "I think it is most beautiful that one can make shelter just from the earth which our Maker has provided us so graciously in abundance."
Yes, oh so gracious is he that we are made to live under mud and rain, added Ayomide silently. She had learned, along with everyone else, to not enter fruitless arguments with John Brown. They had learned that one couldn't change Brown's mind about "God" and whatnot.
"Speaking of earth and mud, I wonder what the Bilal and his kilnsters are doing." Ayomide expertly changed the subject, and Brown followed suit as to not be idle.
"We should check, young lady." Brown and Ayomide bid farewell to the construction crew as they headed down to where Bilal was conducting experiments to make a kiln that actually worked.
"May the Divine bless us with a working pottery kiln. It willing we shall get a furnace that burns bright and properly processes poetry…" Vaiz was praying for divine intervention while Bilal and his men were contributing by praying and keeping watch over the fire. His hands open in prayer were covered in mud; the priest clearly hadn't sat by idly to which Brown would reply with something akin to "faith is dead without good works".
"Cap', the smoke isn't going black!" shouted Hakim, who was tasked with keeping watch over the fire. Cooking and pottery weren't all too dissimilar, especially in the department of fire making.
"Good. Let's hope that it stays that way. Keep fanning that fire!" replied Bilal, who was commanding everyone else in the area. Black smoke meant that combustion was not complete, which meant that not enough oxygen was entering the kiln which'd hamper efficiency. No one in the area knew what an "oxygen" was, except for Brown and Tubman who themselves weren't too knowledgeable on the subject. They knew or quickly learned that fire needed an intake of air to burn, the hard part was trying to construct a kiln that could get enough air in while not letting heat out.
With the knowledge above, Bilal and his team had slowly iterated towards a workable convection kiln design.
It was a laughably simple and small design compared to what they had back in the mines, but it was a pretty impressive one considering the process leading up to it: plenty of kilns were shattered, countless pottery botched, and one man had even almost lost their hand when they accidentally touched a heated kiln. At the bottom was the "firebox", where the fuel (mostly twigs and straw: Bilal had observed that directly putting logs in would cause the pottery to crack from the intense heat) would be placed through a hole opened to the side to allow air to pass through. Atop the firebox sat the chamber where the pottery itself would sit atop a column separating it from directly meeting the fire.
The construction itself was simple, but the hardest part was the material from which the kiln was constructed from. The area of Mount Curry which found themselves in had soil with lots of clay, which tended to crack by itself when it was used to make such a large structure. After trying different materials to strengthen the clay, the kiln crew found that adding high amounts of sand could help the kiln survive.
"Hakim, how's the pottery faring?" asked Bilal. He was happy to see that their kiln had successfully survived its maiden voyage. Now came for the real test: successfully firing pottery.
"Cap' it's…" Hakim took hold of a vase sitting inside the kiln, using a sword to grab it by a handle and drag it towards him. Out came a perfectly intact piece of pottery, much to the jubilee of everyone in the area. "Oh! It's… a vase!"
"Praise be!" exclaimed Vaiz as he moved his hands near the vase, not touching it as it was still hot as Hell, as if he was blessing it. "Thank ye for rewarding our hard work, o' great one!"
"Thank the Lord, the King of Kings, and the Holy Spirit who leads us!" Brown joined in the festivities with a blessing of His own. "Oh, what a great day this is!"
Ayomide silently watched as a gang of fully-grown adult men gathered around a piece of pottery and prayed around it with great jubilee.
Today, on the 20th of Summer, 5859, Bilal and his crew entered the New Stone Age (a.k.a. the Neolithic Age).
Shoutouts to Ancient Pottery for this great guide which helped me greatly during this episode. Sorry if I went a bit overboard with the technical details in this episode - I do love engineering and whatnot, so I couldn't help but prattle on about kilns.
Also shoutout to my Patrons, who help me stay alive and focus on Johning and Browning! Join today to get up to twenty chapters of previews!
Chapter XXXVI – Be swift my folk, to organize ourselves!
CabbagePreacher
Grand Preacher of All Brassicans
- Location
- Brasscirom, Cabbagelandetia
- Pronouns
- Anything
23rd of Summer, 5859
Mount Curry, Casamonu / Azdavay
Civilization, the human kind that we know of, has an interesting property in that its growth is exponential. If one were to jump one millennium from 50,000 BC to 49,000 BC, one would see the same scenery: humans barely figuring out how to light a fire. But if one were to jump the same distance from 1000 AD to 2000 AD, one would switch from gallant knights on horseback to gallant thermonuclear warheads on nuclear submarines.
