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His Soul is Marching On to Another World; or, the John Brown Isekai

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Chapter LII – He that is without weaponry among you.
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    ​

    In the depths of some nondescript forest in the middle of Northern Gemeinplatz, a trio of people were in trouble. Ranging from John Brown the 19th century radical abolitionist to Ayomide the 59th century magical catgirl abolitionist, theirs was quite the diverse group to be in trouble. Surrounded by eleven men who looked like what would happen if the unholy union between a generic low-level JRPG baddie and a generic WRPG bandit mob met and fell in love with the looters from a certain Strategy-RPG name involving mounts and blades. No matter their greatly disheveled and slovenly state, a group of eleven angry men was still a group of eleven angry men, one short of being twelve angry men but they were a bunch of angry men looking to judge the value of someone's life (in the slave market) nonetheless.

    "Alright, alright, no need to lose your cool gentlemen." Ayomide dropped her dagger to the ground, while her comrades-in-arms watched her in shock.

    Brown angrily whispered towards Ayomide, making sure the bandits weren't hearing her. "Young lady, you don't need to-"

    "Be calm, trust in 'God's plan' or whatever, and both of you shut your eyes when the time comes." The catgirl turned back to the bandits surrounding them. She took out the green gem she had looted in the dungeon. "Would this do instead of me?"

    "Ayomide, they're thieves! You aren't expecting to negotiate with them, aren't you?!" Shinasi wasn't whispering, he was brazenly shouting to let the thieves hear his totally genuine concern. "I had to sell my family's heirloom golden… um… brush to buy that for you!"

    The bandits laughed when they heard Shinasi plead for financial mercy. It looked like they had hit the jackpot, first they'd get the big precious-looking gem, then they'd get the small precious-looking catgirl. "Give it to us, then you can go." Their leader was amazed by the sheer naïveté shown by the catgirl, were all darkskins this dumb?

    "Thank you for your generous grace, sir." Ayomide sluggishly approached the bandit leader, holding the gem right towards his face. Her hand covered the faces of the gem facing towards her and her comrades. The leader lowered his weapon and stared at the gem intently, his wide smile reflected on the green glassy surface. Unfortunately, Ayomide was so rude as to interrupt a man's smile. "[Flash Bang]!"

    The spell did what its name implied: a flash and a bang. First came a concentrated burst of light magic towards the semi-circle of bandits surrounding Brown and co., temporarily (perhaps even permanently) blinding them. The bandit leader had it worst out of all of them as his eyes were wide open and right in front of the magic. Then came the bang part of the flash-and-bang, where an explosion of wind magic (concentrated in one direction as to not harm one's allies) bursts forth to create the aforementioned "Bang!" The effects of hearing such a loud sound and having bright light shone right in your eyes are intuitive, many would agree that having a sparkling magical gem go "Bang!" next to your face wouldn't count as a pleasant experience.

    In more scientific terms unknown to the people of Gemeinplatz, the sudden burst of light overwhelms one's photoreceptor cells making one go temporarily blind (permanently blind if this burst has strong ultraviolet rays which can deal permanent damage, akin to what would happen if you stared at the sun). The loud "Bang!" causes what's called a "temporary threshold shift", where sensitivity to lower noises (such as speech, important when you're a bandit leader) is reduced. A very loud "Bang!" can cause your eardrums to rupture and not work at all, something which might happen if your face is sitting right next to a magical gem operated by a very pissed off magical catgirl. Not to mention the fluid inside your ear, the thing that helps you get a sense of balance, bouncing around and making one feel very sick.

    At that moment the bandit leader couldn't care less about the fancy scientific explanations listed above. All he knew was that his ears were ringing, that he had fallen to the ground after losing his balance and that he had suddenly gone blind. He shouted at his men to get the bastards, but his comrades weren't in a better state either. They were all rocking their heads, having lost all sense of direction.

    "I think that'll be a bit harder to pull off next time." shouted Ayomide. She and her comrades standing towards her back were all fine, except for the fact that they were a bit scared after seeing eleven completely healthy men suddenly fall to the ground and begin calling for their mothers.

    "Then let us skedaddle before what little wits they hold come back!" Brown didn't need to agree for their confirmation on this action. Ayomide and Shinasi had begun legging it before he had given any orders, the catgirl only briefly pausing to kick the bandit leader in the groin and spit on his face. Shinasi contributed as well, using the handle of his spear like a pestle before leaving. Brown shouted after them to not needlessly humiliate their enemies in such an unchristian fashion, but it was far too late to try and keep some decency in this family friendly series about a man wanting to enact judgement on all slavers.

    Brown and co. began following the markers on the trees, hoping that the bandits would give up. On the contrary, the bandits were furious, pissed-off, and looking for blood. The first one who recovered was already after them, the rest of his comrades following suit in an odd conga line of those who recovered last at the back. Their leader was still absent, probably writhing somewhere on the ground while throwing racial slurs which needn't be conveyed in text. Shinasi turned his head back, thinking of fighting the one lone guy that was at the front of the conga line. He soon realized that pausing to fight one guy would give time for the rest of the conga line to catch up and make the lone guy not so lone anymore.

    Thankfully, the bandits were still disoriented due to being unable to hear and see properly, so they weren't quick enough to catch up. Some of them had even crashed into trees or tripped on twigs on their wild-abolitionist chase. By the time Brown and co. had exited the forest, the number of angry men after them had dropped to six. Not a number they could claim absolute victory over without bruises, but an amount that Brown was willing to beat up nonetheless. He stopped and turned around towards the bandits, so did Ayomide and Shinasi in preparation for a tough battle.

    The first brave soul to lunge forward was a bandit carrying a knife, who charged towards Shinasi in all his lack of wit at the current moment. The adventurer still carried his shield and spear, he lunged his spear forwards to force the man to pause before he swung forward with his shield to bash him right on the cheek. Being involved in more than one street fight back in Azdavay had made him adept at handling lightly equipped opponents with low combat skills and high courage. His opponent fell to the ground before the rest of the group had a chance to properly catch up with Brown and co. Catch up they quickly did however, and now Brown and co. had five angry men to deal with at once. These men stayed far away from Ayomide as they possibly could, but this was not of much use. She didn't have enough energy left in her to create another flash-bang like the last one, but a few wind spells directed at their legs did a good enough job of making them lose balance at the most inconvenient moments. Like that one guy who ended up tripping right into an unscheduled meeting with the business end of Brown's fist, or the other who had tripped and bashed his head right onto Shinasi's shield.

    And then there were three, before a gunshot rang out and there were none who weren't running away. "Shit, it must be the Imperials with those guns!" shouted one bandit as he disappeared off into another forest, all six of them had managed to stay conscious enough to scatter and skedaddle.

    Brown collapsed on to the floor, out of breath and way out of the limits of what his old body could manage without a healthy dose of adrenaline. "Oh, thank the Lord, thank the Lord… Oh glory…" He would have begun praying further if not for the fact that he had just heard a gunshot. He shouted towards the general direction of the explosion "Who are you?!"

    A woman's voice shouted back at them from up close. "It is I, Doctor Raban Rabanowicz Rabanow of Kiyelm, monsieur Smith and madame Ayomide!" Soon a familiar figure, flanked by the familiar figure of Watanabe, popped out from behind some conveniently placed boulders. She held a plain wheellock pistol whose barrel was smoking. "We heard some commotion, and I thought that maybe a bit of noise could help you out." She opened her book, actually a small chest which was designed to look like a book from the inside, and took a bag of gunpowder out of it. The doctor continued to speak while reloading her weapon, a long process which would take more than half a minute. "What brings you here?"

    "We were…" Brown hadn't been ready to give excuses for what they were doing. "…transporting some cargo out of town before a bunch of those men attacked us."

    "I see, a bunch of deplorable thieves." Rabanowicz rammed a ball of lead and some powder through the barrel of the gun. "We were here due to not having enough money to enter the town due to thieves of the legal kind. They only scoffed when I showed them my silver leaves." She finished the process of reloading her gun by cocking the wheel mechanism into a safe position with a spanner before putting it back into her "book". "Me and Watanabe set up a little camp here if you need a rest."

    "Yes. Mister Smith, we'd be very glad to have you here!" announced Watanabe in an exaggerated matter. "Maybe we could have a chat about where the hell we are in more detail?"

    Shinasi stopped Brown before he could speak. "Captain, shouldn't we work to evacuate the goods?"

    "If the bandits want them, then they've most likely pillaged them by now. If they don't, then nobody's coming into that forest other than us." replied Brown, who was still out of breath. "Do you want us to try to navigate back there in this state, young man?"

    "Right." Shinasi and Ayomide didn't exactly want to reenter the forest either.

    Brown turned back to Rabanowicz and Watanabe "We'll be glad to sample your hospitality. We all need a rest."

    "Perfect. I have some tea in my bag if you're interested." Rabanowicz opened a large knapsack which sat by her waist. She took out two small cups and a bag presumably containing tea. "These are fresh leaves collected from near Sherifeld… Though I can surmise that none of you know where that is."

    Brown had many questions, so did Rabanowicz, and both sides met next to a bonfire to discuss matters related to multiverses.
    You know what, I'm sick of the holidays being used for commercial purposes. All the tacky, gaudy songs about Christmas and New Years, the constant sales and the drive to consume...

    Anyways, if you wish to make yourself merry this season, how about you give support to your local John Brown vendor before the Ghost of Christmas Past visits your home? All your help is greatly appreciated, and Happy New Years!
     
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    • Reese said:
    I believe Brown and company encountered them in the dungeon, recently arrived in this world?
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    Specifically, the Minor Curry Dungeon:
    CabbagePreacher said:
    "Thanks for your help, Mister Smith. I am Watanabe Haruto, glad to meet you."
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    CabbagePreacher said:
    "Thank you for your assistance, madame. I'd be Doctor Raban Rabanowicz Rabanow of Kiyelm, but you can just call me Doctor Rabanowicz…?"
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    Heh, now I imagine everyone in Kiyelm being named Raban Rabanowicz Rabanow... but they make it work, somehow.
    "Greetings on this fine day! Have you seen Doctor Raban Rabanowicz Rabanow?"

    "Yeah, talking with Farmer Raban Rabanowicz Rabanow a while ago."

    "Oh, not with Trader Raban Rabanowicz Rabanow? Well, now I know where to look... Thank you, Hunter Raban Rabanowicz Rabanow!"

    "You're welcome, Father Raban Rabanowicz Rabanow."
     
    Chapter LIII – He that is without a clue among you.
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    • 30th of Summer, 5859
    Outskirts of the City of Casamonu, Casamonu    ​

    A fire raged on. Not a metaphorical one, an actual fire raged on the side of the highway as an errant group had met up to have a rest. Rabanowicz put her steel fire striker back into her satchel and sat on the ground along with the trio she had invited. "By Kiyelm, I'll have ye all know that we truly have no idea where we are currently located. Except for the fact that this place is named… Excuse me, what was this realm named again?"

    Watanabe butted in. "Gemainpuradzu, if I recall right."

    "Yes, Gemaynplodz." Rabanowicz instinctively readjusted her spectacles as she continued to speak "I'd like to know where we are on the globe as I have unfortunately not heard of this place. Do you know where Lahanezy is?"

    Brown, Shinasi and Ayomide all looked at each other looking for an answer. Not a hint of understanding or crumbs of knowledge were found on their faces. The old man had to break the bad news to them. "No, we do not know of a Laheighetzee."

    "Éirois?"

    "…No."

    "Molli?"

    "…None of us seem to know that place either."

    "Nehoun? Tovkjo?"

    Shinasi stood up, getting a bit too excited over knowing something for once in his life. "Yes! That's- That's like the capital of some place on Örf, isn't it?"

    Dr. Rabanowicz solemnly rested her chin on her hands, clearly in deep though. "If you know of that place…" She hummed and closed her eyes for a while. "…The only logical conclusion as the we're on Earth."

    "Doctor, I'd like to inform you of the face that Earth doesn't have catgirls." replied Watanabe, ever familiar with his home planet.

    "It doesn't? But there's one right in front of us, can you actually disprove my thesis that we are on Earth? Have you travelled everywhere on Earth, monsieur? How have you spoken so deeply and fervently about catgirls if they do not exist at all?"

    Even the old earthling Brown couldn't help but doubt himself when facing someone speaking so assuredly. Catgirls could have been hiding somewhere in Africa for all he knew with his 19th century knowledge. Still, he had gone over this issue plenty of times with Harriet Tubman. "We definitely are not anywhere on Earth, Doctor Rabanowicz. This is an entirely different place, though…" The old man paused, noticing a slight issue. "…that begs the question, where are you from?"

    "The village of Kiyelm, far north of the empire of the Éirois. We realistically cannot be too far from where we last were…" There was much silence. Both sides had heard of Earth, yet they knew not of where the other came from. Either they were very lost, or they were all going through some sort of mass hysteria.

    The only person to have slowly formed an idea was Watanabe, who stood up and grabbed a large stick from the ground. He drew four circles on the ground and labelled them separately in a script that was known to no one else. "Alright, I think I have some sort of idea." This prospect of someone having any idea caught the attention of everyone else, so they were listening to Watanabe attentively. He pointed the stick towards the circle he had labelled "Earth" and said "So, I come from here."

    "…young man, you come from a nondescript circle on the ground?" replied Brown.

    Watanabe retracted his rhetorical stick for a second "Nondescript? I'd say that it's pretty non-nondescript with that label… Oh, you're right, it'd be pretty weird if you all knew how to read kanji." He revised his model of Earth by adding very crude drawings of the continents into the circle. "Anyways, this is called Earth, and it's where I come from. It has places like Nihon, Chuugoku, Kankoku, Amerika…"

    Brown raised his hand "I'm from the United States, so I'd be from Earth as well."

    "Then we're in a similar situation." Watanabe moved onto another circle he scratched and pointlessly labeled. "This one's the place with Rahaneji, Ayuroyu, that place with all the weird names where Doctor Rabanowicz comes from and where I ended up after I died."

    Now Rabanowicz raised her hand in objection "Monsieur, I'd say that 'Czuvgoku' is an even odder name, but do go on."

    "And this circle, this one is Gemainpuradzu, the place where we apparently are in right now. From what I can understand, Mr. Smith came from Earth to here. I assume that happened after your death? My original transmigration to another world happened when I kicked the bucket by kicking a bucket and falling headfirst on to the ground while trying to run away from a truck."

    "You would be right Mr. Watanabe. I last remember meeting my timely end and…" Brown furrowed his brows. What had happened right after his supposed death? "…and, and… there was some sort of voice? I unfortunately cannot remember who or what I heard back then, but I remember feeling light and floating in a white, empty space." He assumed that the voices he heard must have been the chatter of his executioners before his consciousness had finally faded.

    Watanabe nodded in response "Interesting, I had a similar experience. I remember… Well, I only vaguely recall, speaking to someone in a big empty space. All I remember was that I was very pissed off before I got sent to the dimension inhabited by the likes of Doctor Rabanowicz." He suddenly turned to Rabanowicz "Actually, what were we doing before we ended up here?"

    "Erm, uhm…" Rabanowicz scratched her head, adjusting her spectacles and looked around for a second before digging out a thick stack of papers barely bound by leather. She flipped it around for a while before seemingly reaching a satisfying conclusion. "We were going to investigate…" Her eyes flew around her notes "…investigate the phenomenon of people like you entering completely different worlds by conducting an interview with a local nobleman. We had set off on the road before… before… before, what exactly?" She looked completely dumbfounded, her mouth remaining open for a second while it let out incoherent noises which signaled that no coherent thoughts were being made. "…did we die? How? When?!" The doctor patted her own body to check if she still inhabited a corporeal form. "Oh, thank the One Above, I am still left tangible and breathing."

    "Yes, let us thank the Lord for letting us stay alive even in this quite ridiculous circumstance." Brown and the doctor both quickly muttered some prayers in an odd sync.

    Watanabe had to wait for them to finish prayer before he could go on. "…anyways, what I have gathered is that there seems to be a common way which we have all been isekai'd. Empty white space, some sort of chatter, and a sense floating…" He idly scratched on the ground while doing his best to ponder deep metaphysical questions. "…and how weirdly this all coincides with isekai literature found in my world… Gah!" He threw the stick somewhere far away. His head had begun to hurt after having thought too much. "This is all to weird, don't you think?!" One could hear the stick hit a tree not too far away. Reading about isekai was all too fine, but actually being isekai'd made a modern man like Watanabe think too much about complicated questions. "Damn it, I just wanted to be an overpowered hero in another world, not deal with this nonsense!"

    Rabanowicz rolled her eyes, looking away from the raving lunatic. "Here he goes about being 'overpowered' again…"

    Shinasi briefly jumped into the conversation, finally having something of value to add. "I can understand him. Becoming 'overpowered', or 'OP' for short, is the final goal of any adventurer." He jumped out the convo as quickly as he had entered it.

    Brown had a more productive question on his mind. "What'd this 'isekai literature' refer to, young man?"

    Watanabe returned to his senses after being asked a question "It makes sense that an old American wouldn't know about it. It's a genre where someone gets transported into another world, just like the situation you and I are in."

    Rabanowicz scoffed upon hearing what an isekai was. "That's it?"

    "Well, there are also subgenres, like otome isekai… and…" Watanabe was about to talk about GameLit and LitRPGs, but he realized that all he said would be moot against people who had none of the concepts needed to understand either of those things. "…a lot of other things which'd take a very long time to explain. I had time to read a lot of them when slaving away in the office."

    "Slaving away?" Now was Ayomide's turn to suddenly butt into the conversation. "You were a slave on Earth?"

    "No, no, no, that was just metaphorical. My boss worked me like a slave, but at least I was free to leave and starve on the streets." replied Watanabe, his voice becoming louder and audibly a whole lot more annoyed at the mention of his boss. "I'd rather camp out here in the woods forever rather than go back and work as a salaryman again. May I also be damned if I become the type of protagonist to buy a slave! Those types were always such a turn-off for me…" Watanabe would have rather had the ladies flock to him due to his OP powers, not because of obligation. "What good is there in a harem if the girls don't genuinely love you?!" He was about to continue his rant before he realized that he was getting confused glares from everyone again.

    "Slavery? What a deplorable institution." Rabanowicz followed up with her own monologue. "I'd say that those upmost heathenish cabbage-worshipping men back home deserve to be smitten for what they do unto others in their path to damnable greed."

    Brown liked where the doctor had gone with her overly loquacious monologue. "While I know not of any 'cabbage-worshipping', I do know that enslaving others and putting your fellow man below you is a grave sin.

    "Indeed, it is." Rabanowicz took a look at a metal pot which she had put over the fire. It was bubbling hot by now, so she began pouring the water into smaller cups she had also carried with her all the way to Gemeinplatz. "This may be a controversial opinion to hold, but I'd even go so far as to say that the the vanquishment of a slaver is a net good for the moral and material commonwealth of a realm."

    "I'd say that vanquishing my boss would have been a 'net good for the moral and material commonwealth' as well." added Watanabe as he accepted a cup of tea. Being the big damn hero vanquishing bosses seemed like an amicable idea to him. "If there are any bosses nearby, point me towards their direction and I'll slay them." he added half-jokingly.

    "Interesting. I am glad to have encountered such kindred spirits even if we are from completely different places." Brown received his cup of tea as well. "I have a proposal to make to you fine gentleman and lady. Maybe you'd like to hear it over tea?"
     
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    • Chapter LIV – He that is without a cause among you.
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    • 32th of Summer, 5859
    Libertycave, Mount Curry    ​

    While going up Mount Curry, one might take notice of many wonderful sights. The grass ever wettened by the endless rain accompanied by the smell of wet earth, the endless forest of trees feeding off of the endless rain and, of course, an ever-growing band of abolitionists who live here in their secret natural habitat. Blocked by mountains, trees, and tree-filled mountains, they were perfectly hidden, not to be found by any soul walking on this not-Earth. Except for those who could fly, but they were pretty rare in Gemeinplatz.

    Amongst the rare walking souls who knew of this location was Brown and co, who were on a mission of express delivery. Their cargo consisted of two new people that they had happened to meet along the way: an errant pair, an otherworlder and a doctor of some description. Rabanowicz had actually needed to clarify that she was not a "medical doctor", whatever that was, and that she was a "student of natural philosophy", whatever that was only Brown could understand. The others could only think of her as either insane, extremely alien, or extremely rich as to become the student of a thing they hadn't heard about.

    On the other hand, the old man had gotten very interested in her, having been speaking about various matters of "science" as Brown called it, and "natural philosophy" as Rabanowicz called it. It was a weird battle of semantics, Rabanowicz calling herself a "philosopher" while Brown insisted that a better title for her would be a "man of science" or a "scientist". Coming from completely separate worlds with completely separate cultures and levels of scientific understanding didn't help them reach very far in this semantic debate. What they could reach consensus on however was that: 1. Enslaving people was "cringe" (as Brown put it to appeal to the modern youngster Watanabe) and 2. They had been brought to Gemeinplatz for some sort of divine mission. The nature of the "divine" part of this "divine mission" was very much up to debate however, Brown unable to convince Rabanowicz to accept the Trinity no matter what. Her insistence on a non-capital-G god of one unified nature wasn't fitting in well with Brown's religious doctrine either. There was also the problem that she carried around a bible very different from the Bible, filled with the names of places that no one expect Rabanowicz had heard. Perhaps this was the biggest cultural shock to Brown: an entirely separate realm which had not heard a single word of the Good Book. He thought that Rabanowicz must have just been unlucky as to not encounter it back home.

    Brown and co. noticed something odd when they scaled up to the cliffside containing their hidden encampment. The number of mud huts had increased twofold since their absence, so had the number of freemen in the camp. One could even begin calling this place a "village" rather than a "place with a bunch of huts in close proximity", though the pedantic types might argue that those two are the same thing and that this place was a village from the beginning. Rather than pointlessly argue about more semantics however, Brown was more interested in investigating the sudden population boom. Thankfully Tubman was at work outdoors, and she quickly noticed the arrival of the people she had been waiting for. "Good morning, Captain Brown. I see that you've noticed our new members?" She watched as Brown and his company dragged along a cart full of textiles and dropped it in front of her. A group of freemen immediately descended upon the cart, taking the goods to fashion them into whatever they needed.

    "It's hard to not notice your work, General Tubman." replied Brown "I've brought over some people of my own too." Rabanowicz and Watanabe waved at Tubman, though their minds were busier with examining the sad state of Libertycave. Still, this seemed better than camping outside the city due to being unable to pay the toll. "Meet Doctor Rabanoich, and Mister Wah… Wahtel… Wa… err…"

    "Watanabe, sir."

    "Yes, Mister Watanabe. We found them in quite the pinch and…" Brown quickly summarized his previous experiences with the errant pair "…they agreed to stay with us for a while." Watanabe and Rabanowicz then proceeded on with a round of their self-introductions, a process that took a few minutes and didn't relay any more information other than the fact that Watanabe carried around a saber with him (not that he knew how to fight with it) for saber-rattling purposes. It looked out of place when paired with his very ordinary business suit, though he did look very proud of himself when swinging it around like an amateur.

    "I see. Thank the Lord for guiding them here." Tubman called over a copperworker who worked with Bilal "You should be of great help to the copperworkers, make your way to Bilal and he'll find something for you." The doctor and the copperworker blended into the crowd and disappeared from sight. "As for you…" Tubman looked at Watanabe, who didn't exert an air of any sort of confidence or ability. He was a thin, twig-like man who'd probably collapse if she made him do any sort of hard labor. "…you… You can join Shinasi in patrolling the outskirts."

    Watanabe raised his hand like a shy little school boy. "Umm, General Tubman?"

    "Yes?"

    "What's the pay for this job?"

    Tubman couldn't help but laugh at the question. "We give you food, a hut, and you're free to do whatever you want for the rest of the day. This place is a settlement of the freest men in this realm, so I think helping maintain that is payment enough."

    "…right." Watanabe didn't look to bummed. He was a simple man, content as long as he was not forced to work in an office 24/7 from Monday to Sunday again. With a gaillard gait he marched with Shinasi so that he could be trained in the ancient art of "standing around and marching around a particular set of points".

    Tubman watched the new recruits disappear into the crowd before turning back to her old comrade. "Back to you, Captain Brown. I think you have some questions to ask me?"

    "I don't have some, I have many questions to ask of you General Tubman." Brown groaned a bit while supporting his back with his arms "However, I'd like to do so while resting my tired legs."

    Tubman gladly accepted Brown's invitation to sit down and have a chat, telling him of her excursions to various locales around Casamonu. John Brown was most pleased to hear of her adventures, and they ended their conversation with a brief prayer session that lasted an hour. Unbeknownst to them however, Tubman had ended up accidentally kicking the first domino in a long chain which'd lead to big changes in the county…





    33th of Summer, 5859
    Castle Casamonu, Casamonu    ​

    Things had slowly calmed down, for a while anyways. Count Leon had spent a whole lot of time writing letters, shaking hands and licking boots to make sure that trade would return. The Copperworkers' Guild was close to open revolt by the time he had managed to convince merchants that it was safe to engage in the copper trade again. The United Guild of Textile Manufacturers & Winemakers was even grumpier until he had managed to get one of his close family associates to send a caravan over to buy their goods (the count had made a tidy profit from this deal of course). Things were slowly returning to a new normal, and Count Leon was counting the days until the whole mass hysteria about the slave revolt would wash over and he could go back to counting his money again like a good count could be counted on to do. Those savages had probably eaten each other in the mountains by now, what was there to worry about?

    Of course, it had turned out that the count couldn't count on what he had expected to count on.

    "Your Excellency, the landed gentry of Casamonu have come together with a common petition." Poor Hilmi, his personal servant, had to be the one delivering the very thick and full envelope to him. "They're askin-"

    "I can read the letter on my own. You're dismissed." said Leon, dismissing the servant further with a motion of his hands. Having been doubly dismissed, Hilmi bowed and exited the room to leave his master to his own frustration.

    Count Leon ripped open the letter quickly, scraps of torn paper flying around the room. He could instinctively sense that the contents wouldn't be anything pleasant. He was surprised, not at the contents being unpleasant, but the degree of unpleasantness the content contained. The count was expecting something more typical, there were a couple of his annoying vassals who tried to lower their obligations by calling a favor here and there. Leon would promptly ignore them of course, but seeing their impudence would still annoy him to no end. Not to mention having to write them a long-winded letter about the obligations of a vassal, and then replying to their further pitiful letters… This however, this was a completely different situation that was uncalled for.

    "Your Excellency, we have grave news to inform you of. We have had the slave quarters of three plantations burnt down this week. These likely won't be the last. Please, we beg of you to…" The rest was a long request for help, filled with flower words and prose to lighten the impact. In short however, the landed gentry wished for the count to investigate the situation and assign patrols to protect their land. There was one problem however: countless plantations operated in Casamonu alone, and it was not like Leon was made out of money. Just protecting a few of them would cause his vassals to suspect that he might be playing favorites, while protecting all equally was impossible without him going bankrupt himself. Investigating the situation was possible, but finding anything useful out of a vague description of "someone is burning the slave quarters" wasn't going to be possible if the perpetrators weren't caught.

    That's when Leon realized a big problem. He had assumed that this ruckus had been caused by the fugitives, but upon closer examination, he realized that the burnt down buildings in question were slave quarters with the corpses of the slaves being found under them. Would they really kill their own? It did seem like a way of fighting slavery, but… not a way that made any sense even to Leon. He did give enough credit to the savages to think that they wouldn't burn their own for fun. There must have been someone else at play here… or so thought Count Leon. Perhaps it was someone trying to destabilize his rule, a pretender, a traitor amongst our midst… Who among us could it be?

    Leon's head was aching now. He didn't like it when it ached, so he threw the letter away from himself. The count needed relief, somehow or someway. Things would have been much easier if the slaves hadn't escaped from the mine… Wait, how had they managed to escape in the first place? To lay such a perfect ambush, to, to… Leon's mind was a mess, but he did arrive at a clear conclusion. Somebody must have ratted his men out, and getting this rat out of his hole would definitely give him relief. He knew that only one person had gotten in direct communication with the slaves, and clearly, that person would be the traitor.

    "Hilmi! Come back. I need you to gather my retainers!"

    Paranoia. Fear. Betrayal. The opposite of Leon's usual diplomatic approach, a drastic shift in policy which would cause a great shift in the realm.

    Shift was about to go down.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter LV – He that is without justification among us.
  • Threadmarks


    • 34th of Summer, 5859
    Earlywatch Estate, Outskirts of Casamonu    ​

    Nominally, it was a quiet summer day outside of the Earlywatch estate. It was a quiet day in general for most of Gemeinplatz, like many other days in the rural areas. Some birds chirped, some grass rustled, and every human person got to work in order to fulfill their obligations to their lord. Whether it be the lowliest peasants walking to the fields in order to produce grain to pay their exorbitant taxes, servants waking up to serve the local lord or the local lord waking up to serve another lord above them. A pyramid, from top to bottom, where the bottom makes all and the top takes all. Like all pyramids however, or any Euclidian geometric shape for that matter, everything collapses if the bottom is removed, and the top part would be right to worry if they suddenly had their slaves planning to topple them down to the bottom (or the grave).

    A group of people, belonging somewhere a bit further down from the bottom of the pyramid, were on their way to enact the orders of someone very high up on the pyramid. A couple of professional soldiers, a rare breed in Gemeinplatz, from Count Leon's retinue were riding on their horses towards the Earlywatch estate.

    ​

    Compared to the disorganized and ragtag nature of levied troops or hired adventurers, these men exuded an aura of know-how on how to fight. They were covered in full plate, mostly iron while some of the fancier gents could afford steel, shining bright like a humanoid disco ball. To increase the effectiveness of "awe" in their "shock-and-awe" tactics, these cavalrymen also had long skirts of the highest quality silk, those floating around as their horses trotted forwards to their destination. They hadn't forgotten about their helmets either, all of them having some sort of plume that also showed off the count's wealth. Most of them, like any good cavalryman, carried lances and shield into battle, while some of the more skilled ones hired from Eastern Gemeinplatz carried bows on horseback. These men could easily defeat if they were to somehow face every adventurer in Northern Gemeinplatz at once, except for the otherworlders whom oft had BS cheat-skills which could smite these poor (or wealthy) sods down.

    Luckily, for the retainers at least, they'd be facing local Gemeinplatzers. If things went well, they wouldn't have to face anyone at all. Having any sort of faceoff could lead to casualties, which meant a loss in lives, and a loss in lives meant a loss in material, and a loss in material wasn't a thing that the count (or anyone else for that matter) liked. The leader of these men, one Sir Korvus Jr., son of Korvus Sr., would have also loved to report that he had managed to execute the operation flawlessly without any casualties. He had high hopes, and a scout returning to him could see Sir Korvus have a slight smile on his face. Unfortunately, the scout would have to wipe that smirk off his face as scouts tended to do to their superiors with their untimely reports. "Sir, the men of Earlywatch have already assembled at the gate of their estate. They seem ready to meet us in combat, sir."

    Sir Korvus looked up at the heavens, towards where the Divine would be supposedly watching over him. It seemed that they had been spotted already, not surprising that the Earlywatch family would also be exercising caution. They had most likely scouts of their own circling the area, looking for any sizable military formations like the one Sir Korvus was commanding. "The gate? We're assaulting a minor estate; we should be able to simply jump over the fence and flank them easily."

    "I was talking about the gate of the estate's mansion itself, sir. They've huddled inside the main building, and have troops overlooking from the windows." The scout had to pause, unsure whether he should relay one last piece of information. "…one of my men were killed by a stray bolt of lightning that came from them."

    "The Earlywatch killed one of yours?" Killing one of the count's men was a pretty open act of rebellion, even if it was done in self-defense. Now Baha had less of a chance to be given a lenient sentence, though he had already exhausted most of his chance by "collaborating" with the fugitives.

    Sir Korvus hurried his men onwards, intending to apprehend Baha as soon as possible. He hoped that they'd to the reasonable thing and give up when faced with such overwhelming forces. The estate's mansion slowly came into view, the fields around it appearing to have been stripped bare of anything lootable. No peasants were in sight, the poor souls having fled inside upon hearing rumors of a cavalry force approaching them. There were no people in sight except for the men of Sir Korvus, who now awkwardly stood outside the mansion while waiting for orders to be given.

    One brave man from the mansion, his hands raised upwards and himself clearly unarmed, approached the mass of soldiers outside. A small group of mages surrounding Sir Korvus hit him with a few rounds of magic draining spells before he was allowed to approach further. "Good morning to you, good sirs." The messenger took off his hat and bowed in respect to the noble men in front of him. "Sir Baha Earlywatch would like to know what or whom we owe your visit to?" He already actually had the answer to "who" considering the retainers bore the arms of the duke, but asking that was necessary for politeness' sake.

    "We're here to apprehend Sir Baha Earlywatch on orders of His Excellency Count Leon Satō-Wang of Casamonu. He has committed against crimes against the commonwealth of this realm by colluding with fugitives, and committed an open act of rebellion against his liege by murdering one of his men in cold blood." replied Sir Korvus to the messenger. "His Excellency has promised to show leniency to your liege if he is to come out without showing further resistance."

    Unfortunately, the messenger had already been given strict orders on how to respond, and he cared not for Sir Korvus' promise of leniency. "We appreciate the count's generosity in giving my liege leniency for what His Excellency claims is such a grave crime, but Sir Baha absolutely will not hand himself over on such misguided and false charges against him. My liege pleads for His Excellency to keep calm, consider his misguided notions, and remember his duties to his vassals as a liege."

    Even more unfortunately, Sir Korvus didn't exactly have any choice on skirting around the strict orders given to him either. He cared not for the messenger's seemingly amicable words. "No matter what Sir Baha believes, we've received an absolute order from His Excellency. My men are not to leave until we've fulfilled that order."

    "I understand, sir." Everything had went as expected for both sides: a diplomatic stalemate formed from absolute orders. "Have a good day." Both men saluted each other before the messenger made his way back to the mansion. It was a polite conversation after all, as polite as a conversation between two sides who were planning on murdering each other could reasonably be, though that's par for the course for the upper-classes who'd stab each other in the back with a wide grin on their faces. Stabbing each other in the front required an even wider grin, and some flowery language to soften the impact.

    With the messenger safely back in his mansion and negotiations concluded, Sir Korvus now had to consider what he had to do next. He had obviously expected for Sir Baha's men to surrender immediately upon seeing the finest men of Count Leon, so his plans sort of ended right at apprehending Sir Baha and returning home. The commander took out his binoculars, sold to him by the company of a certain otherworlder named "Kim", and zoomed in to the mansion which stood far away. He could see an armed soldier behind every window, and a wall of shields and spears behind the gate that served as the entrance to the mansion. Entering such a fortified position would be difficult, even for the finest men of the count. Korvus would have sufficed by threatening to burn the building down, if not for the fact that the mansion was made out of nonflammable brick. Either he had to commit to a deadly assault or…

    "Men! Prepare for a siege." He had enough to blockade the mansion, and such a small place would most likely not have an extensive stockpile of food or water to last them. The cavalrymen got into position around the mansion, getting off their horses and beginning to set up camp. Sir Baha's men didn't have any obvious means of viable counterattack, save for occasionally taking a potshot. Sir Korvus waited another hour while watching his men set simple earthen fortifications which'd surround the mansion. He expected that Sir Baha might surrender now that they had shown a willingness to siege him down, but that didn't happen either.

    The petty lord seemed to be stubborn in not letting go easily, which was quite the annoyance. Most lords would have turned themselves in hopes of getting lenience, which they'd almost always get. The execution of a nobleman was a pretty rare occurrence, Sir Korvus estimated that Baha might get exiled out of the county at worst if he had just surrendered. Something seemed fishy to the commander, about Sir Baha showing so much resistance, but he couldn't exactly turn around from here and do his own thing.

    The best Sir Korvus could do now was send a scout over to inform His Excellency Count Leon that they were laying siege to the estate, and ask him if he had any further orders. That he did, and as the scout disappeared into the sunset, Sir Korvus got off from his own horse and prepared for a short, simple siege.

    Or, to be more accurate, something that should have been a short and simple siege…
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Ah yes sieges, the bane of every millitary commander from the start to the end of time
    "WHY DOES IT TAKE 15 FUCKKIIING TURNS TO SIEGE A SHITTY FISHING VILLAGE!"
    "WE HAVE NO FOOD, EAT THE CIVILIANS! YAY- wait wat"
     
    Chapter LVI – He that is without a defense against us.
  • Threadmarks


    • 39th of Summer, 5859
    Libertycave, Mount Curry    ​

    Textiles: They're an old human tradition from the Neolithic to the John Brownitic. Getting a fresh pair of trousers, whether these trousers be from the pelt of the long-extinct mammoth or the long-extant silkworm, is a time-honored tradition that is most likely to continue as long as trousers are in fashion. Then the next thing will be fashionable until trousers are back in fashion until they aren't and so on and so forth as the cycle of fashion continues forward, backwards, sometimes upwards and then downwards. A cycle of fashion which, no matter which universe one finds oneself in, one can find easily whether it be in the hair of a fashionable macaroni in Great Britain or the broad cuffs of a fugitive slave in Libertycave.

    "I finished a shirt here, cross that one off!"

    On the order of the freemen, little Tater erased a line from the tally of clothes orders. It was a simple system they had set up in a newly constructed mud hut: an illustration of the item, and tally marks next to it to mark how much was needed. Brown had tried to give the freemen a crash course on how to write numbers the earthling way, and some had actually learned quickly enough to write every number they might need, but tally marks were universal enough to be understood by everyone.

    Understanding was especially important due to the newly freed slaves from the plantations, some of them had been recently brought over to Gemeinplatz and didn't know the language. Most of them had stayed, not wanting to set out for freedom in a land they knew nothing about. Communication through hand gestures were good enough to get these men working on the simplest of tasks; it didn't take much to hand someone a spear and tell them how to swing it around. A similar thing had happened with the textile work, the new recruits were already at work in the "clothes shack".

    The clothes shack was, as it's less-than-grand title suggested clear as day, a shack. Small, cramped, yet surprisingly functional. It was part of the new generation of mud huts in Libertycave, the generation with actual wooden supports and pillars to hold it together. The floor was made of fired brick covered with "pillows" made out of straw and wool. Light only came through a hole at the top and small frames constructed out of wood. These windowless frames were only possible thanks to a combination of the ransomed tools and newly forged copper nails. Productivity had increased severalfold ever since the freemen were able to see themselves while indoors. On other bright news, the rate of sore behinds had decreased somewhere around 97.8% after the freemen began placing textiles like linen on the hard grounds they sat and napped at. For the first time in a while, old Brown had woken up without feeling like his spine was a lost cause. What seemed like a simple delivery of textiles had ended up upping the morale of the men by a margin greater than one might initially assume.

    "Boot's done, cross it!"

    Tater erased yet another line from the tally that sat next to an image of a boot. Unlike construction, which almost all slaves had no experience in, tailoring was a skill that almost everybody in Gemeinplatz had dabbled in whether they were under chains or under the delusion of thinking they were free under their lords. Mass clothes production was a part of industrial society and its consequences, and the people of Gemeinplatz didn't have the luxury of emptying their wallets for designer shirts. Professional tailors only existed in the urban areas, the urban areas in which a majority of people in an agrarian society don't reside in. Peasants often made their own clothes, which was true for slaves as well. Libertycave had quickly gotten rid of its population of shirtless people, which was a plus if this story was ever to be adopted in a family friendly fashion for television.

    With the most necessary clothes made, some of the more fashionable freemen had even begun attempts at imitating the high fashion of the urban elite, adding embroidered cuffs and frills on their outfits. Brown and Tubman didn't agree with this unchristian show of vanity, but the people here were free, as the title of "freemen" implied, to decorate their clothes as they wanted.

    Some minds were on a more correct track however, those minds working on making "armor". A layer of stuffing filled with hair and scrap textiles, sandwiched between two layers of linen or wool made an effective enough gambeson for the military of Libertycave. Not was this armor decently protective in combat, but it'd also protect one against the cold elements whenever the dreadful winter came to visit. With this development, the most capable warriors of Libertycave had slowly distinguished themselves with the gambeson they were given, and with their distinguishment came organized training.

    "One two three, one two three… Good, you're not breaking your lines!" shouted Ayomide. She now looked the part of a proper warrior, the clothes stolen from the late mine owner being replaced by thick gambeson. Her once bare head was now crowned by the steel helmet (and former bowl) from the very late Watanabe Generico. A company of spearmen followed her from behind, doing their best to maintain cohesion in their march. The former waitress wasn't the most experienced in military leadership, and Brown would usually be the one doing the training, but Captain Ayomide took over whenever Captain Brown was off doing the many tasks he busied himself with. Making the man train to walk together in a straight line wasn't the hardest to attempt. Ayomide knew not why such choreography would ever be useful, she thought that scattering behind some trees and pelting their enemies with spears was good enough. Still, the old man seemed to be experienced in martial matters much more than her, so the catgirl could only trust Brown that he knew what he was doing…

    …probably.

    Ayomide's company reached an empty square in the middle of the newly establishing town of Libertycave, the freemen watching the soldiers of the League of Gileadites do their rounds.

    "Halt!"

    The soldiers did as ordered by Ayomide, forming a line of spears that was two ranks deep. This was about as deep as they could go before the ranks at the bank risked skewering their comrades at the front with their current setup of weaponry. The men at the front had been already issued shields, though it'd probably take a thousand witnesses to call these "five planks held together by copper nails" a shield. These would, at their best, serve to give an illusion of safety to the troops.

    "Let us square up!"

    Brown had also insisted on making the men practice this weird maneuver, where the men would enter into formation to form a square that was empty in the middle. This was much harder than it sounded, and it took a good three minutes before the men had pushed each other into an acceptable shape. Shielded men were at the front, with the unshielded spear-throwers standing on the back. This was (according to old Brown) meant to counter cavalry, a factor which everyone in Gemeinplatz knew almost from birth to fear. Those who could afford to go on a horse were the wealthy, usually noblemen, who could also afford training and equipment. Seeing such well-trained, well-armed men charging towards you on horseback was enough to break the morale of any army unprepared to deal with them. Cavalry wasn't that big of a concern atop a mountain, horses are famously bad at climbing mountains unless they're a special breed of horse developed by Bethesda, but they'd become a big concern at the flatland below. Horses, intelligent enough to understand that running towards sharp objects wasn't a good idea, would refuse to run into the wall of armed men in the square which would allow the spear throwers at the back to target the cavalrymen… in theory at least. The reality was a confused mess of men making a shape that looked something like a square if Ayomide squinted hard enough.

    "Okay, you're dismissed for today." Ayomide couldn't help but heave a sigh as the mass of men dissolved. Making men march in a square? What kind of weird fantasies was the old man having? Not even divine intervention could make such a big mass of man walk in a straight line, let alone a whole square. The catgirl captain found a nearby rock to seat herself on, her backside being cushioned by the thick layers of gambeson. All she wanted to do was skewer some slavers, the spear in her hand was twitching around to confirm that fact, not conduct choreography exercises. She was unlike Tubman or Brown, and like many other freemen in Libertycave her mind couldn't comprehend a world where their goals were accomplished and they were truly free. Hence, most of them didn't have any long-term plans beyond simple survival. What geometric shapes, a square that was definitely non-donut shaped, had to do with survival wasn't exactly clear.

    Ayomide's break was suddenly interrupted by someone calling for him, that someone being famous slimeslayer, experienced leatherworker and radical abolitionistier John Brown. The catgirl looked over to where he was and pinched her nose to close it once she realized where Brown was standing at. She slowly marched over to Brown, breathing in from her mouth as to not smell the dung-laden leather being processed by the old man's new disciples. "What is it that you need, old man?" Lines of leather, standing in attention like soldiers, were doing their best to breach Ayomide's nose through their pungent smell.

    Brown took out a processed bear pelt from the rack, holding it towards Ayomide. She jumped a few steps back, prompting the old man to look a bit frustrated. "Young lady, it is simply a pelt."

    "Yes, it's simply a pelt. One that reeks of dung." She looked up from the reeking pelt to see Brown. "So, what's the matter?"

    "This is a replacement pelt for your old one, that's what's the matter. I haven't seen you with it for a long time." After that, Ayomide couldn't bring herself to refuse the pelt as the old man placed it in her one arm (the other one was still busy pinching her own nose). "Did you lose it during the battle?"

    "I… lost it during a battle, yes. Thank you, old man." Ayomide had been feeling a bit cold ever since she had donated her pelt to a good cause.

    "Be more careful with those, we don't have infinite resources. Being wasteful is a sin too, young lady, and you better keep that in mind." Brown was about to give further lessons, though his lessons were not to be as one of the leatherworkers called out to him for help. "Be seeing you, young lady!" The old turned back and raced to help the freemen.

    Ayomide was once again left alone with a stinking bear pelt on her hands. It'd be a while before she had the courage to actually put the thing on herself. So would the freemen have a while before they had the courage to leave the mountain, unless something big was to happen and stir up events on the flatlands…
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter LVII – Their army is marching on.
  • Threadmarks


    • 41st of Summer, 5859
    Earlywatch Estate, Outskirts of Casamonu    ​

    It was supposed to be a simple mission. March the retinue onward; apprehend the traitorous duke as ordered by Count Leon.

    Seven days had passed since the beginning of his special military deployment however, and Sir Korvus had yet to see even a brief glimpse of the man he was supposed to be looking for. Korvus was a clever man, clever enough to smell something fishy from a mile away, but his pleas for tactical retreat had been denied by his liege. All he got was "How dare you call yourself a man when you cower away from a bunch of idiots in a mansion?" and replies akin to that written in a flowery, overly-polite language which managed to be more insulting than actual profanity.

    Korvus could do nothing but wait now, resting his backside softly on the wool cushion which had been graciously carried all the way here by his retainers. His idle rest was interrupted by one of his retainers entering the tent "Sir, your steward has sent us a message. Apparently the Shinasi household in the village have been lagging behind in their taxes."

    "They have? As always, those revolting…" Korvus coughed to give himself pause before he ended up saying something overtly uncouth about his least favorite group of subjects. "I'll deal with them properly when I return."

    "On that topic of that sir, when will you be making a return?" The retainer looked at the absurd scene outside the tent: a group of the finest soldiers in Gemeinplatz surrounding a mansion without making any attempts to attack.

    "My plans were for a prompt return, but things haven't turned out as planned." Korvus took a look outside as well, the count's soldiers looking as idle as him. "The count doesn't want me to lose men if possible, so we've cut off the mansion's water pipes and we're waiting for the people inside to surrender any moment now." To be truthful, he had been waiting for them to surrender "any moment now" for the last seven days.

    "But sir, they should have exhausted all their water supplies by now." The retainer wasn't a military commander or a siege expert, but even he could see that a small mansion filled with a lot of soldiers should have been having issues by now.

    "That's what I have been thinking for a while." Korvus tapped his foot impatiently. Really, what was taking them so long? "I called for some engineers in Casamonu, along with requesting a cannon from His Excellency. We should breach the walls today at least. I doubt they will hold much more after we start pounding them."

    "Understood, sir. One last thing, your opponent has moved their emperor to E2."

    Korvus had to pause to take the last sentence sink in. "My opponent has done what?"

    "Chess sir. You were playing by post against a dwarven official who's playing white. He claims that he can beat you even if he's playing the smokecloud opening."

    "I know that it's chess, you fool! I was just appalled at him using the infamous smokecloud opening in a serious match… Move my otherworlder to H4. What does that dwarf think he's doing with me?!"

    "Yes, sir." The retainer left the tent, soon leaving the scene altogether on his horse. Sir Korvus wished he could just hop on a horse and return as well. Conducting his administration work through post wasn't working out well. He had peasants to tax, retinues to train, feasts to attend. Being made fun of some puny dwarf through chess shouldn't have been what's worrying him at this moment.

    Another retained, this one armed, entered into the tent and saluted Sir Korvus. "Sir!"

    "What is it now?" Sir Korvus had lost his nerves a bit after having been reminded of the mess he'd have to sort out after coming home.

    "It's nothing bad or trivial, sir!" replied the retainer in a hurried tone. "The cannons have arrived!"

    "Cannons? Multiple?" Sir Korvus readied himself to jump off the cushion.

    "Yes sir, two cannons, engineers and a geomancer to man them. His Excellency has been kind to us." The retainer stepped aside to let his superior pass. "They're currently outside, and are awaiting your orders sir."

    The commander finally jumped off of the cushion. "Excellent news!" He got his helmet on and fixed his hair up a bit while running outside. Sir Korvus' armor clinked and clanged while he ran, alerting all the soldiers in the presence who had to take off their helmets and salute him. They had to stifle a laugh while watching the unathletic sixtysomething run across the field like a madman. The retainer guided him to a small group of people who had gathered around an even smaller pair of cannons. They all wore bright yellow vests, showing that they were men of the count of Casamonu.

    The fanciest-looking engineer out of the group saluted Korvus, taking off his hat and lightly bowing down. "Sir Korvus, we're ready to fire whenever you order us to. We've already been briefed on the situation. The cannons have already been sighted to fire at the mansion, sir." He patted one of the cannons next to him, which stood on a wooden carriage meant to be dragged by horses. The cannon was quite small, being quite thin and around half the length of an adult man.

    ​

    "Of course, there is no reason to delay any further." Korvus looked at the massive tubes of bronze in front of him. He didn't want to even begin imagining how expensive it must have been to cast these. They'd be quite expensive, even in a place with abundant copper like Casamonu.

    The head engineer motioned Korvus to stand aside, and the rest of the men began dispersing from the front of the cannon. All of the men who operated the cannon had woolen muffs to protect their ears from the sound of the heavens splitting apart. The head engineer took out a muff and handed it over to Sir Korvus. Korvus wore it without hesitation. He knew how loud these machines of war could be.

    The head engineer turned to his crew. "Are you ready?" They all nodded and raised their thumbs up. "Begin loading then!"

    ​

    The process of loading began with shoving the gunpowder inside the barrel. A gunner carried a bag of gunpowder into the opening of the cannon, leaving it there for another crew member to ram inside with a long rod. In the meanwhile, the geomancer brought by the team formed a larger roundish rock to be used as ammunition. Forming such a small formation of rock was pretty easy for a geomancer, though it'd quickly become tiring after a few volleys. The cannonball made out of rock was shoved inside the cannon as well along with some hay to pad and stabilize it. Lastly the time came for firing the cannon itself. Another gunner holding a stick with a burning hemp cord at the tip of it was responsible for this part. All the other gunners, a crew of 4, ran away from the cannon, closing their ears even if they had their muffs. All the soldiers near the cannon did the same upon seeing that the cannon was about to fire. The burning cord was inserted into a very small hole in the back of the cannon, making contact with the volatile bag of gunpowder which had been inserted before…

    BOOM!

    The heavens split in twain, and a great black cloud of dust suddenly covered the field from the two cannons firing simultaneously. Two great balls of stone, flying so quickly as to not be followable by the human eye, made quick contact with the walls of the mansion like a pyromancer's knife through butter. Castles and other fortifications would have thick stone walls packed with earth to protect against such an attack, yet the thin walls of the old mansion were not made with sieges in mind. The speeding balls cut through the bricks like a pyromancer's knife through butter, making its way to pommel the men behind the walls. Many men were injured or killed just with one stone making its way through them without stopping, the cannonballs jumping like a skipping stone on a lake before it came out of the other side of the mansion and landed on a field of wheat. Without giving their enemy a chance to recover, the gunners got to work on loading the next volley.

    ​

    In the meanwhile, the men of Sir Korvus were not standing idle. He had concentrated his forces towards where the cannons had made a breach, the men preparing to assault the mansion after their defenses had been sufficiently weakened. Korvus didn't intend to give any quarter after Sir Baha hadn't surrendered after all this time. A few hand cannons went off from Korvus', the men inside the mansion unable to retaliate against the superior range of firearms. None of these shots managed to make their way to their intended targets, there was no chance of that from this range with such inaccurate weaponry, but it didn't hurt to shoot in the general direction of your enemy.

    Sir Korvus was watching the scene from the back, letting the men handle their business mostly on their own. A small smile had crept upon his face thinking about the fact that he wouldn't have to sit under that tiny tent anymore. He suddenly felt someone's finger tapping on his back. Turning around, he found the retainer he had sent away before for chess. Korvus had to take off his muffs to hear him in the cacophony of war.

    The retainer could barely speak straight, and beads of sweat were flowing like a river from his ghostly face. "Sir! Sir, you must hear this! I was attacked by another army on the way to your estate!"

    "W-Wha-" Korvus' surprise was interrupted by another volley of cannons firing. He almost fell to the ground from the noise, his head spinning and his ears ringing. "Argh!.." The retainer and Korvus threw around a round of profanity while recovering their senses.

    "Ahem, what do you mean an enemy army?! How many?!" Korvus began asking questions with the speed of a running dragon on a flat plain. "Whose men are they?! Where are they coming from?!"

    "Sir, some of them were wearing the colors of Sir Baha, while the rest wore the colors of various local lords in Casamonu. They were heading towards here, coming from the opposite side from right…" The retainer pointed towards a hill that sat on the opposite side from the breached wall. "…here?"

    Sir Korvus could see, even with his bare eyes, flags and men on horseback standing on the hill. Reinforcements had arrived just in time… for Sir Baha.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter LVIII – Their ambush is proceeding on.
  • Threadmarks
    • ​

    Bugles call, the drums rage… or they would if not for the fact that this was supposed to be an ambush. Anybody that had more than three brain cells could see that sounding bugles wasn't productive to covert operations.

    Sir Baha was a man that had a couple more brain cells than three, and he had made preparations which amounted to more than not sounding bugles. He was clever enough to see that the blame would eventually fall upon him, the only person who had something to gain from informing the slaves. He was also clever enough to not sit like a duck and wait for his fate, for fate could be changed easily enough when enough palms were greased and enough men were pleased. Now he and a sizeable contingent, the exact number unknown due to how the men were so suddenly mustered. Atop his horse on the top of the hill he watched the men of the count who expected him to be in the mansion.

    "They must be tired and frustrated." commented Sir Baha atop his high horse. His ever-faithful servant Ted was right next to him of course, listening to his liege's confident monologue. Baha had asked his servant to take notes well so that this battle could be later recorded into history. "Waiting to apprehend me, wasting days upon days… Alas, they have waited to no avail!" He had practiced speech ever since he had flown from the mansion. Most of his retainers found it cheesy, but they weren't exactly going to object to the guy who was their patron. Standing by silently, sometimes nodding sometimes cheering, was enough to please such lieges.

    "Indeed, my lord." replied the old and somewhat reliable Ted "We shall march on to… to… Wait, what were we fighting for again?"

    "…we found a good reason when we were planning. Didn't you take notes on that?"

    Ted rummaged his pockets upon his liege's reply, finding a scrounged-up paper deep in the backs of his back pocket. "Umm… Against… Against the tyranny of Count Leon… Ahem, we shall march on to fight against the tyranny of Count Leon!" The men cheered upon realizing that this is the part they were supposed to cheer at.

    "Take the part about us looking up notes out of the historical records, definitely scratch that part out." Sir Baha cleared his throat, glad to have ensured his legacy. From an unknown petty lord in Casamonu, he'd become the brave warrior who fought against the tyranny of his lord who tried to arbitrarily arrest him! "Yes, against the tyranny of that slimy, perfidious, rapacious, darkskin-loving incompetent buffoon named Count Leon! Let us march forth!" The men cheered, for real this time as they were finally off to fight. Swords were raised, lances couched and stirrups secured as the men marched on once more.

    Sir Korvus wasn't standing idle while this all happened however. He had two guns, one on his right arm and the other on his left arm. Other than his biceps, he also had two cannons which were now pointed towards the charging men. Sir Baha had perhaps charged with a bit too much optimism; his cavalry was tightly packed together like pins in a bowling alley. The cannonballs made out of stone moved like a bowling balls, knocking the charging pins down with great force.

    The horses which were left intact were scared, scattering wildly around the field. This left the inaccurate and slow-loading cannons quite useless, and the dismounted men of Sir Korvus hadn't yet had the sufficient time to get into any sort of formation. A formation of sheer confusion and chaos was more efficient than no formation at all however, the chaotic cavalrymen of Sir Baha somehow managed to make their way back to Sir Korvus' men and swarm them.

    Most of the dismounted men had left their lances with their horses as it was an unwieldy weapon to fight with, all they had left were their ranged weaponry or swords which were too short to fight against charging cavalry. Their expensive armor proved useless as men were simply trampled under the hooves of the panicked horses. It was a big mess of horses and men, anyone who was mounted attacking anyone who was dismounted. Confused men from Sir Baha attacked their comrades who had fallen from their horses, confused men from Sir Korvus thought those men were allies, and all in all everyone was confused as to what the hell was happening and who was winning or losing…

    …or if any of the two sides were managing to do anything at all.

    Eventually, the moshpit of soldiers began dispersing as tired and wounded men retreated. It was hard to identify each other while in the heat of battle, but all soldiers carried the colors of their lords who allowed for identification when one was calmer. Men of Sir Korvus and Sir Baha slowly condensed around their allies once more, both sides nonverbally agreeing to a truce. There were two lines of troops who opposed each other: Sir Korvus' men were still stood closer to the Earlywatch estate while the men of Sir Baha were further away. A pile of the dead and gravely wounded stood between the two lines, screams and shouts sounding from this pile.

    These two lines seemed to have an equal number of men in total, and both sides were unwilling to charge each other if not an as-of-yet unaccounted factor: the men in the mansion. They were battered, a bit thirsty, and most importantly, raring to get back at the gits who had been sieging them down for the last week. Opportune time had arrived now, and the men in the mansion poured out like air from a deflating balloon. Sir Baha joined them in the charge as well, sandwiching the men of Sir Korvus like a delicious meat-meat-and-meat sandwich meeting together

    What was once certain victory for Sir Korvus had become certain victory for Sir Baha.

    "Lay down your weapons, we surrender!" shouted out Sir Korvus. His men obliged in dropping their weapons and kneeling on the ground, which was the noble way to surrender in Gemeinplatz.

    Sir Baha's men halted as well upon receiving the surrender, for hurting nobility and their retainers after a surrender wasn't an accepted move. Plus, ransoming these men would net Sir Baha a nice sum of cash, so killing them would be a big financial loss.

    "You have… fought well, sir." Sir Korvus had to greet his new captor upon his approach. Being politely humble was a good idea when you were dealing with someone who now had a good reason to decouple you head from your shoulders. "We beg for your mercy." He handed his sword over to Sir Baha in another traditional gesture of surrender.

    "Yes, yes, I'll be merciful and whatnot." Sir Baha received the sword and immediately handed it over to Ted. This sword was to go to his collection and commemorate the day he had won a victory in battle. Such pride did he have in having done something for once in his life, something that was noteworthy anyways. His only significant accomplishment in life had been inheriting land at some point, which was a thing that countless people had managed to do in history.

    Participating in a battle was a whole lot less common, a whole lot more prestigious, noteworthy even depending on the battle. Today would be a noteworthy day indeed, just not in the way that Sir Baha had intended.

    ​

    "'It's victory that's so bitter yet… so mellow?' Wait, how did that poem go again?"

    "It's victory that's so bitter yet so sweet', sir."

    "Yes, let's go with that."

    The ever-faithful Ted was having an ever more faithful conversation with his master, making do with sweet poetry which was so purple it'd make the Roman emperors cry out in jealousy. They had seized Sir Korvus' tent, along with his sword, and now they were seizing his ears as he had to watch the men write the most self-aggrandizing poetry that the land of Gemeinplatz had ever heard. Poetry that bad might have constituted a war crime if not for the fact that the concept of a war crime hadn't been invented yet.

    "Okay… I think we've got enough lines." declared Sir Baha, leaning back at the cushion on which his enemy once lay. Hurting them physically was a big no, but hurting them psychologically was a big yes. "We'll write much, much more once we're at our destination."

    "We will indeed, sir." Ted closed the small notebook he had been holding in his hand. Sir Baha wasn't exactly rich enough to hire a professional writer for his memoirs, so poor Teddy would have to do for now. "What shall we write about?"

    "Oh, how about the part where we baited the count's men into a long siege? The part where we waited until they dragged out the cannons so we could take them for ourselves?" Sir Baha was practically bursting with sheer excitement "Many parts, Ted! Ready yourself to write about the descriptions of cannon fire during our next siege, maybe steal some descriptions if you've got any books containing them."

    "'A bronze beast, spewing the fires… of death? I'll have to work on that one…"

    "We've got a short journey ahead of us, Ted, better get your prose refined by then."

    "Yes, sir."

    The night marched on, the slightly grand machinations of a Sir Baha marching on to… who knows where. Sir Baha certainly didn't know where he was marching on to.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter LIX – Their lingo is discussed upon.
  • Threadmarks


    • 42nd of Summer, 5859
    Outskirts of Libertycave, Mount Curry    ​

    "My legs, o' my poor legs… O' gods above and below bring me help…"

    "Sir… Mister Watanabe, we've only done one round."

    Shinasi and Watanabe, the newly recruited otherworlder, were doing their rounds around the outskirts of Libertycave as they now usually did early in the morning. Compared to Shinasi, a robust bloke who had spent a lot of his time either working on the fields or adventuring, Watanabe looked like a twig who had put on a shirt and wig.

    "Wait a second, I need a break." said Watanabe, his bum making contact with the earth. He immediately regretted his decision upon realizing that the ground was, as one expected from such a rainy environment, wet. The poor man couldn't reverse his poor decision however, and he had to gaze awkwardly towards Shinasi who was wondering just what the hell the otherworlder was doing. "Uhm… So, what's with you referring to me as a 'sir'? I don't look much like nobility; I'd assume I look far from it." Watanabe had to resort to small chat to preserve some sense of normalcy in this situation.

    "You see sir- Ahem, mister, mister. You see Mr. Watanabe, it feels weird when I refer to one of your… kind with a familiar form of address." replied Shinasi. It felt like he was walking on explosive eggshells while speaking to an otherworlder.

    "You don't seem to have problems speaking to old Brown, as far as I've seen."

    "That much is true, but the captain… How do I put it, he looks pretty similar to the people you find here. You… You…" Shinasi mumbled the same thing a couple more times with his finger spinning around on the air while thinking. "You know, you look very different along with some of the other otherworlders of your kind.

    "'Other otherworlders of your kind'? Ooh. I get it…" Watanabe didn't look to be all too pleased with this realization. "I guess I do look a bit different compared to you people, don't I? From my perspective, the odd-looking ones are you all."

    "I'd say that people arriving from another world is a thing that's even stranger than us living over here." Shinasi planted his spear onto the earth before settling himself on a rock which was significantly less muddy, and most importantly, less damaging to the integrity of his pants. "Arriving here and bringing strange ideas like 'ememoharpiji'…"

    "Emu-emu-oo-arupiiji? Em… If I remember my English classes correctly," which, for the record, Watanabe would rarely remember his English classes "you're spelling out the word M-M-O-R-P-G?"

    "Yes! That word!" Shinasi suddenly lunged forward, turning his face squarely towards his comrade "I asked the old man about it, and he didn't know it. Do you know what an ememoharpiji is?"

    "He comes from a very different time as far as I can tell from our few encounters. No surprise that he can't understand such a thing…" Watanabe took a pause to formulate a way to relate such a modern concept to such a pre-modern man. "So, do you know what a… pasakon is? Or a konpyūta?"

    "No idea on pasakon… Kon… Are you talking about a kompüter?" Shinasi's face turned into a scathing scowl "Those damned… things."

    "'Thing'?" Now it was Watanabe's turn to be excited. "So, you're talking about computers as a machine, not a person doing computation?"

    "No, I detest computers, those tariff-levying tax-sniffing lax-working gits. I refuse to accept them as human." Shinasi punched his fists together, as if he was crushing all computers under his grip.

    "That's not a nice thing to say, young man." Shinasi and Watanabe turned in tandem to find John Brown watching them from the back.

    "Captain!" Shinasi got up to salute Brown, but the old man motioned him to stand down and not bother with it. Brown had an unprocessed pelt hung around his shoulder; it was clear that he hadn't planned to make a stop here.

    "Do not salute mortal men, the only one who deserves such respect is the Lord. Even then, saluting the Lord like that would be a very odd form of worship." He looked at Watanabe, who had suddenly gone silent from the surprise. "Do go on gentlemen, I only wish to listen in on the interesting conversation you were having."

    "Aa… Alright." Watanabe's nose wasn't liking the odors it was receiving from the unprocessed pelt. He did his best to keep a straight face while talking. "I was about to tell Shinasi, moving on from his opinions on computing as a profession, that the type of computers I was talking about was very different."

    "Different computers? How could that be, young fellow?" Brown found himself a seat as well, sitting on the rock next to Shinasi. Clearly, he wasn't here just to listen.

    "So… Oh, how do I explain this to you?" Watanabe paused to take a deep breath, this being his seventh deep breath in the last ten minutes. "Okay, so imagine a machine. You know those, right? Imagine a machine that's so complex, it can solve mathematical equations just like- No, better than a computer. A machine that can compute better than a computer, that's a computer."

    "A machine that can compute better than a computer is called a computer?" Shinasi felt his brain being fried from the word salad he had been faced with. "I think I kind of get the concept, but I don't get why they'd be called the same thing… Call it something sensical, like a 'computing press' or something."

    "You could call it an 'electronic computer' to distinguish it, but nobody used that anymore since non-electronic computers were completely replaced."

    "'Electronic'? These wondrous machines run on electricity?!" For a 19th-century man like Brown, electricity was still a pretty mystical force, one which was even the topic of contemporary science fiction (like in Frankenstein, published in 1818). He had seen telegraphs using electricity of course, along with arc lamps (incandescent light bulbs were a few decades away from him) used for lighting the streets. To think of electricity making machines capable of computation… That was a pretty wild thought, to say the least. "With devices like that, the second millennium should be a utopia!.. Is it? How was life for you?" Having seen Sir Jacob made him pause that thought on a utopic millennium.

    "Oh, how should I put it…" Should I disappoint this poor old man? I don't want to, but... "…it's been awful, for me at least. Living from paycheck to paycheck, stuck in the smallest cubicles my boss could legally put in, with coworkers who thought their asses were the most precious in all of Japan, it was loads of fun. I'd have rather lived a century before… or, well, two centuries before as I don't want to end up in the Second World War, where one didn't have to deal with all this crap."

    "Watch your tongue young man, spare that last profane word from us all who are currently living under the work of Providence." With his obligatory warning done, old Brown could return back on to their topic. "Nothing has changed, young man? Nothing at all?"

    "Well, there are very fast trains that run on magnets."

    "…and?"

    "And… To be honest, I don't know history very well." Watanabe's knowledge of history was comprised of popular culture, as he himself was quickly finding out.

    "Then, young man, how come you can claim that the days of old are better if you know them not?"

    Having been owned by facts and logic (and, most important of all, John Brown himself), Watanabe was left without much speech in him. "Uhm… I don't know…"

    "Young man, it is not prudent to speak of matters which you have no knowledge on." Having finished his obligatory round of lecturing, Brown leaned back on his "seat". "Do go on, on the topic of MMORPGs. That is a topic I wish to know more of."

    Watanabe was happy to return to a topic which wouldn't make him look like an idiot. "Those? Well, as you might guess, people used these computation machines for entertainment."

    "Entertainment? For who, enthusiasts of math?" Computation machines, for those not in the know like Shinasi, seemed far from amusing.

    "No… Well, to be true, mathematics nerds loved computers too, but those people are not who I'm talking about. So, these computer things, they had monitors: screens which you can output elements graphically without having to draw anything yourself." Shinasi was about to interrupt, but Watanabe shot him a glance that meant "I have more to talk about, be patient you fool". "Ahem, so, you have a machine that can compute, and those computations can be turned into visuals on a monitor. You can string together these calculations and visuals to create games of sort into these devices, ones in which you play roles as characters. Then you can connect these computers on a line, hence the 'online' part, to play these games together. Connect enough computers together, and you have a massively multiplayer online roleplaying game."

    Having spent words which were clearly understandable to the modern reader, Watanabe had only done to confuse Shinasi and Brown more. Shinasi imagined a giant screen made out of magical gems shifting colors constantly to show 2D images of adventurers drawn in a very crude early medieval style. "Fire golems" and "water golems" were pretty popular tricks, where a skilled trick magician would shape the elements in the shape of a person for entertainment purposes. He had seen a few public performances of such tricks in festivals now and then, so such moving visuals weren't too hard for him to imagine.

    Brown imagined a massive screen comprised of arc lights which rapidly changed to draw visuals, this screen attached to a massive steam engine running to keep all the gears turning with workers operating levers to change the visuals. The machine had beads on the side, like an abacus, for storing all of the calculated data which the imaginary workers looked at to go on their operations. He imagined that one would have to be rich to afford owning such a machine and hiring all the workers to operate it just to play a simple game for entertainment; to think that enough people could afford it for it to become massively multiplayer… He felt like he had missed a lot with his premature death, yet Brown spared not one second to regretting his actions. If the Lord had sent him here, then he'd accept his fate and continue fighting the good fight.

    "Honestly, I'm not sure I understood much from what he just talked about. However, there is one thing I'm sure of…" Shinasi's behind departed with the rock, and his hands went for his spear. "…it's that these mountains are not going to patrol themselves. If you'll excuse me, captain."

    "You are excused, young man." Brown stood up as well. "May God grant you a safe patrol route." He went towards the direction of the tanneries, his business being far from finished. So was the business of Watanabe, whose legs ached once more as he followed Shinasi once more.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter LX – Her lingo is discussed upon.
  • Threadmarks
    • image ​

    "Adohe shelmiy Boczhe! Argh!"

    Harriet Tubman had been resting and working on the map with Kyauta, until their work was interrupted by the frustrated grunts of another woman: Dr. Raban Rabanowicz Rabanow (or, more aptly, just "Dr. Rabanowicz"). Her voice echoed in the cave they were stationed at, which had transformed from Brown's residence to something more resembling a military HQ.

    Tubman and Kyauta looked at each other, silently debating if they should stick their noses in the business of the madwoman that they were stuck with. Ever since she had come here, which hadn't been long, Rabanowicz had been doing the same thing: scribbling on her big notebook with a piece of charcoal, swinging a pendulum, planting a stick on the ground in different places and taking the measurements of its shadows, manipulating the beads of some abacus… Most of the freemen thought that she was doing some sort of black magic, but Rabanowicz insisted that she was "engaging in a healthy bout of natural philosophy", whatever that meant.

    Suddenly, Rabanowicz shouted again "Finally, it's finished!"

    Tubman had gotten too curious to be silent, so she couldn't help but blurt out a "Get what, doctor?" in response.

    "The planet we're standing on is as heavy as around ten to the power of twenty-five Standard Cabbages."

    "…what?" said Harriet Tubman.

    "And the gravitational acceleration is eighteen half-feet per second."

    "…what?" said Kyauta.

    "Lastly, from all those, we can infer that this planet has an average density of around twenty point seven SC/f."

    "…what?" said John Brown, who had come to the room to talk to Tubman.

    Rabanowicz has risen up from her seat in sheer excitement, and she was making rounds around the room while talking. Her once frustrated mood had totally disappeared to make way for pure joy. "The gravitational constant given in this book was very wrong all this time! I only noticed this after having had to calculate the gravitational constant of this planet we're on instead of the one I come from." She adjusted her glasses, a common sign of incoming intellectuality which no one in the room had any idea about. Her finger was in the air as if she was giving a lecture to an auditorium full of students. "Hence, I have managed to do what I set off years ago: calculate the mass of a planet without actually having to put an entire planet on a pair of scales. Something which nobody else has done ever before, as far as I know." The room was silent, despite Rabanowicz apparently having achieved something grand.

    "That's… great, Doctor Rabanowicz." Brown didn't understand what the science folk said either, but he didn't want to be rude by dismissing her. "So, could you inform us on how we could use this information for our cause?"

    "Well, Mr. Brown… umm…" Rabanowicz's smile slowly disappeared as she tilted her head downwards and downwards, her head supported by her hands or else it'd fall off. "…hmm. Hm?" She snapped her fingers after having something finally come to her mind. "Aha! Calculating gravity is pretty important if we're going to use artillery! No?"

    Brown didn't seem all too impressed, or he was not impressed enough for his old face to clearly show it. "I do value the sciences doctor, but I'd prefer it if your effort was focused on matters more immediate to us."

    "I have notes on more immediate matters as well!" Rabanowicz flipped through her thick notebook, on a page that was filled with markings. She pushed her page full of notes right up to old Brown's nose. "See?"

    Brown took a step back to not have his nose be attacked by the overwhelming scent of musty pages. "I can see, yes, but I cannot read."

    "Oh. Excuse me, I have forgotten the fact that my writing is alien to the people of this realm. Ahem." Rabanowicz began reading out the writing on her notebook. "Copper ore, half a bucket. Odd berries that the freemen found, one-and-a-half buckets. Odd berries that the freemen found except they're green, zero buckets as it's poisonous. Weird reed from the nearby lake, two buckets…" Her notebook seemed to contain a full list of every item in Libertycave. She had mostly compiled it to see if there was anything interesting that she could catalogue or experiment with, though by the end Rabanowicz's curiosity had gotten her to note down everything regardless of how mundane it was.

    "Now, doctor, this is the sort of things we expect in Libertycave." Brown instinctively took the notebook into his own hand to read it himself, only to again realize that he couldn't read Rabanowicz's language. He let out a chuckle upon realizing his foolish mistake.

    "Right, on this front… We have been focusing all on military and production and, thanks to the hidden hand of Providence, we have been doing good on those fronts indeed. However!" He looked around the room. The map was labeled in the languages of the otherworlders (English, Japanese, Chinese and Korean) written in various scripts. On the walls, there were markings of various shape and form denoting matters which was unknown to anyone but those who marked them. Rabanowicz was using a different system of writing, Watanabe was using a different system of writing, Brown was using a different system of writing… Such a system of chaos wouldn't do for when they would be running an organization that encompassed a population larger than a bunch of people living around a cave.

    Brown borrowed a piece of chalk from the floor and began writing down the numeral system he knew of: Western Arabic numerals. 0, 1, 2, 3…7, 8, 9. "Doctor, could I borrow that abacus?" Before Rabanowicz could go back to her abacus, Brown paused her again. "One second, doctor. If there's any freemen near the cave, call them all over here. Class will be beginning soon."

    image

    45th of Summer, 5859
    Libertycave, Mount Curry    ​

    "Cough, cough… This place used to be so good before the old man filled it with chalk dust." said Ayomide, holding a fired clay tablet in her hand. Her other hand held a small piece of chalk, moving to try and copy the odd symbols written on the cave. It was nighttime, yet the cave was as bright as cave thanks to Ayomide having donated her gem for the purposes of using it as lighting. It could emanate a faint glow long enough to last the night if Ayomide imbued it with a pinch of magic.

    Next to her was the old man in question, radical abolitionist and numerical teacher John Brown. He was watching the lesson to observe how the new teacher was doing. The old man, having schooled twenty children of his own, was used to having education of even such simple concepts as numerals to take long, which was the reason he had postponed education for so long. However, as Brown found out quickly, adults learned much quicker than children, and most men had learned how to write numbers in their one or two days of education.

    There was a big difference in aptitude of course, people like Hakim and Rabanowicz had comprehended numerals in only one or two hours while some were still having trouble counting numbers up in order. Those who were left behind got tutored by the more experienced members, while the lessons in the cave went further. Now things had progressed on to arithmetic, and only three people in the cave knew how to notate it: Brown, Rabanowicz and Watanabe. Brown and Rabanowicz were busy with other duties, so Watanabe had been relieved of his patrol duty (which he couldn't even do well in the first place) and transferred over to education.

    "Now, young lady, forget not that this is perhaps the most important front we're fighting on." Brown was happy to see people training for something other than war. "We'll not be achieving a complete victory unless we heighten ourselves through education."

    "Yes, the amount of chalk built up on my lungs is already heightening." Ayomide coughed again. Her cattish senses were a tad bit too sensitive to such an environment. "I'm going to become made of chalk at this rate."

    Brown however, his nose refined by years of smelling dung and processed leather, was as calm as he always was. "We could have a classroom under open skies, if you were to find us a suitable board for the great outdoors."

    "…I'll get Bilal's folk to cook something up." Though, thinking about it further, Ayomide realized that having a lesson outdoors might be a bit hard under the rainy environment of Northern Gemeinplatz. "Maybe not. I prefer the cave of chalk to sitting under the rain."

    "We'll have a separate school building eventually. Ideally, it should be one of the first things we set up after a chapel." The old man already had a whole town blessed by the Lord in his head. "The copperworkers have already moved on to experimenting with firing bricks, the last time I heard of them. There was one among them who worked in construction in Azdavay, she gave us instructions on how to make mortar based on slime."

    "We wouldn't have anything if not for slime, those little blobs are the real ones we have to thank." Having dried the bodies of many slimes, Ayomide muttered a silent prayer of her own to the fuel of abolitionism in Gemeinplatz.

    "Indeed. Thank God for slime!" Brown quickly prayed to his Lord to thank Him for sending slime, and he made a mental note to mention slime at the next sermon he was going to give. "Truly, they are one of the greatest animals that the Our Father in Heaven sent down to this realm."

    I wouldn't call a sentient sugary blob "the greatest", but you do you, old man…

    Thus, regardless of Ayomide's unfavorable thoughts on sugary blobs, the day marched on with a load of arithmetic…
     
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    • Chapter LXI – His lingo is discussed upon.
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    • image

    45th of Summer, 5859
    City of Casamonu, Casamonu    ​

    Today was a day, one which had gone unremarkably up until now for Count Leon. He had woken up, had breakfast, hadn't brushed his teeth because dental hygiene hadn't been invented yet, and sat in his office to await any news on the siege of the Earlywatch estate.

    Oh, only if he had captured that traitorous scum by now! Leon counted on giving Baha leniency in sentencing in exchange for Baha giving him the details on where and how the fugitives operated. Then, instead of bothering to individually protect all the plantation owners angrily petitioning him, Leon would strike at the heart of darkness within Casamonu and finish this little insurrection once and for all.

    Of course, things had gone a bit pear-shaped now, with there being no report yesterday from Sir Korvus. This wasn't unusual, there previously hadn't been any reports on days where nothing of import had happened, but Leon expected a letter of gratitude for the cannons at least. Had the men of Sir Baha somehow managed to stand firm against the metal beasts spewing fire towards them? It seemed so. Maybe Sir Korvus hadn't sent him a report out of feeling shame for his failure to break the mansion's defenses. You're supposed to send reports especially when things are going bad, for Its' sake! Sir Korvus was definitely going to receive a stern lecture from Leon when he got back.

    Knock, knock! Count Leon didn't move an inch from his comfy position upon hearing the knock. He was leaning back on his sofa, boots lying on the table in a matter most unbefitting of a man of his stature. "Who is it?"

    The voice behind the door was familiar to Count Leon. "Hilmi, sir. There's a dwarven lord who wants to see you. Should I let him in now?" It was that of his servant, ever faithful unlike his uppity vassals.

    Dwarves were a whole another matter, a matter which the count would reluctantly have to deal with. Those little hairy manlets… Leon quickly fixed his posture on the sofa. "Let him in." He had received a letter from the dwarves stating that they'd send a diplomat to discuss issues, but Leon had long forgotten it due to how preoccupied his head was from all the fugitive business happening. The count didn't remember for what the dwarf wanted to meet him either.

    Before the dwarf came into the count's sight, he could already hear the dwarf's arrival from the clangs of heavy metal coming his way. Then came the dwarf themselves: encased in full steel, with a large warhammer strapped to their back. The dwarf immediately squinted their eyes upon entering the room "Could you close the curtains? My eyes aren't used to so much sunlight like you humans seem to like for some reason."

    Count Leon's servant quickly got to closing the curtains for the dwarven diplomat. The count himself began with pleasantries. "It is very nice to meet you, Sir…" He realized that he had forgotten the dwarf's name.

    "Lady Whitebeard." One could barely see the dwarf's brows furrow in anger through her flowing white hair. "Have you ever seen a dwarven man with such a well-groomed beard? I don't think so, those brutes wouldn't know what a brush is if one hit them right in their face."

    "Please, do excuse me…" Leon added a couple more words of reluctant apology to make up for his mistake. Meanwhile, his nervous eyes were focused on the giant warhammer that the small dwarf was carrying on her.

    Openly carrying around an implement of war into the presence of a noble was definitely not an acceptable practice in human etiquette. Thankfully, Hilmi had taken up the job of removing it from her. "Madame, your hammer-"

    "What's up with my hammer? Everywhere I go they want to take it away. Let it be known that one does not simply separate a dwarf from her steel, unless it is taken from her cold dead hands!" Whitebeard quickly took a seat in the room, making herself comfortable despite being in the presence of someone which, technically, was her superior. "Do you have any beer?"

    "N-No… We have wine, madame. Would you-"

    "Of course not! Human wine tastes like piss. So does your beer, but at least it's a tastier flavor of piss."

    Count Leon gazed up to the ceiling, trying to hide his annoyance. This is why he didn't like dwarves. Proud, standoffish, and without regard for nobility… A combination of all the traits he hated as a respectable member of high human society. He wondered how their society hadn't fallen into a society of barbaric anarchy with such disagreeable traits. They are like the slightly more civilized cousins of the darkskins… Very slightly. A tiny little bit. "I am quite curious as to why an esteemed dwarven gentlewoman would make her way here today."

    "Esteemed? My term is running out in a week, and I wouldn't be surprised if I'm not reelected due to having spent a big chunk of my term by wasting my time wandering on the surface world." A few grumbles came from under Whitebeard's aptly white beard. "The reason why I had such a delay is also the reason why I have made my way here."

    "Hm?" Leon was about to slam his head onto the desk the moment he realized the reason for the dwarf's visit. He had gotten tired of being asked about the fugitives by now, considering there was always some concerned git in his office yapping on about the "barbarians" coming to "end civilization" or something. Really, he didn't disagree with the fact that the fugitives were a menace to society, but he also couldn't exactly easily exterminate such a vague threat. All he knew was that the fugitives had attacked a copper mine once, and now they had begun attacking plantations. He didn't know whether there was one group, two groups, or if all slaves had simultaneously caught a severe case of hysteria. Nor did he know whether they were a large group sending smaller parties, or a small group making surgical attacks every day, or whether they were led or funded by any of his political rivals. For all he knew, Leon was currently being targeted by a conspiracy of petty landowners looking to dethrone him by creating an excuse by themselves by letting their slaves escape.

    Grand conspiracies aside however, Leon had a dwarf to deal with at the present moment. "You see, I had lots of time to check the temperature of the county on my journey. First it was the slave uprising in Azdavay, then I heard about a copper mine being burnt down, and by the time I approached the city here I've seen burnt down plantations with my own two eyes. Of course, while we dwarves are against the exploitation of labor, we are also against sticking our noses in other's business unlike you humans with your noses stuck everywhere."

    I don't think you are tall enough for your nose to reach any business in the first place, added Leon while he was trying his best not to fall asleep while hearing to the same complaints he had heard from everyone else.

    "However, as the Lord-Incumbent of Trade, my concern has to lie within the state of commerce between our realms. I know that humans, since they are so tall, have their brains higher up which means that you sometimes have trouble with blood reaching there. Still, I do hope your brain is working hard enough to see that travel, and trade, has become quite the chore. By the Ones Who Dwell Deep, I was basically extorted by the caravan masters! Do you know how expensive travel has become now that they are scared to go outside of city walls?"

    Yes, Leon did know how terrible things were. Even if, at most, there were one or two plantations being burnt down now and then, the mass hysteria caused by the fugitives had done more than enough damage to the economy. Every day, every single damned day, his steward came in with reports of merchants withdrawing from the city, with reports of guild masters complaining about not getting any materials, with reports of adventurers coming back with nothing… What was the count supposed to do?!

    "Yes, I do know how terrible things are. Even if the situation isn't as terrible as you've heard it, the rumor mill has been running on full speed."

    By now, Leon had even heard that the peasants in the rural areas had begun forming their own militias in fear of the fugitives. Normally such a move was quite the threat to the order in his county, armed peasants were quite the revolting sight, and it was a threat that he'd have sent his own men to crush. Some of the local lords had done so with their own forces, some had let them be, and some lords were (unbeknownst to Leon) dead from the battle that had happened around the Earlywatch estate. Things were not okay, they definitely weren't.

    "We are currently conducting a special military operation in order to find the base of the fugitives and end their terror once and for all."

    "Oh, are you?" Whitebeard raised her brow. "How has that gone? I have visited a few of your vassals along the way, and it's not going the best from what I hear. The slaves are still escaping to who-knows-where."

    "The operation is still ongoing."

    "Indeed. The operation is still ongoing without much success. So has our business in Casamonu, and the dwarves will have to withdraw lest they incur great financial loss. I originally set off to observe the situation in Azdavay, but now I am here to warn you instead."

    Leon had enough. His fist came slamming down on his table. "And what am I supposed to do?!"

    The dwarf shrugged. "I know not. Sticking my nose in your business isn't my business. The copper from Mount Curry is very precious for us, and selling the copper to us is very precious for you. That is the extent of our relationship." Whitebeard rose up from her seat. "Disappointing. I was at least hoping to taste a mug of your beer, but all I got was a mugful of disappointment."

    Leon sobered up upon seeing the dwarf stand up to leave "Wait-"

    "Do not waste your time pleading with me. I'll not have any authority on such matters in a week, the only thing you can do is pray to your deities that the next Lord of Trade has more patience. However, I doubt they will." Whitebeard waved goodbye, closing the door behind her.

    Count Leon froze in place for a while, unsure whether he should chase after the insolent dwarf. Still, he was too tired to do so. "Argh…" He finally put his chin on the table, his arms spreading out on the table in resignment. "Hilmi, do you know what just happened?"

    Hilmi had completely zoned out during the conversation. "What, sir?"

    "Of course you wouldn't know… We just lost our biggest source of income. Get me something to drink."

    Much to the dismay of Count Leon, things were about to get worse. He heard another knock on the door.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter LXII – His fort is bombarded upon.
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    45th of Summer, 5859
    Outskirts of Casamonu, Casamonu    ​

    …and the people who caused the knock on the door were standing outside the walls of Casamonu, ready to knock the entire wall down.

    "Let us blow these walls and topple the tyranny of Count Leon!" shouted Sir Baha, on top his horse. His servant Ted was writing his speech down for future generations, while the rest of Baha's men were long tired of the grandiose speech from their lord. It seemed like the siege would have been already over if not for the speeches before it.

    The men breathed a sigh of relief as Sir Baha retreated from his high horse. With the pre-battle cutscene out of the way, the cannons could begin roaring once more, and roar they would at the walls in front of them.

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    45th of Summer, 5859
    City of Casamonu, Casamonu    ​

    "What are you saying?!"

    "Sir, I said that there is an army-"

    "I got that the first time, you idiot!" roared Count Leon. He definitely hadn't liked what the messenger had said. No messenger had brought him good news in the last month, in fact, and Leon had seriously considered executing all messengers in his realm just so that he could have some peace. "Where is that army?"

    "Right outside-" BOOM!

    The heavens split in twain once more, causing the room to go quiet. Then, looking out the window, Leon's trusty servant Hilmi shouted "The walls, sir!" and ended completing the messenger's sentence without knowing it. The count himself stayed quite on the outside, but he was stirring up a storm in the inside. That one cannon had, while failing to breach the walls, managed to breach his mental defenses. What the hell had happened? Had Sir Korvus joined the rebellion against him? Had the rebels captured the cannons? Were the fugitive slaves sometimes coming for him? Whatever it was, it hadn't served to improve Leon's day, and whoever they were had to be destroyed this instant. "Hilmi, get the men on the walls to counter-bombard them. We still have a few cannons in storage, don't we?"

    "Yes, sir." Hilmi bowed down before rushing out the room. Now the count was all alone, all alone under siege of an enemy unknown…

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    45th of Summer, 5859
    Libertycave, Mount Curry    ​

    Night had befallen Gemeinplatz once more, for the march of time was inevitable except for the cases of time being stopped by fancy vampires or elegant maids. The stars were out once more, in their full brightness thanks to a lack of artificial lighting up in the mountains.

    John Brown, famously radical abolitionist and part-time pelt maker, had found it hard to sleep that night. His sleep was disturbed for no particular reason, only if such particular reasons as being stuck on a mountain and being stressed about being found out weren't taken into account. Faith in the Lord, of the guidance of the Holy Spirit, was of upmost import to old Brown yes, but the machinations of Providence were grand and enigmatic. Who knew whether the Lord would grant them success? Brown certainly didn't, and he could only pray that his death would serve the greater good at the least.

    The old man's eyes were on the stars, shining as brightly and grandly as they had always shone on Earth. Such grand scenery was, to him, a testament in itself placed in the sky by the Maker. Oh, how insignificant mankind's struggles would seem if he was to look down on the planet from the stars! A realm full of flawed sinners, granted amnesty by His sacrifice and living on thanks to the unending grace and patience of the Heavenly Father. How great God's grace was that the entirety of the Earth and Gemeinplatz hadn't been consumed by the earth and sent directly to Hell! Brown pondered on such topics as always; the only thing he felt missing was the Good Book in his hands to read through once more.

    Looking at the stars, Brown wondered something else: was Earth somewhere up there? He had no way of knowing, but he hoped that his old home wasn't too far away. Hopefully Mary Ann, his wife, was doing well. The old man was worried that pro-slavery folk could potentially harass her after his death, though all he could do from so far away was to pray to the Lord that she wouldn't be hurt. It was weird to think that, potentially, his family had conducted a funeral for him already while he was still marching on over here. Were his dear sons who had died in Harper's Ferry in a similar situation as well? One side of Brown wished that they had found peace in the afterlife rather than having to continue fighting even more, though another side of him wished that they would continue fighting the good fight.

    No matter what had happened, Brown was quite alone. Even in Kansas he had his sons to accompany him. Now there was only Brown that John Brown knew of, and that one Brown was very alone indeed. Stuck in a completely foreign land, with a foreign culture and foreign people… There was only General Tubman to accompany him, yet she herself was as busy as Brown. So alone was the old man, that he could do nothing but let his tears water the grass beneath him.

    Old Brown honestly missed the United States, his home, his wife, his children… and union with them wouldn't come 'till he finally made it to the afterlife himself. Would he stop fighting and give up? Definitely not, but that determination alone didn't stop the pain of such a great separation.

    "Old man? Are you okay?" The voice coming from behind belonged to one Ayomide, the first ever person Brown had met in Gemeinplatz.

    Brown let out a great sniff, the sort of noise only old men can muster, to try and calm himself down. "Ah… Ahem. Excuse me, young lady, for you having seen me in such a sorry state."

    Ayomide was barely visible in the dark, except for her eyes shining brightly in the dark. "I've seen states that are much more sorry, old man. What's the matter?"

    "Not much, young lady. It's just a bit of homesickness." Brown was busy with wiping his tears while talking. Such a scene was definitely the opposite of what Ayomide saw most of the time.

    "Homesickness? Now that's something I can't relate to." Ayomide found a spot next to Brown. "Most of the folk here don't have the luxury of having that problem."

    "I'd hope that Libertycave will become a home for all." Brown turned back to look at the settlement, completely in the dark to not attract any suspicion. "Even if we do have a long way to go from those mud huts."

    "We're at least firing bricks now."

    "That we are doing… I believe that, with the exceptional effort shown by the freemen, we'll be having a civilized arrangement of living soon enough."

    Silence reigned for a while. Being stuck in a mountain didn't leave muchspace for interesting conversation topics. Brown and Ayomide gazed at the stars smiling to them from above.

    "…How is it like having a family?" asked Ayomide, breaking the long silence.

    Brown wasn't expecting to be hit with such a hard question, especially at such a late hour. The old man didn't budge for another while, thinking of an answer. "That… that… hmm…" How was he to answer such a vague question? Old John Brown decided to wing it with an answer. "You have a group of people who care about each other, care for each other, and love each other."

    "Hm? Interesting. I thought it'd be something deeper." Ayomide's voice showed clear disappointment.

    "I'd say all those are pretty deep and important matters, young lady. I did my best to be the best father that my family needed, and I pray that they were content with me."

    "I'm sure they were." replied Ayomide, in one of the rare times where she wasn't being sarcastic. She thought Brown may have had a few screws loose with the whole Holy Spirit thing and whatnot. Nonetheless, Ayomide still respected old Brown greatly, for having saved her life and for having slain her former captor. "The people do care about each other, and care for each other here. Love… I'm not sure I love everyone, but I wouldn't say I hate any of them. Does that make us a family?"

    Brown hadn't exactly thought of matters in that perspective. "Hmm… I'd say so, young lady, all of mankind is one big family under the Lord."

    Okay, maybe not that far… I don't want to be in a family that includes Jacob. Plus, it'd be pretty gross if I was in the same family as Shinasi… Still, Ayomide didn't feel so lonely at that moment. "Then, can I give you a hug?"

    "Huh? Excuse me, young lady?" Brown was definitely not ready for that question.

    "You really look like you need one after all that crying." Ayomide opened her arms. "Come on, I won't bite."

    Of course, due to a great difference in size between the two individuals, Ayomide was the one who ended up being embraced. "Old man you're suffocating m-" Another problem for Ayomide was the fact that her shoulders felt wet, and John Brown was wailing right next to her ears now. "O-Old man, why are you crying?"

    "Excuse me, young lady- It's, it's just that I was reminded of my daughters when they were little… It's been a while…"

    Thus Brown cried and wailed for a while, letting his emotions flow in the form of tears. The Lord had given him a new family, and by the Lord he'd protect them all to the death.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter LXIII – Their family is found out.
  • Threadmarks
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    47th of Summer, 5859
    Mount Curry, Casamonu

    Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.
    - Book of Proverbs, 16:18​

    Mount Curry is home to many a romantic scene, from rolling hills, to wandering adventurers, and to lovers making escapades of the kind which would cause the age rating of this work to go up if they were to mentioned in more detail. People engaging in coitus more ferarum à la canines aside, there was a pair who was currently busy engaging themselves with less amorous ventures out there in the mountains.

    "It's been twenty days, Tangerina…"

    "Yes, and you have been complaining for the last fourteen days."

    The pair in question were a sight which may be familiar to the reader: a most edgy-looking black knight and a portly magician whose hat was still doing its best to scrape the sky. There was also another figure following them from behind, one of an overly edgy-looking hooded figure whose edginess had overflowed to sheer ridiculousness, which by definition would make them a trio. However, the figure at the back was only carrying their supplies, and they definitely weren't going to be fighting with all that weight on his back. Hence a pair they stayed as they'd be the only ones worth mentioning in a tale of any sort, for who cares about the poor porters of heroes?

    "You're not the one cooking inside a black suit of armor in the summer heat!" complained the guy who was cooking inside a black suit of armor in the summer heat. "Plus, I haven't gone travelling outside in a long time. My muscles haven't warmed up yet."

    "I haven't gone travelling outside in a long time, but do you see me complaining?" replied Tangerina. She most sassily shook her head, her tangerine hair whipping around like a crazed horse's tail. "No, no you don't."

    "I can see the fact that you haven't gone outside in a long time." He sighed and looked straight forward. "Ah, what happened to the beautiful Tangerina I met at my first arrival…"

    "Nothing." Tangerina shrugged much to the annoyance of her comrade. "It's just that you have no taste, or respect…"

    "Peh! Why should I respect anyone?" He extended his arms out in the grandiose fashion of a villain. "They should be respecting me, the one with the capital and the power."

    "At least you are honest. Especially with that black armor, it suits you." Tangerina cast a bit of water and rained it down on herself to cool down. "Though, I wouldn't be surprised if you died a virgin."

    "I can just pay someone to solve that problem." replied he. "Unfortunately, I cannot pay someone to change the weather… urgh. I can't breathe under this helmet."

    "You can just take of the helmet, Mister Edgelord."

    "You know what…" Mister Edgelord complied, plopping off the helmet which had been completely covering his face. "…I think I will. Everyone knows my 'secret' identity anyways." Inside the helmet was a sight even more familiar to the reader: Kim Seong-min, CEO of Isegye Corporation and (un)retired adventurer. He had vowed to take business into his own hands: the business of eliminating the fugitives hampering trade in the region. What he was hoping for was to solve the issue before the next quarter, so that he could paint a brighter picture to his shareholders in the company. If the customer was always right, then the shareholder was something more than right (Kim himself failed to make a good metaphor there; his relationship with literature and writing started and ended with contributing to flamewars online).

    "Sir, is it okay if I took off my hood as well? It's quite hot for me as well." said the figure who had been following in the back. Kim gave them a thumbs up, and Nirmal revealed himself to the reader. I'd love to hide away in a treehouse somewhere and pass this summer away, he thought. This dark elf missed his home, the concrete of Earth and the brick of Gemeinplatz wasn't good for him despite the fact that he was living a decent enough life as the personal secretary of a CEO. "Thank you, sir."

    Kim didn't really react to being thanked; his brain busy with being pissed off at the fugitives. "Tangerina, detect anything yet?"

    "If I had, I'd inform you immediately so that we can stop this farce. The only living beings here are the grass and the wild beasts." Tangerina was wagging her staff while holding it up to the air. From the outside, the staff looked like any other stick. From the inside, it was any other stick. She had sold her magic gear right after her retirement, so the best she could do was use the thick branch of a tree. Thankfully, Tangerina still had her overwhelming magic power to compensate for overwhelming lack of equipment. She could still detect every living being in a 100-meter radius without having to audibly cast a spell. "Oh! A person… and a herd of sheep - yep, that's another shepherd."

    "Great, if we were looking to slay shepherds." replied Kim, whose patience was running thinner than the wages he paid his workers. The only thing that they had slain were a bunch of weaponnappers who had tried to go against their overpowered party. Needless to say, there were no proper corpses left to mark where the beasts once stood.

    "I sense another group… of three. No, four. Four. All of them are at a higher elevation." Tangerina paused. She closed her eyes, focusing on the worthless stick in her hands. "They have stopped moving. Now they're heading for the side of the road, and crouching. From the way their arms are positioned, I believe all of them are carrying weapons or tools of some sort. Maybe they plan on ambushing us?"

    "Maybe. They are foolish if the plan on doing so; I'd guess that they may be hiding from the guy in black armor." replied Kim, the guy in black armor. "Let's head away from them and hide somewhere ourselves. Keep a close watch, Tangerina." In rare moments like these, Kim did actually sound like a competent person instead of an online troll with way too much money.

    Kim's party walked away from the men they had detected, before throwing themselves behind a row of trees next to the road. Soon, their hunt would begin…

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    47th of Summer, 5859
    Libertycave, Mount Curry    ​

    Donuts. Sugary, sweet, those are not at all related with what was happening at the moment… or so the unenlightened would think. For Ayomide, the ever-observant maid café worker turned radical abolitionist catgirl wizard wielding giant beams of multicolored light, the gathering in front of her was very much related to donuts. The donuts she'd one day rip out of the enslavers of Gemeinplatz who had deprived her of the right to have some. Donuts which… why am I thinking about them again?!

    Ayomide sent a cold gust of wind towards her own face. That seemed to wake her up somewhat from the donut-related thoughts that surfaced whenever she saw the Provisional Council of Curry gather. The council had gathered once more, this time for a situation which had just occurred for the first time in Libertycave: crime.

    "Men of the council… Calm down, calm down, for the Lord's sake be at peace!" Old John Brown missed the days when he had a small crowd consisting of people numbering in two digits. Now there were around two hundred freemen, and organizing them all had become quite the chore, especially at times where debate was about to get heated. "Do you know why you all are here today?" A few murmurs indicating agreement emanated from the crowd. It was only a few, however, so the rest of the members of the audience had to be enlightened. "We are here to discuss the matters of a crime which occurred in Libertycave yesterday. Could the defendant please come forward? Defendant?" Brown had become all too familiar with legal terms thanks to his own case in court that led to his execution.

    The donut suddenly became calm. One freeman raised his hand to speak "Captain, what is a 'defendant'?"

    Shinasi replied from the back "I think that's a fancy term they use in courts… don't worry about how I found out. It was just a misdemeanor, I swear."

    "…you are right, young man. What is a defendant?" Brown had forgotten the fact that he was dealing with people who didn't even have a chance to go to court if they were accused. "A defendant is the one who has been sued by the plaintiff, the one accusing them of committing a crime."

    "I'm the defendant then?" A young boy came forward. It was Ejike, the former servant of Sir Algernon.

    "And I'm the plaintiff?" Next to come forward was Bilal, the overseer of the kiln workers in Libertycave. "I'm not the one whose copper was stolen, but the kiln workers want me to represent them."

    "Yes, you two. Bilal, you can act as a prosecutor. Stand forwards please, and may I have order in the courtroom!" Brown didn't have a gavel, so he used his spear to pommel the ground whenever needed. The freemen quietened down as he pounded the earth. "I also need… let's say, six people to act as the jury, you will be judging the facts of the case." After a short round of deliberation, six freemen stepped forward and took their seats on the couches taken from the Algernon estate.

    Everybody could instinctively feel that the old man was to act as the judge, especially considering that his flowing white beard gave him a most judge-like appearance. He didn't have any training, except for having been executed for treason in the United States, so Brown did his best to sound professional without any professionality in the legal profession. The old man pommeled the ground a few more times to get everyone's attention. "Ahem, ahem… We are gathered here today, may the Lord be our witness, to hear the case of the copperworkers and Mister Ejike. Mr. Bilal, could you give us the facts of the case?"

    "Of course, Captain." Having already broken the rules of the court already by not referring to the judge as "His Excellency" or whatever, Bilal continued. "It's simple. After learning math, me and my men decided to track the inventory of our copper. What goes in, what goes out… It turned out that a lot more copper was going out of our stock than the copper going in to our furnaces. So, me and my men decided to launch an ambush against the copper thief, and we found Ejike approaching the pile of copper. We tried to stop him, but he took a rock from the ground instead and wounded one of my men before escaping."

    "Yes, I have seen the wounded man." Brown turned to Ejike. The jury had gotten heated hearing thievery happen in Libertycave. "What say you in your defense, young man?"

    "First off, I only happened to walk next to the copper pile at night, on my way to get something to eat for sis. I didn't to anything to it; none of my hands ever touched a piece of copper." replied Ejike. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone either; I was just scared when I saw a group of men approach me in the dark."

    "Is that true, Mr. Bilal?" Brown's piercing gaze slowly turned towards Bilal. "Did you see him reach for the pile?"

    "No, no I didn't, captain. Still! That doesn't change the fact that one of my men were wounded by him."

    "Oh you-"

    Brown pommeled the ground once more. "Gentlemen! Let's act like the civilized men we are. I think we have heard everything there is involving arguments that aren't needless arguing. I'll leave the jury decide."

    After brief deliberation, so brief that it took as long as it took for this paragraph to be written, the jury ruled that Ejike was not guilty of theft, and that he had acted in self-defense. Thus, an argument which would have taken several days and possible escalated to cause a few more injuries was solved within minutes thanks to the rule of law.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter LXIV – Their plans are figured out.
  • Threadmarks


    • 48th of Summer, 5859
    Libertycave, Mount Curry    ​

    There was some big news, so big that it had taken a while for it to walk up the mountain:

    "Captain Brown, the county is at war!.. I think."

    John Brown, the captain in question, was sitting as he always did: in front of a desk with a map laid out on top of it. When the students were away, the cave returned to being the strategic command center of the League of Gileadites. It was always quite busy, with Brown in the center, Tubman sitting somewhere nearby and Ayomide standing next to them while trying her best to understand their odd conversations. Thankfully, the report as delivered above by Kyauta (who had barged into the room) was the sort of combination of sentences which Ayomide could easily understand. "At war?"

    "Yes. I was making rounds Casamonu when I saw a big group of armed men march around the city." The tired Kyauta found herself a seat, a newly manufactured wooden stool crafted with the finest copper nails Mount Curry could give. Ayomide quickly poured the tired woman a cup of tilia tea, which Kyauta obliged by drinking it all in one swing of the cup. "Thanks, Ayomide… As I was saying, armed men. Many of them were on horseback, and I saw them carrying many banners of various colors."

    "That's definitely an army then." replied Brown, thinking that the "many banners" must be military colors of some sort. In his youth (aged only 12, during the War of 1812) he had chanced upon a military camp and their many regimental banners. The experience had left the old man with a distaste for the military and its culture; a horde of drunken gamblers paid a regular salary to murder another horde of drunken gamblers… Or, more accurately, they were a group of man paid good money to kill their fellow man. A military wasn't exactly the most Christian of organizations, as Brown had quickly noticed back then. He'd rather stay far away from organizing a professional army if he could, the Lord would surely lend victory to a force of well-organized militia fighting for Him.

    "Whose army was it?" asked Tubman, a woman who had done much work as a scout and spy during the American Civil War. She knew that such banners were important in distinguishing regiments and other military units. "Anything that could help us identify?"

    "Well… I retreated so quickly that I didn't get to observe them much. I left as they began setting up a pair of big cannons around the walls. Such a large group of people are sure to have cavalry scouts, and it would have been bad if I was caught." Kyauta paused a bit, before remembering a detail which seemed minor to her. "Oh! I remember that the men all wore yellow vests that looked like they were made out of silk. However, when I happened to get a closer look from on top of a tree, I noticed there was stitching clearly showing from these vests as if they had turned them inside out."

    "Yellow vests… Yellow vests…" Ayomide suddenly had a metaphorical flash of yellow light shine before her eyes. For others, however, they were flashed with actual light due to her accidentally releasing some light magic while thinking. "I remember! Didn't the men at Casamonu wear those?"

    Brown nodded as well, saying "Yes, I remember the men who raided us so rudely during our sleep wore those yellow vests too, and I believe those vests were made out of silk as pointed out by Miss Kyauta."

    "Then the vests must be a uniform of some sort for the count." concluded Tubman, the others nodding to show their agreement. "But then, why'd they attack the count's town? A mutiny? Rebellion? Civil war?"

    "I don't think there's much 'civil' in that 'war' if it's the count's men." Brown's eyes shifted towards the map, particularly towards Casamonu. None of them were sure of what was exactly happening, but they were sure of one thing: "I presume that the count must be quite preoccupied with all the men swarming around his cozy seat of power." He couldn't help but let one chuckle out "O', thank the Lord!"

    "What is it, Captain?" Ayomide was wondering if the old man was finally going total bonkers "I don't think there's much that's funny about this situation..."

    "Ahem, excuse me…" Brown regained his usual composure, turning to address the small crowd around his desk. "Mine was a chuckle of relief, though I do agree it was rather unbecoming. You see, I think Providence has given a reward for our efforts through this auspicious event."

    "A reward…" murmured Tubman, thinking of what Brown may mean. "From what I can get, it seems that the count's men turned on him. Men don't turn each other unless they're angry for some reason, so there must've been something that got them angry… Maybe it has something to with the fact the slaves who keep escaping in the middle of the night?"

    "Having their slaves escape must be such a convenience which might be more than mild." said Brown, mustering up his sarcasm. Not in excess however, for excess (even an excess of Brown-approved Christian-friendly purely pure puritan sarcasm) was a sin in and of itself as decreed by the Lord Himself. "I've seen, back in the United States and especially in Kansas, how slaveowners were quick to turn over and take up arms against any form of governance which failed to protect their interests."

    "Yes, I saw the greatest taking up in arms anyone's ever seen." Unlike Brown, Harriet had been on the front and backlines of (un)conventional mid-19th century warfare during the American Civil War. "A bit of paranoia, a sparkle of mistrust, and a whole keg of anxious gentleman…" She quickly separated her clenched hands, making a fitting "Pow!" noise with her mouth as if the metaphorical keg had exploded. Ayomide looked at the woman, trying to decipher what that movement had. Having never seen a powderkeg, despite having witnessed a powderkeg go off, she wasn't exactly well-suited to get the obvious metaphor which Tubman was going for.

    "And that, that was the reward I'm talking about for, praise the Lord above, I believe we are witnessing the powderkeg go up in flames." Despite having fulfilled his objectives however, Brown wasn't exactly looking too joyful for one obvious reason: "May God have mercy on the souls which will abruptly depart from this land. Let us not forget that the blood of men is being spilled here."

    "Amen." replied Tubman and Kyauta, the cave going silent for a brief moment of prayer. It was liberation, yes, and Brown saw nothing wrong with what they were doing in terms of morals. One day in 1837 he had declared "I pledge myself, with God's help, that I will devote my life to increasing hostility toward slavery", and increase hostilities he had even after his passing, intending to "break the jaws of the wicked and pluck the spoil out of his teeth". Even in his jail, having a last meal with his wife before execution… Brown remembered what he had said in response to his wife Mary worrying about their children:

    "Tell them their father died without a single regret for the course he has pursued - that he is satisfied that he is right in the eye of God and of all just men."

    However, Brown still saw the use of force as undesirable, a last resort for when no other methods were available, which the United States and Gemeinplatz lacked any other methods for peacefully abolishing slavery. Back in his younger days Brown had wanted to be an entrepreneur of sorts, gathering funds to advance the cause of abolitionism through ballots and not bullets. His naivete had been crushed under the heels of the Southern gentlemen who had only grown more tyrannical to counteract more peaceful methods of abolitionism. When evil left the righteous no alternative way but to fight, then he'd wield his (metaphorical) sword towards justice, and lead others who'd follow him to do the same. Not for vengeance against the slavers, not for any personal reasons, only in the name of righting what was clearly wrong.

    "So, what do we do?" asked Ayomide, who had been left out of the loop (especially in the theological department). "The big man's busy slaying his own men. That means peace for us, right?"

    Brown put a somewhat reassuring hand on Ayomide's shoulder. Then he proceeded to do the opposite of reassurance. "Oh, young lady, that just means we are getting started." If he was back in the United States, he would have continued with the freeing of slaves up in the mountains and force the government to abolition. But, as stated in his speech in chapter XXIII (23), he wasn't content with abolition of chattel slavery in Gemeinplatz. "The Empire must fall, and it won't fall without us giving it a push." Far from it, Brown would only be content with the abolition of all types of slavery. Serfdom, vassalage, all of it. "With the help of our Father, we shall kick the whole rotten structure down, and I know where to start!"

    The room was energized, and slightly anxious, upon observing the sheer fervor and energy exhibited by Brown. His voice was ringing on the walls twice, thrice, quadruply even. He took the hands of everyone in the room, Tubman on one end and Ayomide plus Kyauta on the other. "I swear to all of you, may the Lord be my witness, that we shall soon expand our operations, for the end of liberating each and every last person in bonds whom resides in this realm." He looked out of the cave, the cave in which it had all began once more. "Henceforth, I declare to all of ye who are attending: Let us spring forth from these mountains, so that our grand gush forward shalt cleanse the sins of this land and make men free as the Lord hath made them in His image."

    "W-wait, where are we 'gushing' forward to?!" exclaimed Ayomide, who couldn't help but be worried about the old man. He had a mad side to him; so mad was Brown that him dying hadn't stopped him.

    "To the closest town which we can liberate: Azdavay!"

    Thus, the League of Gileadites was to launch a campaign of their own, unbeknownst to the lords bickering over Casamonu…
     
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    • Chapter LXV – Their postal code is found out.
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    49th of Summer, 5859
    Libertycave, Mount Curry    ​

    Libertycave was more alive than it had ever been, if the vague concept of a settlement could be alive in the first place. No longer would they be stuck on top of a mountain waiting for fate to do what fate does!

    Soon Gemeinplatz would tremble in fear at the march of the oppressed, whenever the oppressed managed to sort their logistics out. It was easy to say "Let's go and defeat them while they're distracted", but to gather an army strong enough to beat those who are distracted? To have two hundred people march a place which's a day's walk away and potentially siege said place? Think of trying to plan a gathering involving ten acquaintances, and multiply that by twenty to the power of ten squared by the root of -i to the pi of 3.12452435; trying to make any sense of the previous jumble of words is only marginally easier than trying to gather two hundred people together to do anything.

    Those who couldn't fight were busy with preparing supplies: non-perishable food such as hardtack, extra javelins, spare underwear… everything that one could need when sieging down a city. For those who were to fight, Brown was giving his crash course on siege tactics, Tubman was giving her crash course on stealth tactics, and Ayomide was giving her crash course on impaling people with a javelin. All three of these would be important in their operation, especially the last part involving sharp objects entering others' bodies.

    Today had been Brown's day to train, and he had spent most of his time educating the freemen on the usage of ladders for their upcoming operation. With his training time over, the old man had intended to make his way to the cave when…

    "Captain!" It was a familiar voice, that of Ayomide running towards Brown. "We have… we have something!"

    Brown waited until Ayomide stopped, took a few breaths, and calmed down. "Young lady, do you take me for a mind reader of some sort? What is that 'something' that you talk of?"

    "It's… it's…" Ayomide opened her arms, pointing her hands forwards towards Brown. "…a wooden object that's as long as this. There's a metal tube stuck inside of it."

    "A wooden object with a metal tube inside…" Brown didn't need to think long despite the vague description not helping him at all. "Young lady, that sounds like a firearm."

    "It doesn't look like any firearm that I know of." For Ayomide, a firearm could be described as "a wooden shaft with a long metal tube stuck at the end of it".

    No matter what the nature of this object was, Brown was curious. "Take me to it, young lady." With that, Brown and Ayomide walked for only a minute before they encountered a curious crowd who had gathered around a small wooden crate flanked by an even smaller crate. A pair of barrels poked out from the crate, two metal barrels that looked out of this world in terms of manufacturing quality.

    "Excuse me sir, excuse me lady…" Brown cut through the crowd, slowly making his way to the center of the human donut (unlike Ayomide, Brown didn't get distracted by the thought of actual donuts). In the middle he found a pair that wasn't a pair of barrels: Rabanowicz and Watanabe. Watanabe was shaking a bit, and Brown saw that he didn't look too comfortable being near firearms. Rabanowicz was trying to peek inside the barrel-

    "Miss Rabanowicz!" shouted Brown all too suddenly, swiftly confiscating the odd firearm from the curious woman. "That's the business end of the rifle, you shouldn't be looking through it!"

    "W-What?!" Rabanowicz didn't seem all too pleased to have her object of curiosity be taken away so suddenly. "This musket is missing a firing mechanism. Look," She pointed towards the back of the rifle "there's no match or wheel here to fire the gunpowder up. I've observed it to be totally safe."

    "Matches and wheels are not the only way to fire a firearm, Miss Rabanowicz." replied Brown. Still, taking a second look, he noticed that the weapon lacked a flintlock or a percussion lock which would be familiar to Brown. It was obviously some sort of rifle, a carbine perhaps due to how short it was according to Brown's 19th century standards where the average rifle would barely fit through a door.

    image ​

    On a metal part toward the back (the "receiver" as one might know of it), Brown found an English inscription stating "U.S. RIFLE / CAL. 30M1 / SPRINGFIELD ARMORY / 2656151", which confirmed the fact that this was indeed a rifle. An American rifle at that, one produced in the Springfield Armory. Brown wondered how it had gotten here; an American rifle being transported to Gemeinplatz was no less mysterious than an American man being transported to it.

    The old man examined the alien rifle, trying to figure out how its firing mechanism worked while the onlookers watched him. He pulled and pushed on the various parts, his first futile attempt being to try pulling on the trigger guard as if he was operating a lever-action rifle, keeping the barrel pointed towards the ground so that he wouldn't end up shooting any bystanders. Eventually he lucked upon the operating rod and Brown managed to open what he thought was the breech of the rifle. However, compared to the Beecher's Bibles (a.k.a. the Sharps rifle) which he was familiar with, this breech still looked alien. There was no place to put a percussion cap, or any mechanism on the outside to activate the percussion cap, nor was there a place for a paper cartridge to go in. "What sort of cartridge would go in this?" he wondered audibly.

    His wonderment received a reply from Watanabe. "Cartridge? Like, a bullet?" The otherworlder pointed at the smaller crate that hadn't caught Brown's attention yet. "I think these are bullets."

    "They are?" Brown checked on the crate, and saw that there was a whole lot of small brass-colored tubes that were packed together by metal bands. They looked cartridge-shaped to him, though why someone would waste brass on such a thing was beyond Brown. "What sort of cartridge is this?"

    image ​

    Watanabe shrugged. "I don't know. I've only seen guns in movies and games, never used a gun myself." Drawing from his miniscule experience in World War II media, he continued "I'm pretty sure you're supposed to ram that whole thing in the gun to reload it."

    Brown debated for a second whether shoving objects inside a firearm was a good idea, but he decided that it was better to try Watanabe's suggestion. What good would be a gun if there was no way to reload it? The old man pushed the clip inside the rifle and, voila, it fit inside the magazine like hand in glove. Brown pushed the operating rod forward and closed the bolt, shouting "Stand back and shield your ears!" before pulling the trigger…

    Click.

    A disappointing load of nothing. "Huh…" Brown played around with the gun a bit more before finally finding the safety catch. The old man let out a final "Alright, shield your ears!" before pulling the trigger again.

    BANG!

    The sound of a loud explosion, an explosion that had created much less smoke than Brown expected from gunfire. Some of the freemen instinctively jumped away or dropped on the floor, not expecting such a noise; there were those among them who had never seen a firearm before. To Brown's surprise, he saw the bullet he just fired jump out the gun and drop on to the floor. Out of curiosity he pulled the trigger again.

    BANG!

    The rifle fired again, much to Brown's surprise. He had seen repeaters, guns with the ability to carry more than one cartridge, but the repeaters of his time all had to be manually operated to reload the ammunition with each shot. This gun had seemingly reloaded itself without Brown's intervention.

    "What hath God wrought…" mumbled Brown, unable to keep himself calm when being faced with such technology. How had this come here in the first place? The rifle in his hands was way beyond the technology of Gemeinplatz, not to mention beyond the technology of Brown's time. The old man couldn't discount a miracle or divine intervention, though Providence usually worked in ways way subtler than "drop a shipment of rifles and let Brown figure it out".

    "Hmm… Oh! What's this?" Rabanowicz had been unable to keep herself from trying to pick the second rifle up after seeing the first perform in Brown's hands. However, she had uncovered something upon emptying the crate. "There's a paper at the bottom." She lifted the paper in question up for all to see.

    The paper itself was as alien as the rifles: a pearl-white page with letters "written" cleanly in four languages (English, Chinese, Japanese and Korean). Watanabe recognized the familiar Calibri font used in modern computers, and the message on the paper was clearly printed through a printer. Brown read the contents of the paper aloud for all to hear:

    This is a gift from a friend. I have included visual instructions on the back of this paper on how to use this gift.

    Kim will come soon donned in black armor, do not trust him. His only concern is with using you for further his wealth. I shall meet you when he is defeated.

    May the countless leaves of the forest bless you.

    – Nirmal of Chanakburg
     
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