Of course, Brown wasn't going to be making such a huge leap; constructing nuclear weaponry to rain righteous hellfire on slavers was unfortunately quite hard due to the fact that Brown didn't even know what a "radiation" was. Not to mention that there's a limit to exponentiality when all one has is a bunch of miners turned kiln workers. Nonetheless…
"Praise be to the Lord!"
"The Greatest hath delivered us with liquid of the earth!"
Brown, and his small congregation next to the larger congregation of Vaiz, were quite excited as progress itself in liquid form melted down to a mold of clay. From their newly found cradle in the Neolithic, the people of Mount Curry had launched themselves into…
"Copper! Sweet copper, O' Lord!"
…as announced by Harriet Tubman herself, they had launched themselves into the Chalcolithic Age (a.k.a. the Copper Age) in record pace (3 days, compared to the thousands of years needed by the average human society on Earth).
Such progress may not seem grand to those reading this on their magical computation devices. To a bunch of abolitionists looking for any sort of advantage, the manufacture of copper was quite a big deal.
Unlike the stone which Brown and Ayomide had fashioned spears out of, copper was a metal which was much more versatile. One couldn't for example, unless one was especially brave or foolish, fashion a bowl out of stone; one could fashion all sorts of bowls out of copper. Helmets, random bits of fashionable plate that the adventurers might call armor, nails etc. all opened up thanks to the wondrously malleable metal that was copper.
"That's quite a good spear tip if I do say so myself." Bilal raised the clay mold with the molten copper poured into it as the onlookers watched with pride. Ayomide was at the back, wondering whether Mount Curry was slowly driving the faithful folk to insanity, for she couldn't find any reasonable explanation for so much zealotry over copper of all things. Sure, she was happy that she wouldn't have to eat off of wet, muddy bowls, but did that really call for such ceremony?
After having sufficiently stared at their comrade's success, the crowd around the kilns dispersed once more to busy themselves with work, work currently entailing constructing half-spheres out of mud and foraging / hunting food. Not quite the most glorious or exciting of tasks, but one had to do what one had to do in order to survive in Mount Curry.
Returning from his tasks to take a break was Shinasi, who had been overlooking the path that led up to the fugitive settlement. Of course, the freemen had made sure that they weren't visible from the path itself. Their settlement was built up the cliff, the same one that lead up to the cave that had sheltered Brown, behind higher sections of mountain. Even the smoke from the burning kilns was quite hard to spot from the path.
"Oh, it's Mister Shinasi." commented one little Tater, stating the obvious upon observing the former adventurer approaching. "Any trouble on that path?"
"I'd be screaming my lungs out if there was." replied Shinasi, who clearly wasn't screaming out anything. "Seen seven adventurers on the path today, though they of course didn't intend to scale the cliff." He slowly and lazily yawned. It was quite boring being idle. "I'll be hitting the hay now; it's been a long day of doing nothing."
"G'night then." Tater waved, before a sinister smile appeared on his face. "Good luck with your miss."
"Shut up, kid." said Shinasi, dismissing Tater by quickly walking away from the boy towards his newly built dwelling. He hadn't figured out which was worse: the lodgings at the Adventurer's Guild or the lodgings over at the Brown Mud Guild? Looking over the mud house that he was standing in front of, Shinasi couldn't help but compare and evaluate his situation.
Doubt tended to beset him, as it always does to those who dare take a step forward. He was a fugitive now, no better than a fugitive slave except for the color of his skin. He had most likely slain people, actual living people like him, in the ambush. There was still a chance for him to turn back, return to normal adventuring and forget about all of this abolitionist nonsense. Sure, he had gained somewhat of an ideological basis for being against nobility and slavery, nor did he see the darkskins and demi-humans as inferior or deserving of slavery. Joining an abolitionist cause however, it felt like a lost cause to fight against an entire empire, especially when his own liberty wasn't the liberty at stake.
Shinasi violently shook his head, as if his own thoughts were flies that were buzzing around his head that he wanted to scare away. I should really go to sleep. He approached the mud house, only to be interrupted by someone else coming out of the door.
"Oh, you're back." It was Ayomide, with hands ever so muddy.
Shinasi didn't know what to say for a second, his brain was too full with needless thought. He eventually recovered enough to greet Ayomide back, and point out the elephant in the mud house. "My job's done for the day. Also, why are you in my house?"
"My own hands were involved in building this one, so I think I have some sort of right to be in here." replied Ayomide casually. "Besides, I'm a free woman, aren't I? I can do whatever I want."
Shinasi sighed. "I know that, but freedom doesn't exactly entail being free to break the law."
Upon hearing this reasonably reasonable point, Ayomide sufficed by shrugging. "What law? We don't have any laws here, unless you want to listen to Brown and Vaiz preach about 'laws of the Lord' and whatnot."
"Huh?" Shinasi paused to think. They didn't have any laws, not in Mount Curry at the least, now that he thought about it. "Maybe I should ask the old man to begin prosecuting criminals who break and enter. Ahem," He realized only now that he had been sent off track "legality besides, what were you doing in my house?
"I was just checking to see if the house was struc… What was that word? Struc-… struk-chu-a-lee safe." Ayomide took a peek back at the house with a hint of pride. "The walls were filled to the brim with water. You'd be drowning in your sleep if I didn't dry its insides."
"Thank you, for not letting me drown." Shinasi wished that he had the convenient abilities of a magic hairdryer. He wanted to give a compliment to Ayomide, but he couldn't find one that wasn't banal, ingenuine, or embarrassing to say out loud (most of them were in the third category). In the end Shinasi went with something simple that might not even be classified as a compliment. "Must be tiring to go through each and every one of these."
"It's fine. I only inspected yours, our guard needs to have a good sleep after all." Ayomide smiled ever so slightly. "Can't have stray adventurers coming up to catch fugitives now, can we?"
Shinasi replied by nervously laughing at the jab. "Yeah, having none of that would be nice, wouldn't it?"
Ayomide couldn't help but pause at the thought. "No adventurers to hunt us down. What a world that'd be." She paused when she heard Brown calling out to a group of people. "Oh, I think it's time for the council again." The revolutionary catgirl took a few steps towards the cave, only to stop once she noticed that Shinasi wasn't following her. "Aren't you going to join?"
"No," Shinasi yawned more to make his point. "I really need to go to sleep. Don't have much to speak about there anyways; all this politics is way above my head. I'll be going along with whatever it is that Mount Curry decides."
"I see." Ayomide approached Shinasi to give him a pat on the back and another smile, albeit this one was a bit bigger. There was an awkward moment of silence while Ayomide thought of what to say. "Good… night to you." Her hand was still on Shinasi's back, the awkward moment drawing longer and even more awkward by every second. Eventually Ayomide settled on not speaking too much, separating from Shinasi with a silent wave of the hand.
"Good night to you too." replied Shinasi, meekly raising hands to wave. He had been paralyzed in the moment due to one obvious reason. She stood way too close; I could even hear her breathe! The awkward young man he was, Shinasi cursed himself for not having said something like "Do you have anything else to say?" or "So, do you like being this close to me?". Damn this cattish woman and damn the coward whose interest lies in her!
It seemed that Ayomide was skilled in casting spells of the mundane variety, at least on Shinasi. Or, all the more likely, Shinasi's magic resistance was too low (which was quite the problem for a tank like him).
I should really go to sleep. Sleep makes everything better. Having figured out the secret for happiness, sleep, Shinasi entered the mud hut to find another surprise: On the floor was not straw, the current standard of bedding in Mount Curry and in most of Gemeinplatz, but a bear pelt laid on top of straw, which was quite the luxury. Thinking about it, I haven't seen any man-bears in a while; we should've spotted plenty in Mount Curry. Their fur could be quite useful if we could.
His thoughts on the man-bear ecosystem aside, Shinasi wasn't unhappy to receive some extra bedding. What had gotten him, as Brown would say with his fancy and big words, discombobulated was who this pelt might belong to: Ayomide had been wearing the waistcoat-and-pants combination since summer had arrived with a striking lack of bear pelt. He turned to the door, intending to ask Ayomide whether sleeping on her clothes was okay, before he realized that the one who left this little (or large, considering how bear pelts usually are) gift was Ayomide herself. One usually didn't have to ask the giver of a present whether it was okay to use said present.
No use thinking much about it now. Shinasi was too tired to be flustered; he was tired enough to fall like freshly cut timber face-first on to the bed. Huh, what's this smell? It's kind of familiar. He didn't have to think much to realize that he had smelt the same pleasant smell a moment ago when Ayomide had been so close to him. It felt like she was right next to him.
…damn this cattish woman and damn the coward whose interest lies in her! Once more Shinasi thought the same thing. He eventually drifted into another world, to the land of dreams which awaits all those who heed the call of sleep. Tonight's sleep was, compared to some of the more luxury accommodations Shinasi had acquired during times of financial luck, the most pleasant that had experienced.
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- Pronouns
- They/Them/She/Her
Is that "heard" a typo, or does he have some form of synesthesia or the like?CabbagePreacher said: