His Soul is Marching On to Another World; or, the John Brown Isekai - CabbagePreacher (2024)

Chapter 1: [Prologue] They hung him for a traitor, themselves a traitorous crew.

Chapter Text

2nd of December, 1859 (11:00 AM)
Charles Town, Virginia

Around two-thousand soldiers were gathered around a carriage. Inside the carriage was not an honored guest or a high-ranking official. No, guarded by two-thousand was just one man convicted of treason. The man was on his way to the gallows, sitting on his own coffin.

The man on the coffin had no chance of escape; all of his allies had been driven out of the city, there had not even been a minister available that could dare visit the man lest they draw the ire of the town.

Yet, despite his upcoming, inevitable death, the man seemed calm. His mortal body would soon lie moldering in a grave, that much was inevitable. He had already finished his divinely ordained mission, spending his last month in prison responding to letters, talking to reporters, doing everything to advance the cause he had fought for all his life.

The man was too old to run away and become a fugitive; he had accepted that he’d commit one last great act, that of becoming a martyr.

The carriage finally came to a stop in front of a wooden scaffold that had a noose prepared on top of it. He walked in a composed and calm manner, as if he was going for dinner and not to his death.

He uttered what’d be his last words to the sheriff.

“This is a beautiful country.”

He had a clear view of the surroundings from the platform. Two entire battalions of troops were protecting him, a mostly ordinary old man if not for his unordinary acts. They had even put a cannon directed at the scaffolding. It was clear that he had succeeded in his death; he had succeeded in striking fear in the heartless heart of the South.

If they were so afraid of one old man, what’d they do when others inevitably followed in his footsteps?

The noose, made out of cotton from South Carolina, was finally tied to the man’s neck along with a hood covering his head.

The audience was silent. The troops had done their best to make sure no one sympathetic to him was nearby. The circle of men around him was so large that nobody outside the circle would be able to hear him if he had decided to hold one last speech.

Yet, the troops could not drive off the man’s greatest collaborator that still listened to him, for the man knew that the Lord was still here with him.

He had instructed the sheriff not to make him wait. Without much delay, the noose tightened around his neck following a short drop.

He was left to slowly suffocate.

Yet, something odd happened before he fully lost consciousness.

Suddenly the man’s vision turned fully white, as if some divine light had suddenly engulfed him. He felt as if he was floating on top of clouds, not suffocating anymore.

He heard a faint voice that seemed to come from a great distance “Damn it, I asked for Jon Brown, not John Brown!” The voice seemed to be extremely annoyed. “How do you people mess up so badly! There’s a whole bloody century and a half between the two!”

The aforementioned John Brown was greatly discombobulated. He had been ready to die. He was definitely not ready for whatever was happening.

“Alright, just send him anyways. I can’t bother with fixing this mess.”

The white void around Brown slowly faded, turning to a black void while he finally went unconscious…

[Oh dear, you are dead!]

Chapter 2: Chapter I - His soul is marching on!

Chapter Text

Valen Bell
Daniel Wareham
Nate
Oren
Eddy
Raistlin
Nobleman Asa
Småll Man

May their efforts to advance the righteous cause of emancipation be never forgotten.)

Note for readers of the novelette volume(s): Fall of the Slave Harem is the first volume in the novel-length edition of the John Brown Isekai, set in a high fantasy setting. The story is completely different from End of the Slave Empire and Total Nekonomic Collapse, so you can read this volume safely without spoiling anything from those other two volumes. Hope you enjoy the long-awaited full-length John Brown experience!

Old John Brown's body lies a moldering in the grave,
While weep the sons of bondage whom he ventured all to save;
But though he sleeps his life was lost while struggling for the slave,
His soul is marching on.

- John Brown's Body by William Weston Patton

68^th of Winter, 5859
Mount Curry, Azdavay / Casamonu

Today was a beautiful day like any other. The last few precious snowflakes were slowly floating down to the ground, racing each other in a futile attempt to cover the earth with a thin sheet of heavenly white. The birds had come back from a tactical retreat, celebrating once again the defeat of General Winter.

These mountains, consisting of earthly dark green with disappearing hints snow-white that were slowly beginning to brim with life, were quite a sight to behold.

In the midst of these scenic mountains was 19^th century radical abolitionist John Brown, who had no idea where he was. The scenery around him was too ordinary to be Heaven, too unscorched to be Hell.

He would have loved to ponder the implications of not having died after being killed, yet the old man was currently unable to do so with clear conscience.

Brown’s physiological needs overrode his need to think about where the hell he was. The old man was currently without shelter and in dire need of finding sustenance (he hadn’t exactly eaten much before his hanging for he, like any other rational man, thought that he should be dead right now).

Thankfully, Brown was on a plateau that sat on a lower part of the mountains. There were a few trees, newly blooming plants, and plenty of melting snow to serve as water if need be. Cutting through plateau was a desire path, showing that there was larger fauna near the area.

His first instinct was to examine the surroundings for anything edible. Brown saw some bushes nearby that looked like they might contain something of note, yet, he couldn’t recognize the odd, green pear-shaped berry that crowned them. The other plants in the area too looked nothing like anything he had seen in the American Northeast and Midwest.

Going around eating strange berries he found on the side of some road would likely lead him to a more-than-upset stomach, an unwanted psychedelic trip, an early second grave, or all of the aforementioned three if he was to get especially unlucky.

All of the above were, to put it lightly and in the politest of terms, most disagreeable.

Brown decided that he’d first quench his thirst before racking his brain further on the topic of eating. Thankfully, snow was mostly safe to drink without any treatment; he picked a clean pile of snow from the floor and slowly melted it in his mouth.

A now athirst Brown noticed, on a slight cliff that was reachable with a little bit of parkour, a cave that had blended into the surroundings. Its small entrance was covered with vines, making it hard to notice at first glance. It seemed like good shelter, another thing that he currently needed.

Brown also needed something to warm him up after having picked up snow with his bare hands. He found a suitable piece of flint discarded next to the road and a dry piece of bark off of one of the trees. He took them and climbed to the cave, laying the bark in front of it. The old man took out his belt, which had a prong fashioned out of steel, and struck its prong against the flint. Sparks came flying out of the makeshift fire starter; soon the bark was on fire. Brown briefly warmed his hands before heading back down to find some dry twigs to further fuel the fire.

His grand adventure to acquire a stick or two was interrupted when he ran into three… Things. He couldn’t exactly find the words to describe them; the closest he could get was “amorphous blobs of jumping transparent liquid with a bluish tinge”. Brown had been hanged exactly a hundred and twenty-seven years before slimes ever got popular.

He – in great awe mixed with greater confusion - watched the curious creatures hop around, before the creatures were bored of hopping and decided to tackle the seemingly weak old man that had been rudely watching them.

He was definitely not expecting to be tackled by sentient balls of goo. The first slime hit Brown so hard that he almost fell to the ground. Nevertheless, Brown was not a stranger to combat. The second one was less fortunate; it met the furious fist of a combat-ready Brown, who now understood that sentient balls of goo were potentially dangerous.

The second slime lay defeated, unmoving on the ground. The first slime attempted another attack, but it joined its comrade on the ground after having an impromptu appointment with Brown’s other fist. The third slime, clearly the most rational of the trio, ran away from the man who had so viciously slain his comrades in cold not-blood.

Having completed the classic isekai ritual of slaying low-level mobs, Brown was left with two semi-intact balls of goop on the floor. He was curious about these creatures; he leaned to take a closer look.

The slime left over from the slimes had consistency similar to honey, and also smelled temptingly sweet. Brown wasn’t the only one to be tempted; a scaly, lizard-like bird, with a similar size to an eagle, suddenly snatched one of the dead slimes and took off to the skies with it. Brown decided to take the slime that was left over. If a bird could eat it safely then he should be able to do so too.

On the way back to the cave Brown also completed his mission of finding dry sticks. He made a proper fire by adding aforementioned sticks on top of the burning wood bark. Warm, with shelter, and with food (?), Brown had quickly climbed the bottom-most floor on the hierarchy of needs. Finally, he had time to do some pondering and planning.

He sat in front of the warm fire, thanking the Almighty for providing him with this meal, scooping up bits of slime with his hand while his brain was racked to the fullest.

Where was he? Clearly, he wasn’t dead nor was he in the afterlife. This place was most likely not on Earth either, he had never heard or read about amorphous, sentient blobs existing anywhere on Earth.

It was clear, to Brown at least, this must be a work of Providence. It couldn’t be an accident that he was here, clearly, the Lord must have sent him here for a purpose.

So, what tune did the Lord want to play with His instrument? That was the chief question that was currently occupying Brown’s mind while he dined.

Today was a beautiful day like any other. The last few precious snowflakes were slowly floating down to the ground, racing each other in a futile attempt to cover the earth with a thin sheet of heavenly white.

The famous mountains of Curry, consisting of earthly dark green with disappearing hints snow-white that were slowly beginning to brim with life, were quite a sight to behold.

In the midst of these scenic mountains, walking on a path, was one earthling otherworlder whom had been titled “Watanabe Generico” by the few comrades he had acquired. He was a young man with a protagonistly look befitting his title: short black hair, distinct lack of facial hair, and a twig-like physique.

Watanabe had been a gamer in his past life, having spent many hours grinding for levels in MMORPGs and whatnot. He had gladly accepted the offer made to him after his death; to use his gaming skills to save the land of Gemeinplatz (or something vague, he wasn’t sure what he had been told)!

Yet, the ambitions of Watanabe didn’t stop at just a vague notion of “saving the realm”. In his previous life, Watanabe had never had any chances to have any relationships with women other than his mom and his sister (which thankfully were not romantic relationships). He wanted to rectify that in this new world.

Watanabe thought of himself as the peak of masculinity, an alpha male if you will. He was a self-declared intellectual, spending copious times watching videos on YouTube and listening to podcasts by self-declared “independent thinkers”.

He thought, and the people that he listened to told him, that society on Earth must have brainwashed women into ignoring true men like him, what other rational explanation was there for his previous maidenless predicament?

It couldn’t have been the fact that he only showered only once a month, nor the fact that he never went outside, and surely, this predicament couldn’t have come about because he always looked down at any woman he was with.

No, surely, a man like him would seem so attractive to the traditional women of this world that he’d soon gather a harem… Right?

He couldn’t really afford to wait, so he had used his “hero”-ing money to buy a slave. “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” is what he thought when he had made the purchase.

Following him, bound in chains, was some slave whom Watanabe simply referred to as “Rye Bread”, he couldn’t actually bother to learn how to pronounce her name. Her actual name was Kyauta, a woman around two heads taller than him.

She could’ve easily beat Watanabe to death, she really wanted to do so, if she was the one who was armed and not in chains.

Other than having someone around him that wanted to kill him if given the chance, Watanabe Generico had another problem: He wanted something sweet to eat. This otherworld lacked in conveniently accessible sugar found on Earth. An absence of Mountain Dew had been troubling him since the beginning.

Watanabe seemed to hit the jackpot, only in terms of his quest for sweets, when he chanced upon a plateau in the lower regions of the mountain. There lay some trees, and under their protective shade laid bushes which had green pear-shaped berries crowning them.

Is this edible? I shouldn’t put myself at risk, he thought. He plucked one of the berries and would have handed it over to Kyauta if her hands weren’t busy being in chains. “Hey, be grateful. Your gracious master’s giving you a generous gift.”

Kyauta recoiled in response. “Sir, they are not edible, these are-”

“What, you think you know better than me, woman? I’m a modern, intellectual man from the 21^st century, you should listen to my wise words. Come on, don’t be shy, say ‘Aaah’…”

He got a prompt response from Kyauta, that being a spiteful spittle of spit being spat upon his now dispirited face. He was mad, quite mad, frothing even. He raised his generic broadsword to retaliate with unjust punishment, his anger trapping him in a state of tunnel vision.

Then, without a chance to even scream or shout anything, Watanabe suddenly collapsed. He hit his head on the cold hard ground with great force that ended his pitiful life in another world.

Watanabe Generico had failed to notice the fact that John Brown had been slowly sneaking up to him, a novice mistake to not be aware of any wild abolitionists while adventuring. Brown had simply done the Lord’s work by caving his skull in with a large boulder.

Brown quickly checked the many pockets of Watanabe Generico, finally finding a set of keys. He got up, intending to free Kyauta from her shackles, only to notice that she was already a few meters away. She had been doing the sane thing by running away from the stranger who had bashed someone’s head in a few seconds ago.

“Don’t skedaddle just yet!” shouted Brown. Seeing that she had no intention to approach him, Brown threw the keys towards her as far as he could “Use these, young lady! Get those cuffs off!”

Kyauta paused for a second, leaning down to pick the keys as best as she could with her limited movement capability. She then continued her merry way away from Brown, not willing to take chances with the wild man from the mountains.

Brown didn’t intend to give chase; it’d probably cause more misunderstandings if he did so. Plus, he had a whole corpse to dispose of now.

The old man had honestly hoped that he’d get a break in the afterlife, where he would finally reunite with all the family he had lost over the years, where Earthly sorrow and separation would end under the grace of the Almighty. Brown had already considered his mission done when he had sacrificed himself to become a martyr on Earth.

Yet, if Providence had prevented his death, if he had been raised again by the Heavenly Father, then he’d never stop or falter in his divinely ordained mission, not until he finally found himself in front of the Pearly Gates.

In this chapter of the John Brown Isekai:

Disclaimer: I won't be posting a meme on every chapter like I did with the previous volumes of the John Brown Isekai. Finding 12 appropriate memes for 12 chapters was hard and time consuming, finding Brown-knows how many memes for every chapter of the novel-length edition would not be possible without me including low-quality memes.
(Original post by @baalbuddy)

Finally, I am very happy to present you the novel-length John Brown experience. Sorry for taking so long, I do unfortunately have IRL matters that I have to tend to. I've had to (and will have to) spend basically all of my free time either writing, drawing or editing these last two months to get these chapters ready in reasonable time. Still, I do enjoy writing, and seeing people enjoy the John Brown Isekai is enough. I hope you enjoy this crazy ride, I have some insane stuff planned for the future chapters. Cheers!

P.S.: The Gemeinplatz calendar (exampled with the "68^th of Winter, 5859" in the opening) is split into four seasons, each season is split into 9 decameron (a unit consisting of 10 days) meaning that every season has 90 days. One year in Gemeinplatz is 360 days.

(Psst, here's a sneaky little secret just for you: You can read chapters early on my Patreon, and support your fellow human doing their best to write!)

P.P.S.: I also opened a subreddit, r/JohnBrownIsekai, for the John Brown Isekai if you're interested in discussing this series with the 10 other people that are on there.

Chapter 3: Chapter II – His day is marching on!

Chapter Text

Obligatory Content Warning / Disclaimer (in general, for all of the John Brown Isekai): This is the John Brown Isekai. This work deals with slavery and the horrible things it brings.

While I've avoided writing anything in a gratitious or a needlessly detailed manner (a.k.a. everything is kept PG), the following elements are and will be present in this story: Slavery, xenophobia, fantasy racism and fantasy hate crimes. The author doesn't condone any of the aforementioned. Writing a work about these things doesn't mean I support any of them, they are supposed to be bad things.

Another point: The otherworlder / isekai'd characters in this work are meant to be exaggerated characters based on MCs from webnovels / light novels from their respective countries. Those characters are not supposed to be representations of your average American, Korean, Chinese or Japanese person. I don't think that the Americans are dungeon-dwelling slavers, nor do I think that the Japanese are egoistic OP jerks. Nor do I think that the Chinese are ruthless sect masters, and I don't think that that the Koreans are materialistic capital-G Gamers.

I apologize if I came off as rude or condescending, I didn't meant to. It's hard to convey tone through text. I just wanted to make the above points as clear as possible since you cannot do custom content warnings on RoyalRoad. I hope you enjoy reading the John Brown Isekai.

Here we see the generic slime monster in its natural habitat. It is quite a sight to behold. With its smooth, semi-transparent body containing blueish tinges that take on the color of the environment, it can camouflage itself and manage to survive in a variety of ecosystems.

The Gemeinplatz slime, a term referring to many species of slimes that are commonly grouped into one, is a distinct member of the protozoa. This unicellular organism can be easily seen with the naked eye unlike its microscopic cousins, commonly reaching the size of a fully ripe cabbage when fully developed. This odd creature is a very opportunistic omnivore, feeding itself with plants and carcasses whenever it can find them.

The blue Azdavay slime, one of the subspecies of Gemeinplatz slime, is currently in great danger. Its body is very fragile, making it a target for predators looking for easy sustenance. While the slime does travel in packs of three or more to defend itself against its enemies, it has found itself under increasing pressure by a new predator that has introduced itself to the environment.

This newcomer is an old member of the hom*o sapiens who has found himself outside of his usual ecosystem. Like most members of his species, he has two arms, two legs, and two spears waiting to be thrown at his next meal. The human has spent the last day crafting these spears, sharpening wooden sticks with a knife looted from another human in hand.

The wild human lies in wait, patiently hiding behind a bush while he waits for a trio of slimes to unknowingly approach him. Slowly the slimes hop over to their doom, in ignorant bliss as they know not what is about to come at them.

Finding that the time is opportune, the human jumps out of the bushes, screaming to scare the slimes. The slimes’ hesitation is what brings about their end; the big blue blobs freeze for a moment in fear. A moment is what a human needs. He throws one of his spears at the slime closest to him, killing it when its nucleus is pierced and destroyed by the spear.

The human isn’t done just yet. He readies his second spear, this one piercing the other slime, the third one successfully running away.

Thus concludes the wild hunt of the human, two slimes left on the ground marking the results of today’s hunt. He picks up the slimes by the spears still attached to them, muttering a prayer in thanks to a Lord that nobody in Gemeinplatz is aware of.

Nature is indeed wonderful, yet it is also unnecessarily cruel to slimes.

Old Brown was back in his old cave, having returned with a fresh harvest of two slimes. They have been his only source of food in these lonely mountains. He had seen no other soul since the slaver (whose body had long ago been eaten by wolves and slimes) and his slave.

It was quite a worrying situation, to say the least. While the local fauna had been easy to defeat up until now, Brown knew not what to do if he encountered something fiercer. Nor did he know how he’d survive if winter came by to visit again. Even worse, exiting the mountains might be more dangerous than staying in them. What were the people of this land like? For all he knew they might all be cannibals that’d eat Brown for breakfast.

John Brown had died 6 years before the what most would call the grandfather of isekai, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, was first published. He was quite uninformed on how to survive in another world.

Brown set aside troubling questions of survival for now though, he was sure that Providence would guide His faithful to safe shores one way or another. It was time for him to get occupied with making some of the good stuff.

Putting down the slimes, making sure that their liquid didn’t spill out on to the floor, Brown took ahold of a steel helmet that he’d looted from his only visitor. Brown wasn’t an uncivilized man; he wouldn’t straight up scoop up some raw slime if he could help it, and help it he could. He took ahold of a flint and scraped it on the helmet’s surface, using it as a makeshift firestarter, to create sparks to light up the kindling he had already prepared. This firestarter was then promptly promoted to a bowl that’d hold the slime’s former innards. The blue fluid quickly began bubbling inside the bowl, emitting a smell that was a queer yet oddly satisfying (to someone as desperate as Brown at least) mixture of fat and sugar. This process of boiling the slime got rid of excess water and harmful germs (though Brown had also died before the Germ Theory of Disease was widely accepted, meaning that he didn’t exactly know what he was accomplishing by doing this).

Brown now put aside this “solid blue stew” to allow it to cool down to a gelatin-like consistency, for it was easier and more civilized to eat something solid with your hands. He didn’t remain idle though; for idleness was a tool of the Devil, he thought, and Brown wanted nothing to do with the Devil.

Thus, while his mind was wandering off in search for a way to relieve this sinful idleness, Brown stumbled upon an idea. He knew that people were present nearby to wherever he was. The steel helmet of the slaver showed to Brown that the humans nearby were civilized enough for metalworking (though apparently not civilized enough to have abolished slavery), meaning that they’d also be civilized enough to engage in trade and business. It'd be quite beneficial if Brown had some way of engaging in trade if and when he encountered human civilization. But what would the people here want to buy? He needed something that’d appeal to a market that he knew nothing about.

By now the fire in his cave had left a great pile of ash, one that Brown had no idea what to do with. Wood ash, slime liquid that smelled of fat, smelling… Eureka! At this moment Brown would have actually shouted “Eureka!” if he wasn’t concerned about attracting unwanted attention.

Brown emptied the helmet, which now contained solid blue soup resembling the slimes it had been made from. He then began engaging in the making of consumer goods in another world.

While Brown’s day marched on, busy with his new commercial venture, so marched on the day of the inhabitants of the small town of Azdavay. The town was mostly visited by travelers as a stop between the copper mines of Curry and the grand dwarven city in Zon’Guldac. Azdavay had a highly developed service industry to thanks to these travelers going to and fro.

One individual of note to our tale was a certain demi-human named Ayomide, who toiled away in a corner maid café as a waitress. This establishment was run by an otherworlder that had the idea to bring the concept of a themed café over to Gemeinplatz. It had a small but loyal entourage of patrons.

“Welcome home master, I welcome you to La Isékai!” May you all burn in the underworld you sons of asses.

Not only was she working in the hellish service industry, she was forced to work in the service industry. As if dealing with the dregs of humanity (also known as ‘customers’) wasn’t enough, she wasn’t getting paid to put up with them.

“What do you want honorable master?” ‘Honorable master’ my arse!

Her internal objections were for naught, for the gods had cursed this world with magic. She was directly controlled by the proprietor (or “master” as he fashioned himself) during business hours, her body moved with no volition of her own.

It was hell on not-Earth.

Ayomide sometimes wished that the proprietor’s magic was better so that he could at least bother to wipe her capability for thought during working hours. At least she would suffer less that way.

“Here’s your sweet brioche, master!” …

Her propensity for silent insults would slowly give way to tired silence since she became more and apathetic as the day marched on. By the evening her head would be completely empty; her brain simply had nothing to process as she couldn’t control herself.

Thus, the day marched on, and on, and on, as if it would never end.

“Please have a nice day master!” Ayomide and the rest of her fellow staff waved a stiff goodbye, with an even stiffer smile on their faces. Things quickly changed when the customer was seen outside. In a manner that’d be most uncanny if any outsiders observed it, all of the waitresses stopped smiling and waving in unison. They didn’t make any sound, no relieved sighs or humorous banter that’d mark the end of a normal business day, while they marched in an orderly manner to their quarters.

Their quarters were a cramped one, only containing the bare minimum needed to contain the dozen slaves. Bunk beds with only straw bedding, a bucket in the corner that constituted a latrine, a lack of windows making the air inside feel more than metaphorically suffocating… The slaves heard a ‘click’ from the lock of the steel door. The master always made sure to lock them in to keep them from escaping during the night.

The room was eerily silent after that.

The silence was broken with the sound of a dozen bodies collapsing. The magic controlling their bodies had stopped, it took a good few seconds on the ground for the slaves to remember how to control their own bodies. A couple silent expletives flew around in the air during this process, after that no other words were muttered from the tired slaves who immediately headed to bed. It was useless to strike conversation; they barely knew each other due to not being able to converse during work.

Tonight though, Ayomide didn’t plan to be asleep. She waited an hour to make sure that all her coworkers were sleeping before slowly moving her aching body towards an empty corner of the room to do her nightly training.

Silently she cast a few weak spells to warm up. “[Breeze], [Breeze], [Breeze]…” Her ginger hair waved ever so slightly at every cast. It was easy, even in her tired state, for her to cast such simple spells by speaking them out loud.

Such simple, vocal spellcasting wasn’t her goal though. [Breeze]! [Breeze], godsdamnit! Her hair stood still. She didn’t give up, silently shouting ‘[Breeze]’ deep into the night. Yet, her hair stood still, no matter how many hopeless tears she shed, even as the birds outside began to chirp to welcome the coming morning.

Ayomide heard the footsteps of the master slowly descending the stairs. Did she really want to welcome another captive day of having no control over her life? Was she to forever remain a disposable slave to a hellish corner café? Would she die yet another forgotten living corpse, comprising a simple, small cog in the monstrous slave economy of Gemeinplatz?

…N-No, I want to live! [Breeze]!

Suddenly she felt her hair move, a cool breeze embracing the back of her neck.

Ayomide had managed to cast a spell with only her thoughts.

Chapter 4: Chapter III – His day is still marching on!

Chapter Text

A cold breeze rolled down the mountain, as it always tended to do, knocking over the odd particles of snow that were still falling. Spring was coming, yet the mountains of Curry stood ever so stubbornly, trying its best to preserve the grip of winter. The only signs of spring were the odd plants piercing the thin sheet of snow to reveal odd hues of green and yellow. The smell of wet earth carried by the fresh mountain breeze was quite pleasant, being the kind of smell that makes one feel alive.

It was quite a sight to behold, and behold Brown did. He, while waiting for his product to complete developing, had set off on a self-imposed mission to survey the mountains to see if there was any road to civilization. The old man oft found himself voluntarily stopping in his tracks to admire what he took to be the majesty of Creation, waxing poetically while doing so.

As for his observations, there weren’t many signs of human civilization in his immediate area, other than the occasional abandoned mineshaft that had been abandoned and looted long ago. It seemed that only Brown had decided to settle down in this area. There was also an earthen path, the same one that he had seen the slaver on, that might (or might not) lead to human settlement. The forest that extended down from the mountains blocked him from seeing if there were any dwellings in the distance. He had decided that he’d head down there if he was left with no choice, the chance of being lost in a foreign forest was too high (especially as there were no familiar stars in the sky that could help him with navigation).

Brown stopped when he saw a small lake, made by centuries of snow melting and eroding the rock, that contained a small population of various fish. He wasn’t hungry, so he felt content with watching the fish swim around the glistering, clear water.

That’s when Brown realized he wasn’t alone in watching the fish.

For what was afraid of had happened and old Brown’s eyes had now met something fiercer: a black bear standing on only two legs, watching the water in search for fish. The bear was chewing on the dead carcass of an unfortunate slime as it waited for an opportune time to acquire much needed protein. From its standing position the beast looked almost human, a very hairy human that could easily end Brown’s otherworldly adventures.

Brown was a brave man, brave enough to raid a federal armory with 22 people, but he was not foolish enough to think that he could defeat a bear by his lonesome. He silently moonwalked, in a manner that would seem comedic to him if he was not in a life-or-death situation, trying not to capture the attention of the bear that might think of him as an easier source of protein…

Crunch. His escape plans were ruined by an abominable twig that he couldn’t properly see while moving backwards.

The bear stared at Brown.

Brown stared at the bear.

“Good morning, young man. I am just some old, dry meat you see; you have no need to-” His persuasion attempt failed, evident by the fact that the bear had begun running towards him in a manner that was shockingly fast for its enormous body.

Brown, in a desperate attempt to gain an advantage, threw his makeshift spears before legging it. One of the spears bounced off the bear’s fur, sharpened wood was no match against skin as thick as it, while the other managed to find itself being lodged in the bear’s soft nose. This unexpected addition to the beast’s body stunned it for a bit, allowing Brown to acquire much needed distance from the bear while it growled with killing intent.

He began a brisk march towards the small cliff where his safe cave lay, with his furry ‘friend’ in tow. Brown was fast; the bear was faster. Every step meant a shorter distance between the two. It was quite hard for Brown to maintain such speed, especially as the melting snow had made the ground quite unsuitable for this unexpected morning jog.

By the time Brown had reached the small cliff whose top housed his cave dwelling, the bear was so close that Brown could feel its crazed breathing make contact with his neck. Without taking a look back he began jumping to-and-fro towards the top of the cave when…

Thud. Brown found himself hitting the cold ground, backside-first. Now he made eye-contact with the bear, not for long as Brown had to do his best to quickly jump sideways to avoid the claws flying down to him. This pitiful jump wasn’t enough as one of the claws found its way to his right shoulder, piercing through his coat as if it was made of toilet paper.

Brown didn’t have any time to swear or deliver a one-liner to entertain the readers, his shoulder was now bleeding and he urgently had to make his way to the cave. He ignored the pain for now, standing up to again make way to the cave. This time he was successful, all that extra adrenaline came in handy. Thankfully the bear wasn’t as agile, it could only growl and groan at Brown while watching him up on the cliff.

“Thank the Holy Spirit for guiding me away from that bear…” muttered Brown. He collapsed on the floor of the cave, his chest rising up and down in pain-laden exhaustion. He didn’t have anything to stop his shoulder from bleeding any further. He could only pray and hope that the wound wasn’t going to get infected.

Brown laid on the ground like so for about an hour, wanting to sleep but being unable to from his shoulder aching so dreadfully that he thought he was about to earn another one-way ticket to the Pearly Gates. After his rest he looked down from the cave to see, much to his horror, the bear patiently waiting down there. Around it were the emptied shells of the local slimes it had hunted during the hour. The bear seemed intent to set siege to its new mortal enemy.

“By the Lord, at least the bears in America weren’t this patient.” commented Brown in observance of his new rival. By now he had gotten used to the stinging pain in his shoulder.

Brown didn’t know when or whether the bear would give up, so he returned back inside his cave to observe how his product had developed. Inside the cave were a dozen bars of blue soap, made from slime fat, solidified inside clay molds. It wasn’t that hard to make simple soap; he only needed mix together some wood ash and fat. The molds had an odd shape: the sole of Brown’s shoe. He had tried to make the molds into more of a brick shape at first, but it was hard to make something straight and proper without any tools to do so. Thus, inspiration had struck him when he accidentally stepped on a ball of clay, Brown had found out that his shoes were the best way to make consistent molds.

He took one of these molds containing soap and, in a fit of anger, threw it at the bear that was still frolicking down below. The mold hit the bear’s thick skull, breaking the mold open and letting the soap go free on to the stone floor below. This move hadn’t hurt the bear much, only serving to frustrate the beast even more.

Being besieged by some wild bear had left Brown in a sour mood. “Now, what am I going to do with you…”

“Welcome home master, I welcome you to La Isékai!” May you all burn in the underworld you sons of swine.

Another day meant another round of work for Ayomide. The same people, the same dishes, the same drudgery...

“What do you want honorable master?” ‘Honorable master’ my tail!

Most days, as they contained nothing special, would go by very quickly for her. Today wasn’t such a day, quite the opposite, she hoped that today would develop to be a day of jubilee. Time showed its relativity as it slowed down to a torturous halt.

“Here’s your green mochi, master!” May the mochi get stuck in your detestable throat.

Thus, the day marched on, and on, and on, as if it would never end.

“Please have a nice day master!” And let me have a nice day of my own.

Ayomide and the rest of her fellow staff waved a stiff goodbye, with an even stiffer smile on their faces. Things quickly changed when the customer was seen outside, in a manner most uncanny, all of the waitresses stopped smiling and waving in unison. They didn’t make any sound, no relieved sighs or humorous banter that’d mark the end of a normal business day, while they marched in an orderly manner to their quarters. Ayomide was about to execute her plan before being rudely interrupted by the proprietor.

“Ayomide, my kitten, come here for a second.” What? She was surprised to see a break in the daily monotony. He hasn’t noticed, has he?

The proprietor was making a gesture with his finger that signaled Ayomide to come to him. He didn’t need to actually do this, as he was the one who was currently controlling her movement, but pretending that his slaves weren’t only doing his bidding out of mind-control magic felt better for the proprietor. From his dumb smile she understood that he hadn’t understood anything about her plans for today. Her body moved to stand next to the proprietor while her coworkers went for their quarters. The proprietor locked the door to the slave quarters, while humming a chipper tune that was quite foreign to anyone in Gemeinplatz.

Ayomide’s mind wasn’t sitting idle while all this was happening. Painting on the wall, too inconvenient... That broom? Too far away. That leaves…

The usual dumb smile of the proprietor, covering the entirety of his young, inexperienced face, was one that made Ayomide retch. “Let us have some fun, kitten. Come on, don’t be shy…”

At this moment Ayomide was unable to control her speech (as usual), but she still controlled her thoughts. Today, her thoughts were of the dangerous kind. [Dispel Magic: Body Control]!

Ayomide felt relieved as she felt her muscles obey her again. took hold of the priceless porcelain vase that had caught her eye. Before the proprietor could notice that something was going wrong for him, the vase had made swift contact with the man’s face. It shattered into a thousand or so pieces, one large piece kindly lodging itself to the man’s left eye. The proprietor himself was shattered too after having found himself on the ground, left too stupefied to properly process what had just happened.

“You- You dirty, swarthy wench! You damned ni- Argh, I can’t see!” He was brewing up a storm, but none of the slaves inside their quarters were willing or able to help him.

Ayomide’s heart was racing, she had done it. There was definitely no turning back now. She didn’t have the time to be standing inside the café, it was likely that someone would soon come to investigate the ruckus. She barged out of the front door, running for dear liberty.

Chapter 5: Chapter IV – His truth is marching on!

Chapter Text

Welcome, folks of all kinds and dimensions, to the Annual Curry Mountain Brawl!

From the top enters a new contender in this year’s brawl, Mister John Brown from Connecticut! He has a special thing just prepared for this occasion folks, and he’s ready to spice up this year’s contest.

And standing at the bottom, staring at his rival standing at the small cliff, is Bipedal Bear! It is at quite a disadvantage, some of you might know, for it has picked the low ground for this fight. Yet this veteran of the mountains looks like it is not willing to give up its title this easily, it has besieged old Brown and is not intent on leaving.

The contestants are staring at each other, with killing intent the likes of which have never been seen before, looking to see who’ll strike first. Brown seems to be holding a helmet containing a boiling mixture of highly concentrated lye.

What does he inte- oh my God, he’s going straight for the eyes! Old Brown has gone for the forbidden “chemical warfare” technique, long banned by the Geneva Convention. Luckily for him Geneva is not a city in Gemeinplatz. He has poured the burning liquid down from the cliff to the head of the bear, blinding his opponent!

Chances aren’t looking good for bipedal bear, folks. It seems to just be running around wildly, trying its best to strike at its opponent. Though, if Brown approaches, it could still be dangerous with its sharp claws, folks, so don’t tune out just yet!

Old Brown seems to be planning to descend the cliff, perhaps looking to escape before the bipedal bear can notice him. Can he do it folks? Can this new contender in the brawl earn a place at the top, or will he become tonight’s dinner?

…Wait a second, the bear is down, folks! It has slipped on a bar of soap that found its way to the battlefield! What an unfortunate accident, even Brown seems surprised at this predicament! I-It seems that the bear is not moving anymore. Is this the end of the road for the bear?

One, two, three…

…eight, nine, ten! That’s a KO!

What an unexpected twist, folks! This year’s champion of the Annual Curry Mountain Brawl is John Brown!

Adventurers, the people that most stories about another world focus on. They are adventurous, brave folk who’ll stop at nothing to throw their lives on the line for fame and glory. From their ranks rise heroes, fiends, and everything in between. They protect the common folk; they slay monsters that threaten the realm… Those would be the words that a layman would use to describe adventurers.

A cramped room, a floor dirtied with unspeakable substances, and a mass of unwashed, rowdy folk. Those would be the words that’d describe the adventurers of Azdavay, or the adventurers of any far-away town for that matter.

There in a dank room sat a group of three around a round table, drinking and smoking their hard-earned money away. Their sense of fashion resembled a Renaissance Fair where no one knew how medieval people dressed. Among the most atrocious of their crimes against fashion were the random bits of metal plate, none of these plates in a place that’d protect anywhere vital, stuck throughout their body. None of them wore a helmet in a bid to show off their overly pompous hair. In short, the most important thing for adventurers wasn’t practicality or survivability. The most important thing was looking cool while doing their job.

The conversation around the table was a dull one, consisting of bits and bobs about the adventurers’ adventures and other drudgeries.

“Shinasi, it’s been getting harder and harder to find mountain slimes nowadays.” began an older adventurer, chewing on some tobacco that had been imported from the east. He had a giant scar that travelled from the bottom to the top of his head, most assumed that this scar must have been earned in honorable and glorious battle. In fact, he had earned this scar when he had dueled another adventurer in an argument about what portion of the loot they got to keep. “I always end up finding useless slime corpses instead. Business has been drying up lately.”

“You don’t say Shakir!” replied a younger man, with great sarcasm in his voice. He had an assortment of scars too, righteously earned when he was travelling through the treacherous realms of his thorn-infested backyard. The only piece of armor he wore was a small steel plate over his heart that was fastened by two belts, the rest of his hairy chest was bare (thankfully he was wearing pants). He was slurping on some cheap wine as he spoke. “It’s obviously the man-bears waking up from hibernating. They’ll calm down in a week or two.”

“He’s probably right. Believe me, those things are vicious.” added the only woman in the group. Shakira’s lack of sensible clothing could only be matched by Shinasi. “You know, that Vadanabe Ceneriko, or whatever he was called, I bet he was eaten by a man-bear.”

Shakir grumpily grumbled at the thought of his ‘comrade’ who he hadn’t seen for a while. “Such a shame too! That boy had one of those ‘cheat skill’ things. And he had a slave to boot!” He shook his head, chewing his tobacco even more intensely. “Such a shame, such a shame…”

Shinasi shrugged. “Eh, plenty of otherworlders end up in the mountains. We’ll probably get a new one coming here eventually.” He chuckled and then added “If they survive.”

Their conversation was cut short by someone entering the Adventurer’s Guild building; there was a bell hung to the door that made it easy to hear guests. “Here comes an otherworlder now.” said Shakira, watching a familiar figure enter the room. This figure was a young male Awmereighkan, quite a common species of otherworlder, who had been staying in Azdavay for around a year or so. He usually gave them easy yet well-paying quests to gather some ingredients. The adventurers were quite fond of him because of that.

Today though, unlike his usual calm self, the Awmereighkan seemed to be quite disturbed. He quickly walked up to the counter where the guild’s receptionist lay, barking something in broken Low Gemeinplatzish.

Shakir tilted his head, trying to get a good view through the crowd in the guild. “Young man has got one of his eyes covered with bandages. What happened?” He received his answer as the receptionist rung the bell on her desk, signaling an emergency quest.

“Hear ye, gather ye!” This announcement from the receptionist caused great excitement among adventurers. Emergency quests tended to be profitable, after all.

“Adventurers of this guild! Sir Jacob Smith of Florida has informed us of a great emergency! Please- please no pushing, stand in even rows as I relate to you the contents of your quest!”

Tonight was a beautiful night like any other. Moonlight shimmered on to puddles of water, snow no longer being in sight as spring banished the last vestiges of winter. Flowers, hardly seen in the moonlight, sprung forth to welcome the new season. A catgirl was running from slavery, trying her best keep herself under the cover of darkness.

The last few days had been hellish for Ayomide. Her old master wasn’t the type to just lay down and accept losing a significantly valuable piece of ‘property’. The damnable adventurers over at the guild had been hunting her down, keeping her on the run. She hadn’t been able to catch a wink, or anything to drink. Her muscles, doing their best to keep her upright during the chase, ached like they were ripping apart from their seams. It didn’t help that the mountains she had escaped to were still cold; the revealing maid outfit from the café did nothing to protect one from Mother Nature.

Ayomide could easily see in the dark, like others of her kind, but she had slowly started to lose focus and clarity in her sight as the night marched on. Suddenly, she tripped on a log that she hadn’t paid attention to in her wild run.

She found herself laid flat on the ground, the wet ground making her feel even colder than before. Struggle as she may, Ayomide was unable lift herself up anymore.

This is it…

Her vision fading, Ayomide found herself smiling during what might be the last moments of her admittedly short life. At least she was dying a free woman. That’s what mattered in the end, Ayomide thought.

…suck it, Jacob…

Brown woke up along with the first rays of sunshine visiting his cave. He groaned in pain when he felt his back aching like he had been on the rack for the entire night. The old man had been forced to sleep on the floor of the cave for a few weeks now; the spine of someone entering his sixties didn’t react well to having to spend the entire night laying on stone. Brown heard some concerning crackles come from his poor spine as he straightened himself.

“Yawn… thank our Heavenly Father above for keeping me alive for another day. Ow, ow, Lord help me, ow…” Brown winced once more as he tried to get up, his right arm being of no use. The wound that the bear inflicted had gotten awfully discolored. He was afraid that it might be infected; having to amputate his own arm was definitely not going to be fun if that was the case.

Finally managing to rise and shine after ten minutes, Brown made his way out of the cave to acquire food for the day. He’d have smelled the wet earth and the fresh smell of the blooming flowers if he hadn’t placed the bear’s hide next to the entrance. Brown and his father before had been tanners; it wouldn’t have been proper to let good hide waste away. The hide, stretched on a makeshift rack made of stray logs, smelled awful as it was covered in animal dung. Brown hadn’t covered the hide in dung just for the fun of it; covering leather in dung was what helped it soften up (thanks to the bacteria found in the dung, unbeknownst to Brown). He planned today to begin tanning the leather using the tannin he had gathered from the logs of pine trees from the forest below.

Thus, old Brown jumped down from the small cliff leading to his cave, only to have his morning routine be interrupted by an unexpected visitor.

“Miss, are you okay? Oh Lord…” Brown rushed to greet his visitor.

On the ground lay a woman of particularly short stature, unmoving as if she were a corpse. Her dress had been dirtied and torn greatly; Brown had to avert his gaze while approaching her to avoid seeing anything indecent. Her face was as dirty as her clothes, beneath a layer of dirt and grime lay black skin with a slight tinge of crimson. Her hair was ginger, barely noticeable beneath a layer of mud, standing in stark contrast to her dark skin.

Brown crouched to get a better view of her and was relieved when he saw that his visitor was still breathing, even if only barely managing to do so. He used his uninjured arm to drag the young woman out of the mud, covering her with his coat so that she wouldn’t be exposed anymore to the elements. Then he rushed back to his cave to quickly find something for her to eat and drink, his mind in a state of great worry about the wellbeing of his guest.

Chapter 6: Chapter V - Her day is marching on!

Chapter Text

(The next chapters of the John Brown Isekai was brought to you by the fine folks over from my Patreon:

THANK YOU Valen Bell FOR YOUR EXCEPTIONAL CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE TEMPLE OF BRASSICA

Brassican Preachers: Daniel Wareham, Moon

Brassican Lay-Preachers: Alexander Ibarra, Andrew, Ben Kellough

Brassican Disciples: OnlyFeatures, Oren, Småll Man, Nobleman Asa, Raistlin, Nate, Eddy, Daugirdas Pelanis

May their efforts to advance the righteous cause of the John Brown Isekai be never forgotten.)

…this place smells like sh*t. I thought that the Otherworld wouldn’t be so stinky.

Ayomide opened her eyes. She could only see the wide blue sky in this position; she felt as if she was floating. This illusion of floating disappeared when Ayomide noticed that she was still laying on the ground. She quickly raised her head up to see, much to her surprise, that she was still in the same spot as last night. The only difference was the she was now blanketed in fur that smelled… unpleasant, to be polite.

“Alright, what is going on here? Anyone?” The mountains seemed to be as abandoned as they normally are. This didn’t help explain how she was currently alive. Did some wandering mountain deity save me? She looked around again, no mountain deities or spirits to be found in her local area.

Everything was calm. Too calm, in fact. Ayomide felt a tad bit scared as the wind howled by.

“Good morning young lady I-”

Ayomide shrieked and jumped back in shock. She quickly turned her head around to find a wild man that towered over her. He was quite a scary sight with his messy hair flying around in the wind, with a face that hadn’t been washed in an entire month. She calculated that only an insane man would probably decide these mountains as his habitat and Ayomide mentally prepared herself accordingly for a wild encounter.

The old man was more nonplussed compared to Ayomide. He hadn’t expected to hear such a shriek. “Ex-excuse me for having startled you, I approached you silently as to not wake you up.” An awkward silence filled the air as both paused. “My name is John Brown, young lady, what is yours?”

“Ayo… Ayomide.”

“Right, Miss Ayomide, is it? Are you able to get up?” Brown extended his hand towards Ayomide. Struggle as she may, Ayomide found herself unable to get up even with Brown’s help. “Well, thank the Lord that you’re alive at the least. Just wait a minute, I’ll bring something to eat.” The old man then left the premises, running back to his cave.

The lord? These mountains don’t seem like a suitable place for any lord, thought Ayomide. Unless this man has gone crazy and thinks himself as lord of these mountains. Still, the old man seemed cordial enough.

Brown quickly returned with a crude clay bowl that was filled with solidified slime of some description, along with a clay cup filled with murky water. He had been spending some of his idle time making earthenware; eating out of some dead man’s helmet felt too macabre for Brown. Plus, he needed somewhere suitable for storing bear meat and earthenware pots were the best that he had for the job. It wasn’t too hard to find clay and fire it up in a pit. Someone inexperienced in pottery like Brown could learn how to make useful items with some experimentation.

“Sorry young lady, but our household currently lacks spoons. You’ll have to make do with eating using your bare hands.” said Brown as he handed the bowl and cup over to Ayomide. She blankly stared at the bowl for a second or two before realizing that it contained something that was edible. Ayomide also remembered that she hadn’t eaten anything proper for a week or two. These two realizations combined, she quickly chowed down the slimy goop in record time. The goop had mixed with the unglazed clay to create an awful wet mixture of earth and sugar; it felt like the best meal Ayomide ever had in her life. She was shedding tears of joy by the time she finished the bowl.

Brown was watching Ayomide in a concerned manner. “Are you okay, young lady? Are you in need of anything?”

“No- No, I’m fine sir. Thank you for saving my life.” said Ayomide as she wiped her tears.

The old man smiled warmly in response. “No need to thank me. Thank the merciful Holy Spirit for guiding you to safety, young lady.”

Ayomide tilted her head, confused due to Brown’s ramblings that seemed odd to her. “The holey spirit?” How would a being in charge of holes lead me to safety?

Brown shook his head and furrowed his brows. “No, no. The Holy Spirit.”

“The howlin’ spirit?” Something to do with wolves or dogs?

“No, I-” blurted John Brown. He heaved a deep sigh. This probably wasn’t the right time for evangelism, but Brown was a stubborn man. “So, there’s the Lord, right?”

Ayomide nodded her head. “Yeah, you were talking about him earlier. Haven’t seen him yet though. Is there really a lord in this mountain?”

“Think beyond the mountains, for the Lord is everywhere!” Brown pointed to a faraway point in the sky while making this point.

Ayomide followed where Brown had pointed in hopes of seeing this lord. She only saw a few clouds lazily gliding in the sky. “Everywhere? If this lord is everywhere then why isn’t he here?” Maybe he cast an invisibility spell?

Brown clung on to his patience. “No, don’t think of a simple lord! I’m talking about the Lord, the one who cannot be compared to any other mortal lords of this realm! King of Kings, our Maker!”

A lord that cannot be compared to another lord… Wait, it can’t be! “Are you talking about the emperor?”

“No I’m not… I don’t recognize any emperor, young lady.” Brown gave up on his impromptu catechism session. The people of this land seemed to lack understanding of such topics, or so he thought. “Christ almighty help us…”

“Kreist…” Brown’s mention of a certain carpenter intrigued Ayomide. “Right, I’ve heard of that name. That damnable proprietor would shout this Kreist’s name, something like ‘cheese us goddamn Kreist’, every time he got frustrated with something.” She looked happy to have finally understood something that came out of the old man’s mouth. “I still don’t get why he kept requesting cheese though…” And this old man is requesting help from Kreist. Wonder who he is.

Brown, in opposite to Ayomide, was quite shocked at the casual blasphemy that Ayomide was relating. Putting ‘damn’ and ‘Christ` together was much more serious of an insult according to a devout 19^th century man like Brown. “What an uncouth proprietor! How condemnable! That heathen!” He crossed his arms and shook his head in great disapproval.

Ayomide was surprised to see the overt reaction of Brown to what she thought was a weird interjection. “Being uncouth was the least bad thing about that man, believe you me. The whole locking us in some dark room every night…” She audibly shuddered. Everything felt surreal to her, as if her entire life up to now had been a bad dream.

Brown had been wondering up to now as to why he had found Ayomide up in the mountains; the conversation had finally shifted in a way that was suitable for him to ask such hard questions. “And I’m assuming that’s why you’ve made an escape and found yourself here?”

Thus, like water freeing itself from a broken dam, Ayomide’s emotions flowed free along a torrent of tears. She told Brown of her life that had begun in some cramped barrack, of her countless equally damnable owners, and of her life during her escape. She hadn’t been able to properly talk to someone else for years, by the end Ayomide felt greatly relieved as she had never done before. To see something other than contemn, pity or apathy; being treated as a person felt strange yet great. Liberty tasted thus to someone who had never even seen a glimpse of it.

“…now I don’t know what to do, old man. I can’t return to town and I don’t think I’ll be able to return to anywhere with other people. Being free is such a hard thing.” Ayomide was smiling while she said that. I know what to do. I’ll have some proper sleep, no more waking up in the morning for me!

“I’m not in the position to dictate what you’ll do, young lady. Nobody, other than the Lord, is in a position to dictate what someone else does. ‘A man's heart deviseth his way: but the Lord directeth his steps.’, remember that young lady.” Brown had been waiting for the right time to ask Ayomide this question. “I will aid you to the fullest extent I can if you do decide to leave here and go on your own. But, if you wish to stay here, then I hope that you’ll assist me in my divine mission.”

A divine mission? This old man really likes to make over-the-top remarks. “What’d your mission be, old man? What has the, whatchamacallit, this holy spirit of yours inspired you to do?”

Brown stood up, and posed himself as if he was speaking to a crowd. He seemed excited at the prospect of getting to speak about his mission. “Our divinely ordained mission and obligation is to fight for the Lord and wipe out all that profanes His Creation.” Ayomide tilted her head, showing that she had no idea what Brown was talking about. Brown continued his speech with great fervor nonetheless. “That which is the greatest act of profanity against the laws of the Almighty is slavery, which throughout its entire existence has been none other than the most barbarous, unprovoked and unjustifiable war of one portion of citizens against another portion, the only conditions of which are perpetual imprisonment and hopeless servitude, or absolute extermination.”

Ayomide could easily understand the second half of the speech. I can actually understand him when he’s not talking about spirits and whatnot… She had saved her own tail; many tails were left unsaved in this realm. She could hop on a boat and escape to a realm that didn’t practice slavery, but thinking that thousands of her brothers and sisters would lay in captivity disturbed Ayomide greatly. Fighting an entire system of slavery wasn’t safe, still, had Ayomide chased after liberty for the sake of a modicum of ‘safety’? People are going to be hunting me down no matter what, might as well go down fighting.

“I understand, old man.” Ayomide extended her left hand towards Brown. “This is how you make an agreement in Awmereighka, right? With a handshake and whatnot.” She had observed him throughout their conversation; the fact that he wasn’t from this world was clear as day, especially to someone who had interacted with many an otherworlder. He seems to not be a prick at the least, a surprising thing for an otherworlder.

Brown was left flabbergasted for a second. He smiled before extending his right hand in kind. “The Lord has given you an eye that is most keen, young lady.”

“You don’t need a keen eye to see the obvious, old man.” The pair shook hands, signaling the beginning of camaraderie that’d change Gemeinplatz forever.

As their hands separated, Ayomide noticed that Brown had winced in pain when they shook their hands. “Is your arm injured, old man?”

“Yes, young lady, a bear slashed my shoulder while I was fighting it.” He rolled up the sleeve of his coat to reveal his shoulder that had gotten discolored. The wound was oozing with substances that need not be mentioned.

“That looks awful… Wait a second, stand still.” Brown was surprised as Ayomide grabbed his arm and did her best to slide closer (she still couldn’t stand up) to Brown. “What was that word again… This- Disin… [Disinfect]!” Brown was beyond surprised, and left utterly speechless as all the aforementioned awful ooze and discoloration slowly disappeared. He stared at his arm eyes wide open and slack-jawed, left in disbelief. Ayomide collapsed as her muscles gave in; magically disinfecting such an infected wound wasn’t exactly easy on the body.

Incoherent noises came out of Brown’s mouth while he tried to process what had occurred before him. His ability to speak properly finally returned after a few minutes. “Ah… Wha… It’s… It’s a miracle from the Holy Spirit! Bless our Heavenly Father above, praise be to our lord and savior Jesus Christ! Hallelujah!” He continued showering praises upon God while prancing, tears rolling down his cheeks due to feeling overwhelmed with hallowed joy.

Ayomide was still collapsed on the ground; all of her energy had been drained in one spell. She felt the effects of ‘mana fatigue’ as it was commonly called. Her eyelids lazily closed themselves, begging her to fall asleep again.

Eh, I’ll let the old man think whatever he wants.

Chapter 7: Chapter VI – Blessed are ye.

Chapter Text

Nothing so charms the American people as personal bravery.
- John Brown, addressing the League of Gileadites

47^th of Spring, 5859
Mount Curry, Azdavay / Casamonu

Mount Curry, and the rest of Casamonu, had enjoyed a lucky period of respite from snow or rain. Yet, as spring came in full force, endless rain was now on the menu once more. The soil, already muddy from melting snow, now became marshlike up in the treeless mountains. Those who are sane would avoid travel during these times to avoid being soaked in water and covered in mud. The already deserted mountain path had become even more deserted, except for a few less-than-sane adventurers looking for easy prey.

“Damn the mud…” murmured Shinasi as he slowly marched on the path with his adventuring comrades. “We should’ve gone out the moment this quest dropped, instead of waiting like idiots.” He and his comrades were wearing slightly more sensible clothing while outdoors. They all wore a thick piece of gambeson, to protect from both injury and cold, along with less sensible random bits of metal strewn throughout their bodies that provided minimal protection but maximum fashion. They carried their helmets in their bags, for the creed of the adventurer decreed that showing your hair and face off was more important than always protecting your noggin.

“You were the ones who told us to wait until the man-bears calmed down, you idiot.” replied Shakira. She held the flat side her ridiculously enormous two-handed sword up on her head, using it as a makeshift umbrella. Shinasi was doing a similar thing with his shield. Shakir, the oldest and wisest of the bunch, had simply cast a magical shield over his head.

“It’s your fault for listening to me then!” Shinasi half-seriously continued complaining like so while Shakira replied and Shakir listened. There wasn’t really anything else that they could do to pass the time while on the road.

Fog began obscuring their vision and the air got colder and colder as they got up higher and higher on the mountain. Nevertheless, the brave adventurers marched on for the noble cause of ‘getting that dosh’. Sir Jacob had put a good price for finding and bringing back his lost slave.

All this walking made Shinasi quite hungry. Thankfully, he spotted some juicy pear-shaped berries on the side of the road. He reached for them, only to be interrupted by the flat side of Shakira’s enormous sword slamming his back.

“What the Otherworld was that for?!” screamed Shinasi as he rubbed his aching back. “There are enough berries for all of us, no need to get jealous!”

“These are poisonous you bloody idiot!” Shakir took one of the berries to show it clearly to Shinasi. “These are the ‘death’s crown’ that sprout in the rainy season. You might not have seen them due to being a winesop who’s afraid of mud dirtying their precious boots.”

“It’s called ‘being an oenophile’, not ‘being a winesop’!” Shinasi grumbled in mild annoyance at being unable to have a snack. He turned around from the bush, and met with a nondescriptly small cliff. What was non-nondescript about the cliff was a tall, humanoid shadow that stood over it. This shadow seemed to be watching them from beyond the fog.

“Weird shadow watching over us to my front, to single-file battle formation!” whispered Shinasi as to not alert their enigmatic observer. The adventurers, now in serious business mode, quickly entered their usual battle position. Shinasi was at the front doing tank duty, holding a shield and spear. Shakira was next to her with her enormously large sword ready to cleave anything down. Shakir took out his staff and retreated to the back. From there he began his usual analysis of their enemy.

“Considering our altitude and the size of the beast, I estimate that we’re most likely encountering an ogre, sasquatch or a cyclops. All three of these beasts should be peaceful as long as they are not hungry. Let us retreat, not breaking visual contact, while exercising caution.” Shakir’s range of vocabulary seemed vast only when he was in combat mode. Heeding his words, the trio slowly walked backwards in formation.

Suddenly the beast behind the fog shouted at them. “Greetings travelers, you need not to retreat! I bear no ill will towards you!” The adventurers’ retreat stopped. They looked at each other, trying to decide what to do. “Come here and rest good sirs, there is a cave here that’ll shelter you from the rain!” Shinasi hesitated, before he broke formation and began walking towards the shadowy figure.

“Shinasi, what’re you thinking?! Maybe he’s a mimic of some sort, don’t go near strange people without thinking!” protested Shakira.

Shakir shook his head. “No, mimics don’t dwell outside of dungeons. I don’t know any monsters that dwell in these mountains that have the capability for proper human speech.” He stepped forward to join Shinasi. “It’s just one man, we can easily beat him up if he tries anything strange.”

Shakira wanted to respond with “What if he’s a skilled wizard or cultivator?”, but she gave up upon realizing that her team members wouldn’t listen out of a desire to rest. She joined them in scaling the small cliff. Reaching on top, they found an old man standing in front of a brightly lit cave.

“Welcome to my humble little abode, travelers. My name is John Brown, and your names are?” Brown seemed excited at the prospect of getting to meet the people of this land. “Please, enter before you get soaked any further.”

The trio gave their names as they entered the cave at the behest of this odd hermit. There was a fire burning in the middle with a helmet being used as a makeshift bowl. Scattered on the edges was a bear’s pelt, a small mountain of blue soap bars and some crude earthenware.

“Excuse me if the food is meagre, I wasn’t expecting to receive any guests with this kind of weather.” Brown scooped up some cooked slime from the helmet and distributed it evenly among his guests. He also took one bowl for himself, leaving some spare in the helmet.

Shakira and Shinasi were staring at Shakir, who had to step up in situations that involved suspicious strangers handing out free food. [Check Poison]… He waited for a few seconds before an answer beamed into his head. Nothing. He nodded at his teammates to indicate that the slime stew was safe to eat.

The trio attacked at the food as if it was a monster, forgetting to thank him or Him for providing them their meal. Brown had to content himself with staring at them with a disapproving look; he had to put up with some uncouth people if he wanted to get any information as to his whereabouts. Ayomide hadn’t been useful in this regard, especially as she had not been awake since Brown’s arm had miraculously recovered.

Brown pushed aside thoughts of chiding the adventurers. He had business to conduct. “Well then, good travelers, where do you hail from?”

“We’ve come to these mountains from Azdavay, looking to complete our quest.” Shakir had taken up the job of answering Brown’s queries. “Apparently, a fugitive slave was last seen travelling in these mountains. We’re here on the orders of the Adventurer’s Guild of Casamonu to apprehend them if possible.” Shakir took out a small piece of paper from his pocket. “‘Short darkskin female demi-human with ginger hair. Bad tempered and prone to violent outbursts.’ Have you seen anyone that matches this description?”

Brown shook his head “No, I haven’t seen anyone here for the last few weeks.” He was acting more cautiously since he now knew that he was dealing with bounty hunters of some sort. “I think they’d be dead by now if they escaped alone to these mountains in this weather.”

“Right…” Shakir sighed in disappointment. This whole quest has been a huge waste of time. It’d be better if we just returned to Azdavay. “We’ll take our leave, then. Thank you for your cooperation.” The adventurers sat up, intending to leave. They were curious about who Brown was and what he was doing, but they were not curious enough to waste their time talking to some hermit.

Brown had one last question for the adventurers. “Before you leave, could you please help an old man and point me to where this Azdaweigh is?”

“You just need to go straight down the mountain path, Azdavay is right on the path.” Shakir pointed in the general direction of Azdavay while speaking. “You probably shouldn’t travel alone, though. The forest isn’t too dangerous since it’s close to town, but some of the creatures there can be quite a problem if they knock you out.”

Brown nodded his head and gave a simple farewell. “Right, thank you. Safe travels to you then.” He watched as the adventurers left the cave one by one, leaving Brown in his lonesome.

After confirming that the adventurers were not in sight, Brown quickly poured the leftover solid blue soup from the helmet to a bowl. He rushed over, bowl in hand, toward the inconspicuous bear hide that lay in the corner of the cave. The old man pulled the bear hide aside to reveal Ayomide, who was awake much to Brown’s surprise.

“Young lady, you’ve awoken?” He handed the bowl over to Ayomide. “I thought you were never waking up after the… the miracle happened.”

Ayomide lazily yawned while she slowly got up. She didn’t seem too bothered by the situation. “Good morning…” It was night “…It’s just a bit of mana fatigue, old man. Nothing too serious.”

“Nothing too serious? You’ve been sleeping for a week, young lady!” Brown was nonplussed at the plussed state of Ayomide.

“I needed some good sleep, that’s all.” She yawned again. Ayomide was looking much healthier compared to the first time Brown had seen her. She had a relaxed smile on her face as she stood up to stretch her legs. “Thank you for not letting those adventurers get me.”

“Thank the Lord, young lady, for your hasty re… covery?!” Brown’s words slowly lost their way when he noticed something odd with Ayomide. He hadn’t noticed this since Ayomide had been covered by a bear’s pelt all this time, but she seemed to have a long, furry object that was wagging on her back. “Young lady, if it isn’t discourteous of me to ask, what is that odd object behind you?”

“This?” Ayomide turned her back to Brown. “It’s called a tail. Did you not have tails in Awmereighka? All the otherworlders I’ve met were always obsessed the tails of catgirls…” She pointed towards the tail as it wagged to-and-fro. “Also, here are my ears, if you’ve never seen one either.” she added sarcastically as she pointed toward the two catlike ears, which Brown had thought were unruly tufts of hair up until now, that stood atop her head.

Old John Brown had expected to encounter slavery. He had expected to encounter crimes against humanity. He had not expected to encounter a catgirl.

“What hath God wrought…”

Chapter 8: Interlude – A day in the (after)life of John Brown.

Chapter Text

“Young lady… Ayomide! Wake up!” Brown’s voice reverberated like so in a particular cave in Mount Curry.

Ayomide, sleeping under the bear pelt gave her usual response. “Mmh… Give me five minutes… or five hours.”

“As a wise man once said, young lady: Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.”

“But I’m not a man…”

“That doesn’t matter, does it? Come on, get up young lady.”

Ayomide seemed sufficiently convinced by Brown’s words: After a round of yawning and stretching she finally got up to greet the new day. Thus concluded Brown’s daily ritual of getting Ayomide to wake up.

Next came breakfast, which usually constituted of some form of cooked slime and nothing else. Lacking knowledge of the local flora, especially as to what might or might not be poisonous, the duo had decided against trying to vary their diet by foraging for now. Brown hadn’t participated in hunting (being against hunting for sport) so he lacked the know-how that’d allow them to have the option of eating meat. One saving grace was that with the coming of spring some birds had laid their eggs, meaning that they at least had a source of protein for the current season.

“Mmm… worth it to climb all those trees.” commented Ayomide as she took a bite out of a boiled egg (made by putting eggs in a water-filled helmet and boiling them). It was pretty bland without any salt or other seasoning, but it tasted (mostly on a psychological level) much better compared to anything else she had during captivity.

“Praise the Lord for providing us with eggs on this very fine day…” Brown muttered a prayer before taking a bite of his own.

With the conclusion of breakfast came time for the main event of the day: labor. While the slimes of the mountains and the endless rain did provide them with a stockpile of food and water that was more than enough, Brown quite disliked idleness and saw it as a state to be avoided. Ayomide didn’t particularly care about being idle, but she didn’t mind working on projects that’d improve their quality of life either. Hence, they found themselves busy with one thing or another every day.

Brown had mostly busied himself with making pottery; he really wanted to travel to Azdavay to advance his plan of abolition but couldn’t due to the potential dangers of the forest. The endless rain had made it nigh impossible to properly fire anything as Brown didn’t have a kiln; he had been making firing pits (which was as simple as piling some wood and burning them) to make his pottery. Brown tried making a kiln out of mud, but his makeshift design (made with his occasional observance of modern kilns in 19^th-century America) had either cracked while firing or straight up failed to fire anything. The duo still spent some of their time shaping clay and preparing earthenware for firing, mostly as a recreational activity. It was fun to sit around together and shape some clay while chatting.

Brown and Ayomide, if running out of food, frequently ventured outside to hunt slimes and gather firewood. Brown had gotten used to throwing his makeshift spears. Ayomide wasn’t well-versed in combat magic, so she joined Brown in hurling spears around. She’d climb up trees to launch a surprise attack on slimes, or gather eggs from nests. Slime leftover from their hunting trips would be made into soap, Brown planned to sell these whenever he could finally reach Azdavay. They had built up a small mountain of blue soap in the cave over the last month.

The day’s work ended as the sky darkened. While Ayomide’s eyes could easily see in the dark, Brown’s couldn’t. With no sources of lighting other than the moon and the fire lighting in the cave, Brown (and Ayomide) had to retreat inside. They had dinner, comprised of eggs and slime. The duo would sit around the campfire, chatting the night away until they were tired. Brown usually told Ayomide about his life back in America along with biblical stories. She in turn talked about her life up to now, though in all honesty, most of her experiences were a blend of bleak and bland that weren’t that interesting to tell or listen to. Frequently being under mind control (or, in Brown’s own words, ‘the spell of the Devil’) didn’t leave space for forming memories of one’s own. Still, talking about her past was a form of therapy that Ayomide needed desperately in her life.

While Brown and Ayomide were spending time around the fire, they took care to heat water in the helmet. When it began getting late, they took turns (Brown going outside while Ayomide was bathing, or vice versa) taking a ‘bath’ using the aforementioned hot water along with using some soap of their own manufacture. Cleanliness was next to godliness after all, so Brown made sure to never neglect bathing daily even under their current circ*mstances.

With the end of bathing so came the end of the day. Ayomide tucked herself under the bear pelt, while Brown had to content himself with using his coat as cover.

Thus ended a normal day in Mount Curry…

Chapter 9: Interlude – A sermon in the (after)life of Jacob Smith.

Chapter Text

Back on Earth, Jacob hadn’t been a common attendant of his local church. He thought that churches in Florida were too ‘woke’, so he preferred spending his time on Sunday by ranting online about how Western civilization was collapsing or whatever.

However, things had changed when he had found himself on Gemeinplatz. The Temple of the Divine here was, according to Jacob, a fine establishment that had no problems speaking the truth. No censorship, no mobs, just pure, unaltered free speech coursing throughout the halls of the temple.

He still found the priests boring, and by the Divine were they boring, and he still dreaded having to sit on embroidered pillows during the sermon. Even the wooden pews were better, at least he could sit on them. But no, the people of Gemeinplatz sat down, legs crossed, while they listened to whatever some old git had cooked up for the day. Still, he had to endure it, going to the temple regularly allowed him to cultivate a more positive image amongst the people of Azdavay.

The temple was a cubic structure made of fine stone brick, with a wooden dome on top of it doing its best to reach the heavens. There was also a tower, part of the temple, that housed a bell used as a call for prayer. Regular glass windows adorned the building protected by iron bars; actual stained glass was too expensive for some backwater town like Azdavay.

Crowds of people streamed in and out of the temple every noon of the fifth day, to gather for prayer. Jacob, of course, was amongst the crowd going in, this going-in crowd being mostly comprised of people with skin lighter than white bread. It’d be untoward to keep their fellow Believer in bondage; slaves weren’t given any religious education. Their inferior brains couldn’t reach the Divine properly, or so mainstream doctrine went.

The crowd passed a few salutes toward Jacob, some even bowed to the otherworlder among them. This crowd was all-male, as women and men were separated in prayer. This felt somewhat odd, even to a man like Jacob. The rest of Gemeinplatz, while inequal in many ways in that regard, was mostly not separated by gender. He had seen adventuresses, businesswomen, even the occasional lady in their own right. It was as if the temple had stayed a few centuries behind, with all-male priests, and strict segregation of the sexes in their places of worship.

Inside the temple was a whole another sight. The floor was covered with a grand carpet showing even greater embroidery, the dome shone light through it that gave a hallow aura, and the stand of the priest stood tall over the flock. The walls and the ceiling were covered in various geometric shapes and patterns, this particular temple was controlled by a more conservative, Iconoclast sect. Most of the temples in Northern and Eastern Gemeinplatz were.

Jacob found himself a seat in the front row, not that he was pious, but because he wanted to be in front. Unfortunately, this meant that he had to endure the droning speech of the priest.

The temples in Gemeinplatz saw themselves as a place of enlightenment, so they always made sure to drag an old priest to impart some wisdom before noon prayer. Jacob was astonished as to how they made such a corpse of a man walk, maybe they dabbled in some necromancy to get him walking. “…and, good gentlemen, this is why we have to make sure to stick to the Divine Path: be ye kind, gentle, and forgiving in your conduct toward fellow believers. So says the Divine, praise be to Its name.” The priest heaved a cough, doing his best to read a piece of paper he was holding. This old sack of bones needed notes when he wasn’t reciting scripture. “On to a terrifying incident that has just befallen our community, one that I believe we should take as a warning for how things will be if we stray from the Divine Path. A case of a fugitive slave has been brought up…”

Jacob perked his ears upon the mention of a fugitive slave. He was slightly annoyed that his personal problems had somehow leaked to the ears of the priest, but this was no surprise. Clergymen were often intertwined in their local community after all, it wasn’t too odd for a priest to have heard about Jacob’s case from some people in the Adventurer’s Guild.

“Now, let us not forget this one simple truth: we must always make sure not to stray from the Divine Path. Let us not forget of the tribes and peoples that the Divine, praise be to Its name, condemned when they dared, with endless impudence, rebelled against Its law and word. Despite what some heretics may say, in complete blindness to The Hallow Word, slavery is a natural part of this world’s order. Being against what’s sanctioned by scripture rebellion against The Hallow Word, the Divine (praise be to Its name), Its Prophet (praise be to His name), and society itself, not to mention that abetting fugitives is a crime against the rights of your fellow Believer. One who does so is no different from a thief, equally damned in the eyes of the Divine, praise be to Its name.” The priest’s eyes directly locked with Jacob. “May the Divine, praise be to Its name, keep sending Its messengers to guide us through these tumultuous times.”

The priest looked like he intended to give further sermon, but the chime of the bell interrupted him. It was time to pray. “Praise be to Its name.” The priest put down his notes, preparing himself for prayer, which was conducted in a language that was long dead in Gemeinplatz. Jacob himself didn’t know what words he said while he was praying, so he mostly just moved his mouth around to look as if he was participating.

The prayer was conducted by the priest, with the flock following him. They sat up from their pillows, raised their hands toward the sky in unison while the priest chanted the prayer out loud for the crowd’s convenience. Then their heads went toward their stomach, then up again, then they prostrated… Jacob shut off his mind while going through this procedure. He was sure that everyone did. This wasn’t really anything dissimilar to how he had felt in church.

“Amen.” With this the flock ended their ‘hallow gymnastics routine’, this was the closest word that Jacob had to describe the experience.

He went out of the temple with the rest of the others, back to the café where Jacob would continue his Divinely sanctioned job.

Chapter 10: Chapter VII – Blessed are the adventurers.

Chapter Text

58^th of Spring, 5859
Mount Curry, Azdavay / Casamonu

The eternal rain suddenly came to a close in Casamonu as if God himself got tired of the constant downpour. The mountain bloomed once again with life as the temperatures returned to a milder state. It was still cold, especially up in the mountains, but not cold enough to freeze one to death.

Brown woke up, seeing the sun shining through the clouds for the first time in weeks. The ground had mostly dried up, making it suitable for travel. It was time.

“Young lady… Ayomide! Wake up!” Brown softly shook Ayomide, who laid on the other side of the cave. She was fast asleep under the bear pelt, as usual.

Ayomide mumbled some semi-coherent words as she tried to resist waking up. “Mmh… Give me ten minutes… or ten hours.”

“As a wise man once said, young lady: The early bird gets the worm.”

“But I’m not a bird…”

“That doesn’t matter, does it? Come on, get up young lady, the sun’s already shining.”

“No, it hasn’t been shining for- Yes it is shining. Huh.” Ayomide turned around to meet the sun. “Alright, give me a sec…” She yawned and stretched her arms before rising up from the pelt. The two had breakfast, consisting of cooked slime and boiled bird eggs, while they also discussed their plans for the day.

“So, young lady, Providence has granted us with clear skies today.” Ayomide cringed slightly at Brown’s overly grandiose form of speech “Thus, I’d say that it is time for us to begin my journey to Azdavay.”

Ayomide raised an eyebrow. ‘My?’ “Am I not travelling with you, old man?”

Brown stated the obvious “I don’t think it’d be a good idea for the young lady to go nearby to the town she escaped from.”

Right, there is that aspect to that. But… “Didn’t the adventurers say that travelling by your lonesome through the forest is a bad idea? I could just not enter the town itself while you do the shopping and whatnot.”

Brown closed his eyes to think for a second. “Hmm… It’s your choice, young lady. I can’t and won’t force you to take or not take such a risk. I’ll be fine with our Heavenly Father watching over us.”

If he watched over you so much then why did you end up being executed? “We’re comrades-in-arms, right?” Even though we haven’t had done much… or any fighting. “It simply wouldn’t do if you were to end up being mauled by some weird forest creature.” Ayomide considered herself somewhat lucky due to not having met such a fate.

“Then, young lady, it is decided. We shall set off together to Azdavay.” Brown looked to be pleased at Ayomide’s decision. Comrades were not dime-a-dozen, especially in these mountains most foreign to him. “Let us get ready for our journey!”

The forest of Azdavay, along with the forests of the rest of Casamonu and the northern part of Gemeinplatz, were famous for its vastness. Various forms of deciduous, broad-leaved trees covered the landscape as if they were part of an endless green ocean. Most famous of these trees were the tilia trees and their fruit, whom the locals would often dry to make tilia tea, and chestnuts that were always a welcome addition to one’s diet during winter. Yet, the ones currently visiting the forest were definitely not concerned with any of the aforementioned.

“Why do forests have to have so many bugs!” Shinasi groaned as he swung his spear wildly, in a futile attempt to drive off the flies that had come out in the dry weather.

“You know, flies usually buzz around food that’s left around. Maybe they wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t a milksop.” replied Shakira. She confidently carried her enormous sword on her shoulder, not openly bothered by the flies.

“Am I a milksop or a winesop?! By the Otherworld, at least be consistent!”

Conversation in the forest that surrounded Azdavay went thus. Mud and heat had made the land like heaven for flies looking for easy prey, and foolish adventurers were falling for the flies’ trap.

Their bickering was brought to an end by Shakir. “Ssh! Calm down young’uns, there’s somebody up on the road.” The adventurers suddenly assumed professionality, stopping their bickering and brandishing their weapons. The adventurer’s code stated that one must look cool at all times, and they made sure to abide them.

The figure on the road waved his hand in greeting. “Greetings, fellow travelers!”

“It’s the mountain hermit again.” Shinasi kept cool as Brown approached the adventurer group. The old man was carrying two makeshift spears on one hand while carrying a large clay jar with the other.

Shakir took the job of doing the greeting. “What a coincidence, Mister Brown. What brings you to this road?”

“I was heading down to Azdavay to sell my soap.” Brown pointed at the clay jar that he was carrying. “Your group seems to be heading back as well, I’d be honored to accompany you to Azdavay.”

The adventurers looked at each other in a displeased fashion. Adventurers weren’t wont to providing protection for free. “Well, you see… Uhm…” Shakir began cooking up some excuse to refuse Brown.

Brown understood what they wanted from the look on their faces. “I’m willing to provide you a cut of the profits if you guard me.”

The tone of the adventurers quickly shifted “Gladly sir, we’ll provide our protection!” Shakir smiled as he signaled his comrades to continue their march. Getting a bonus is always nice, innit. With negotiations out of the way, the group of four was free to march on to Azdavay.

Half an hour passed, and the quartet marched on without incident.

Shinasi stretched his arms and yawned. I’m bored. There’s nothing attacking me other than flies- He stopped this train of thought; it was bad luck to internally and / or externally monologue about things being peaceful.

“What the- [Lightning Missiaagh!” Shakir was suddenly snatched by a green, plant-like tentacle before he could counter it. The remaining trio quickly turned around to meet the source hiding behind the trees: an odd monster that looked like the lovechild of a tulip and an onion. It’s body, as tall as Brown, consisted of a bulb that resembled a blue onion crowned with a red tulip-like flower on top. Several ‘tentacles’, four of them in fact, extended from the bottom of its body with one of them currently holding Shakir.

“What hath God wrought upon this realm…” Brown quickly tossed his jar of soap aside and readied his spears for throwing. Before he could draw first blood however, Shakira rushed with her sufficiently enormous sword to cut the overgrown vegetable. The veggie calmly responded by wrapping her sword with tentacles, blocking her from swinging it.

“Accursed vegetable! Go back to the cutting board where you belong!” Try as she may, Shakira was unable to regain control of her weapon.

“Shakira! This guy’s one of those weaponnapper, we won’t get very far with our weapons!” As if to prove Shinasi’s point, the weaponnapper nabbed his spear.

Shakir was being swung around by the weaponnapper, his body upside-down. The tentacles were wringing him like a wet towel, a scene that’d be the source of fanservice if he wasn’t an old man. “I’ll get him, [Lightning Misspuwah!” He was instantly knocked out by the monster knocking him into a tree.

Brown took a step back to think, before being struck with an idea. He picked up one of his bars of soap from the ground and threw the bar at the monster. The monster caught the bar of soap like any other weapon, as planned so far.

All four of the weaponnapper’s tentacles were now busy holding something. Brown took his spears and threw them in quick succession. His skills at the spear had greatly improved in the two months he had been in Gemeinplatz; one of the spears landed on the tentacle holding Shakir while the other hit the beast right in the bulb. Shakir landed on the ground with a grand thud, being no help as he was still knocked out.

Unfortunately for Brown his spears didn’t seem to be too effective. The weaponnapper used its newly freed tentacle to grab the human who had assailed it. Brown was now left incapacitated by the tentacles surrounding and slowly strangling him. A pious evangelical like John Brown couldn’t Hail Mary out of this sticky situation. He could only pray for some sort of intervention, whether it be divine or profane (though, according to Brown’s fatalistic point of view, any sort of intervention could be considered ‘divine’) mattered not.

Suddenly a figure clad in bear’s pelt jumped out from behind the trees. “Leave the old man alone, you stinky onion!” Ayomide had been trailing behind Brown ever since they had encountered the adventurers. She had intended to keep herself hidden from the adventurers, however, this was no time for stealth.

Ayomide rushed forward to meet the weaponnapper, with one of Brown’s makeshift spears in hand. The monster didn’t do anything as releasing any of its arms would mean potentially releasing a weapon that could harm it (its simple brain couldn’t comprehend the fact that soap is usually not a deadly weapon).

Ayomide was now ten feet (three meters) away from the monster. “[Breeze]!” She threw the spear at the monster’s bulb and, unlike Brown’s last futile attempt, used wind magic to increase its velocity. The spear went in with unnatural speed, piercing through the weaponnappers bulb and coming out from the other side to end up lodged in a nearby tree. The monster’s tentacles dropped to the floor, freeing Brown and everyone’s weapons. It seemed to move no more.

“Who the…” blurted Shinasi. His (and the other adventurers) questions were left unanswered as Ayomide ran away as fast as she ran in. Brown assumed a mildly surprised expression too, as if he had never seen Ayomide in his life. The adventurers stared at each other and Brown in shock while they tried to process what just happened.

“All’s well that ends well.” commented Brown after sufficiently having thanked the Lord for His intervention.

Shakir was the first of the adventurers to recover. “Right… Right, all is well. Shakira, could you use that sword of yours to peel that flowery part of the weaponnapper?”

Shakira obliged, cutting open the ‘tulip’ to reveal a bunch of giant seeds packed inside, along with a glowing semi-solid orb of what looked like nectar.

“Think that this will sell for some money?” commented Shinasi upon observance of their loot.

Shakir smirked and rubbed his hands together in reply. “Will it sell? Of course, it will!” Weaponnapper seeds and nectar were an upper-class delicacy that, while not being too uncommon, still sold for a decent sum. There was more than that they could carry; every seed was as big as a head of cabbage. Everyone, including Brown, took two seeds for themselves, the adventurers leaving the rest in hopes that they’d grow to be more weaponnappers to profit off of. The adventurers stored the nectar in their water flasks. They were close enough to town that they wouldn’t need to drink more water anyways.

With the looting done, the quartet reorganized once again to continue their march on Azdavay…

Chapter 11: Chapter VIII – Blessed are the soapmakers.

Chapter Text

Fields and paddies of wheat, barley, rice, lentils and potatoes lined up alongside Tilia Stream showing hints of impending human civilization. The wheat on the fields was still green; it’d be around a month before the peasants would get to work reaping what they had sown. Unlike the wheat fields, the potato fields were filled with your usual mix of oxen, donkeys and bipedal, dinosaur-like creatures pulling ploughs to unearth potatoes. Brown was happy to see that the crops of this realm were mostly ordinary, things would’ve been hard for him (in the culinary sense) if they were sowing cabbages or anything similarly odd. Another point of note for Brown was the occasional laborer wearing metal cuffs: They were the chattel slaves working in the fields alongside the peasants.

Along the road were also small groups of peasants on break, it was simply impossible to keep laboring the whole day much to the chagrin of their lords, chatting away and cooking meals on metal pots. Some of their peasant acquaintances greeted the adventurers in passing, the sneaky and generous kinds handing the adventurers a potato or two as a gift. It was a good for them to keep on good terms with the adventurers, lest the glorified mercenaries decide that they’d rather stop killing the monsters outside their villages.

Slowly the earthen path became one of gravel and stone, and the town of Azdavay appeared in the distance, marked by a roadside sign that read (in Low Gemeinplatzian, misspelt English, terrible Chinese transcription, somewhat decent Japanese and Korean all written side-by-side) something like “AZDAVAY”. Of course, Brown could only read the English transcription on the sign, which was written as “ΛSOΛUΛV”.

It was only at this moment that Brown realized that he hadn’t been speaking English with other people all this time, he hadn’t noticed since one usually didn’t instantly and magically acquire a foreign language. He didn’t ponder on it for too long; this was clearly just divine intervention helping him not get too lost.

The first that Brown noticed about the town was its palisades, comprised of 3 feet (1 meter) tall wooden posts supported by a base of fired clay bricks and earth. A few guards paced to-and-fro behind the palisades, keeping on lookout for anything unsavory. The palisade was cut off by a small gate, about two men wide, manned by two guards watching people as they went in and out the town. Their duties included halting people to make them pay a toll for entering the town; the adventurers (and Brown, on virtue of being with them) would pass with no problem thanks to being exempt from tolls, as the guild would pay for them. The guards recognized the trio and nodded to show that they could indeed pass.

Brown passed through the gate, meeting with a Gemeinplatzian town for the first time. The town was of a decent size, containing around a thousand residents along with a sizable population of passersby. Most of the buildings were constructed out of wood from the forest surrounding the town, while the middle and upper-class dwellings were made of clay brick and concrete.

In terms of its inhabitants, the people of Azdavay had a sense of fashion that was in line with the rest of Gemeinplatz. Doublets and hoses were aplenty, along with gowns and kirtles. Chaperons, hats ranging from wide-brimmed to no-brimmed, fezzes and fancy turbans sat on top of the heads of the citizenry. These were not all, however, for influence from otherworlders had also greatly influenced fashion. An odd mishmash of modern Western clothing, suits, jeans, frilly cravats and maid outfits along with an equally odd mishmash of Eastern clothing, qipao, kimono and hanbok, were also worn.

Brown followed the adventurers to the Adventurer’s Guild building that stood next to town square. The town square also functioned as a marketplace; the whole square was covered by a grand roof, under this roof lay various stalls. The craftsmen of Azdavay, mostly comprised of potters, coppersmiths and masons, inhabited the buildings around this square.

It was already nighttime by the time the group had reached the town. The adventurers invited him to stay with them; Brown accepted their offer. The adventurer’s all presented their personal badges, made of bronze, to a guard next to the guild buildings entrance. Brown was able to enter with them, despite obviously lacking any badge, thanks to the wonderful power of nepotism.

Brown’s nose was suddenly assaulted by a coalition of booze, sweat, and other undesirable smells upon entering the building. The people of the guild had already gotten into a ‘merry’ mood that Brown frankly wanted no part of.

Brown excused himself. “I’ll be hitting the hay, travelers.”

“Ah, wait a second Mr. Brown.” Shakir stopped Brown from leaving. “Don’t sleep before cashing in your loot: some adventurers have a tendency to steal from others.”

“Cash in my loot?” Brown suddenly remembered the two giant seeds he was still carrying in his pocket. “Right, thank you for reminding me. Where would I go about cashing these in?”

Shakir pointed to a small line in front of a desk that sat in the corner of the building. There was a small queue in front of it, which Brown joined along with Shakir’s group in lining up.

“Next! Come on, no arguing about prices, it’s all standardized. Shush now.” The receptionist, who was a middle-aged woman that seemed to be done with life, called out to her next customer. Brown had finally reached his goal, after ten minutes of queuing. He gave his seeds to the receptionist, who quickly flipped the pages of a notebook containing prices set by the guild.

“Four libra fifty groschen.” She took out five coins, four of them made of iron surrounded by a thin ring of electrum and one of them made of copper surrounded by a ring of iron, and handed it over to Brown.

“Mr. Brown, that soap is made from slime, right?” Shakir, standing next in line to Brown, was referring to the jar of soap that Brown was still carrying. “You can sell it to the guild as well, since it’s a product made from monsters.”

Brown handed over his jar of soap to the receptionist. She took out all the soap, five bars in total, and weighed them down on a scale that sat on her desk. “One libra fifty groschen.”

“Could you give me that amount as three 50 groschen coins, miss?” Brown received three coins, and he gave one to each member of Shakir’s party as payment per his promise. He asked them where their lodgings were, and bid farewell to the group so that he could finally get a good night’s sleep after around ten hours of travel.

Brown’s room was in the third floor of the building. It was a cramped room for twenty, shared by visiting adventurers, with beds made of straw resting on the floor. It was far more luxurious compared to sleeping on the cave floor, and Brown thanked the Lord for providing him with such suitable accommodation. He hit the hay, literally and figuratively, and finally had a nice night’s sleep.

Ayomide was staying the forest just outside of Azdavay, and was currently trying to catch some sleep. She couldn’t light a fire, thankfully the bear pelt gifted by Brown was enough to keep her from freezing.

Her attempt at sleeping was suddenly interrupted when she heard footsteps heading her direction. Ayomide quickly jumped up, readied a spear, and slowly began walking away from the direction where the footsteps were coming from.

Suddenly the footsteps stopped. Ayomide tried looking around her, she could clearly see everything at night thanks to having night vision, to no avail. There seemed to be nothing. Perhaps I’m just imagining things…

“You’re an inexperienced one.” Ayomide found cold steel, in the form of a knife, standing a hair away from her neck. Gulp. She quickly turned her neck around to meet her unexpected guest. This guest was a woman slightly older and much taller than her, with a black hood that covered her face. Ayomide could tell from the woman’s hand, currently busy holding the knife, that she had black skin.

Ayomide wasn’t exactly sure what to do in this situation. “So, uhh… Hello? I- I don’t think I have any quarrel with you…”

“Me neither, sister.” The woman drew the knife back and freed Ayomide. “Just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t impale me with that spear of yours.”

Yeah, I would’ve probably impaled her in shock if she approached from the front… Wait, sister? “You’re my sister? We look nothing alike.” Nor are we the same species, Miss Human.

The hooded woman shrugged. “Aren’t we all sisters in the struggle for liberty?” She opened her hood, revealing her face and curled black hair. “Sorry for startling you, I’m... I guess there’s no problem in giving my name to a sister. I’m Kyauta. Happy to meet you.”

“And I’m sorry for almost impaling you, I’m Ayomide. Pleased to meet you.” Ayomide smiled; she was happy to have a conversation partner that wasn’t an old white man from 19^th-century America. Brown was a good man, no doubt, but he and her being from another world made communication awkward. Plus, you could only talk so much to the same person for two months. “So, why are you ‘round these parts? I don’t think anyone of the sane sort would be here at such a time.”

“I could ask you the same thing. Being around towns and cities isn’t a good idea for us, sister. Have you newly escaped from this town, perchance?”

“No, I’ve been free for… Well, I haven’t checked the exact date, but I should’ve escaped around the end of Winter. There’s this old hermit in a cave, name’s John Brown, that I’ve been living with. He’s of the odd, Awmereighkan otherworlder sort.” Ayomide stopped there, at the point where Kyauta seemed most intrigued. “So, I’ve given you my reason. What’s yours?”

“Sorry, I can’t elaborate too much in case you get captured, sister. It’d be trouble if they got you to talk.” Kyauta shook her head. “I’ll just tell you that I’m here to help Miss Moses’ exodus.”

Moses, exodus… Right, that’s one of the stories Brown told me. “Wait, Miss Moses? Isn’t Moses a man? Plus, I’m pretty sure he’s supposed to be living in Kanein with the Juice and whatnot, he’s definitely not in Casamonu…”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with who Moses is for now, sister.” Kyauta went silent on that topic, to indicate that she won’t elaborate further.

“Right, good luck on your mission then… Sister.” Wonder why she wanted to converse with me… Maybe she’s trying to gather intelligence?

“Thank you, may the Lord be with you. I’ll have to go now to fulfil my mission. See you, sister.” Kyauta closed her hood, and left as quickly as she came.

Ayomide yawned as she got back on her bear pelt. It was getting late; she couldn’t resist the temptations of sleep…

Chapter 12: Chapter IX – Blessed are the guild-members.

Chapter Text

“Oh, Mr. Brown? You’re awake.” Shakir had found Brown sitting alone on a stool that sat far away in the corner of the guild building. It was still early in the morning, so early that the sun hadn’t even come out in fact.

“You know, us old folk can’t get much sleep.” Brown had been spending these early hours in prayer while waiting for everyone else to wake up. He planned to go out to the market, to see if there was anything that could help him and Ayomide, once the hour was more suitable.

“You’ve got that right. I haven’t had proper sleep in like, what, ten-twenty years? Not to mention the horrible back pain. Sigh. Oh, how time flies by…” They were having the idlest of conversation, the sort that only old men would be able to have.

“I’m surprised that you’re doing, as far as I’ve been able to tell, such a dangerous job at this age, Mister Shakir.” Brown didn’t fully comprehend what these adventurers were doing, but he had understood that it had something to do with hunting weird beasts akin to the giant onion he saw in the forest.

“Well, you know, I do think that sometimes. But the Adventurer’s Guild the only real way some commoner like me can make a living outside of working the fields.” Shakir took a look at Brown, scanning him. “You’re an otherworlder, right? From Awmereighka. I can tell from your name. Why don’t you join us in adventure? Most otherworlders advance quickly through the ranks with the cheat skills they get when they die.”

“Cheat skill?” Brown stroked his beard with his hand as he thought of what ‘cheat skill’ he could have. “Well, if I do say so myself, I have skills in tanning, herding sheep, grading wool, surveying land and marksmanship, not anything I’d call a ‘cheat skill’ by any means. I’ve all acquired those skills through years of honest work, not through cheating God forbid.”

“Still, your skills in combat aren’t bad. Especially that move of yours with the bar of soap, it was pretty clever. I think we would work as a quartet pretty well.” Shakir extended his hand forward, meaning to shake the hand of Brown. Having an otherworlder in our party would certainly increase our prestige.

Brown refused to shake the man’s hand. “Thank you for the offer, Mr. Shakir, but I’d rather earn my living through honest labor, like tanning and herding, not through being a bounty hunter. Our Maker rewards hard and honest work, you see.”

Shakir looked puzzled and frustrated. “What about our work isn’t honest? We protect the people of the town from monsters, and they pay us in return. I don’t know any work more honest than protecting the lives of people, do you?” Shakir shrugged in a rhetorical manner. “Plus, forget about making your work through craftsmanship in the city. The Adventurer’s Guild of Azdavay isn’t the only guild in this town, the Tanner’s Guild and the Leatherworker’s Guild would be on your tail the moment you tried to encroach on their business. I don’t think you could gain membership for them, being very much an outsider in every way.”

The only experience that Brown had with anything guild-like was his brief stint of being a member of the Freemasons in Ohio as a Master Mason, though the Freemasons were a fraternal organization and not a trade guild like those in Azdavay. He had already grown tired of what he saw as vain and silly ceremonies back in America; Brown truthfully didn’t want to try entering any guild even if he could.

Being unable to sell anything outside the permission of guilds did present a challenge though… It seemed that he’d have to court these adventurers, for a bit, to be able to earn funds. “I’d not have any problems helping you out, as long as you do not involve yourself in unsavory work like catching escaped slaves.”

“Ah? You were angry about that? Well, I don’t really have anything against the slaves, but a man’s gotta eat, you know? Somebody else would take the job if we didn’t do it.”

“Then, we shall not have a deal, ever. ‘Better is little with the fear of the Lord than great treasure and trouble therewith.’, sir. I believe it’d benefit you to keep this in mind.” Brown didn’t want to, even indirectly, help slaveowners in any manner. He was not a man of compromise in this matter.

Shakir contented with letting out a grumble of disappointment, before excusing himself. “Bunch of bleeding hearts…” He walked out the building, to take in a whiff of fresh air and tobacco.

Brown was not left alone for long, after an hour of lonely prayer a few visitors entered and exited the guild building as daylight slowly returned. Most of them were there to get updates from the receptionist on the quests they had put up, some had come to put up new ones.

“I need someone to slay five hungry wild dogs. No, not wild dogs, hungry wild dogs.”

“Have you still not found my dear boy Rucio?”

“Could you do me a one small favor? I need a piece of red mahogany…”

Brown got up his seat, intending to head outside now that the town had woken up. He had to do shopping, although he had no idea how much he could shop using the meager amount of money he had earned. It’d be useful to find out what (and for how much) was available at the market regardless.

The market wasn’t lively, as it was still early in the morning, providing opportunity for Brown to quickly march around and mentally take note of the prices. Thankfully, the people of this realm predominantly used Western Arabic numerals, making Brown’s job much easier. All of the items on sale were items of food or drink, along with what Brown assumed were small items of religious artwork of some sort like statues, carvings and other bits and bobs.

There wasn’t anything of much interest in the market square, so Brown moved onto browsing the workshops of Azdavay’s artisans that lay alongside the town’s busy streets. He couldn’t avoid bumping into people as he walked.

These artisans, in a pre-industrial economy like Gemeinplatz where goods couldn’t be made and shipped from China or mass-produced in factories, made up the heart of the town’s economy. Since a majority of folk, currently including Brown, were illiterate the artisans hung up signs that visually communicated what they did. Tongs for blacksmiths, hammers for masons, barrels for coopers… Brown again checked the prices as he went by.

Brown learned that the bear fur worn by Ayomide cost something around 100 libra, which would be a great boost to their economic fortune if they could find a way to sell it. Another item of interest for Brown was weaponry, he found that the most advanced form of ranged weaponry on offer were crossbows, the cheapest ones starting from 200 libra.

Eventually Brown stumbled upon a sign that interested him, one that had a crude drawing of a scale and some coins, and he entered the workshop. On the inside of the shop sat innumerable bundles of textile consisting primarily of wool and cotton with a few bundles of shiny silk locked behind a glass showcase. No, this place looked too fancy for what Brown needed. He turned back and left the shop, only to see what he was actually looking for across the street. It was a building, with a sign in front that read (in English, and all the other languages common in Gemeinplatz) “Second Hand”. This was more in line with what he was looking for: somewhere to buy cheap items that’d help him back home.

Upon entrance however, Brown was greeted by something that was clearly not a secondhand but a second hand shop. This ‘second hand’ shop was shaped like an alleyway that extended around 150 feet (50 meters) long. Under this alleyway were cages were laid various people, of all sexes ranging from children to the elderly bound in chains, and a podium of sort at the end of the alleyway where prospective buyers were inspecting their chattel to see if they had any physical problems. Some inspected the teeth, some commanded the slaves to walk to see if they were lame, some inspected their bodies for musculature. A cacophony of screams and shouts, from the frightened slaves and the shop owners berating them with words and whips, could be heard.

It was thus, slavery in its purest form, “the most barbarous, unprovoked and unjustifiable war of one portion of its citizens against another portion, the only conditions of which are perpetual imprisonment and hopeless servitude”.

Old John Brown had expected to encounter slavery. He had expected to encounter crimes against humanity. He had not expected these to play out in the same fashion.

Brown felt greatly sickened, he’d have personally annihilated every proprietor and customer in that damned building if he had the power to. Seeing similar scenes play out in a completely different realm only steeled his resolve, though his resolve to carry out his divine mission to liberate every man on not-Earth hadn’t died down one bit. Gemeinplatz was a land that was foreign to him; humanity was not foreign. Humanity deserved to be free no matter where it came from.

For now, Brown stood silent as he observed the happenings inside the second hand shop. He had to keep himself for doing anything brash that’d ruin his chances, Providence rewarded those who were patient after all.

“Sir Smith, I think she’d be of use?” And reward Providence did. Brown noticed a name that was of interest to him.

Jacob, who was being presented a group of olive-skinned slaves, replied. “Nah, the skin’s too dark. My customers like them white, not exotic. I need only the best for my café. Gimme something that’s like jade.” Brown recognized him from Ayomide’s accounts of the young man.

“Sorry sir, but Sir Dong came by earlier this morning to buy all the ‘jade-beauties’ as he calls them.” The seller scratched his head, thinking of the ways he could salvage this situation. “We have a new batch coming from Kafkasy next month, would you like to reserve one of them?”

“I’d like to reserve three for picking.” Jacob extended his hand to signal that they had a deal. The seller shook his hand in agreement.

“I’ll be sure to reserve the finest for you, sir. Pleasure doing business with you.” The seller had a pleased smile on his face as he parted with Jacob. Clearly, he had just concluded a very profitable deal.

Jacob left, having concluded his business, and Brown tailed him. He thought that he should begin this emancipation business with a man that he had come to know well through Ayomide. Brown patted his pockets to look for the knife he had acquired from the late Watanabe Generico, to check if he was ready to conduct business if it came to that point.

Brown was pleased to feel his knife in its usual spot, but surprised when he felt a flat object in his other pocket. He took out this foreign object from his pocket, which turned out to be a paper with a message in the Gemeinplatzian language transcribed into the Latin alphabet. It was a bit hard to understand the transcribed language, but Brown was able to eventually understand what was written.

TO J. BROWN: TODAY IS EXODUS. BE AWARE. YOUR HELP WILL BE APPRECIATED.

Chapter 13: Chapter X – Blessed are the fugitives.

Chapter Text

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“Welcome home, master.” One of the ‘employees’ of Jacob’s café, a white-skinned waitress, bowed down in greeting. A few of the employees did the same in response, even the ones under his mind-control spell as he made them do so. This felt great to Jacob, a former nobody back in Florida.

Life was great.

Before he could move upstairs to his office, he heard the bell on the door jingle as the first customer of the day entered. “Hmm… This place is in line with how I imagined it to be.” To his shock, this customer spoke in English in perfect Yankee dialect. He turned around to see an old man, dressed in a sharp leather coat, perusing his establishment in a most casual manner. This customer seemed to have the appearance of a well-bred gentleman, which aroused Jacob’s curiosity as to why he was visiting a maid café in Azdavay.

Jacob replied to the man in English with his Southern accent. “Howdy- Ahem, I meant to say, welcome, sir. How may I help you? I reckon a gentleman like you wouldn’t have an ordinary reason to be here?”

“You see Sir Jacob, I’m on a tour to… study how these ‘maid café’ establishments work.” Brown, over his sixty years of living, had become quite adept in bluffing and BS-ing. He had been working on his script while following Jacob into the café. “I’ve heard yours being mentioned by a few of my acquaintances as a ‘maid café of exemplary quality’, I couldn’t pass by Azdavay without checking it out.”

Jacob was touched by the praise (apparently) being showered on his establishment. The American education system had failed him so greatly that he couldn’t recognize who the man in front of him was. “Oh, now ain’t that nice… Well, sir, I’ll say that you’ve stumbled upon the right establishment! We only have the finest girls here, as y’all will see shortly. I’ll carry you sir, through a tour of my establishment.” Jacob clapped his hands, and the waitress from before showed up to answer him. “What’d you like, sir?”

“Prepare, for me and this gent, a glass of co*ke and some fried taters and chicken.” He turned back to Brown. “Let me give you a taste of Southern hospitality, sir. It wouldn’t do to give you a tour on an empty stomach.” Jacob then led the Brown upstairs to his lavishly decorated office. It was a brightly lit room, with a huge window looking toward the street and the rooves outside, with a desk for personal business and a table for welcoming guests. “Come on sir, don’t be hesitant.” Jacob and Brown sat face to face.

Jacob initiated the conversation. “Now sir, I’ve been so rude as to not ask your name.”

“I’m…” Brown stopped just before giving his name. It probably wasn’t a good idea to give the Florida man his real identity. “…Isaac Smith. Pleased to meet you.”

“And you’re from the North, I imagine? Which state, and from when?”

“I’m from Connecticut, though I do not get what you mean by ‘when’ I am from, Sir Jacob.”

“I mean, what year was it, on Earth, when you toted yourself to Gemeinplatz? For example, it was 2023 when a truck hit me.” Jacob seemed too happy for a man recounting his death.

Brown was confused as to how this young man could have been killed by some small carriage. Maybe a ‘truck hitting someone’ was a weird Southern phrase from the 21^st century he had never heard of? “Right, I believe it was 1859 when a… truck hit me as well.”

Jacob became even more confused than Brown. “Huh? I don’t think trucks existed in the 19^th century.”

“I can assure you, young man, that trucks existed back in the 19^th century.” He had last seen a truck holding the cannon that pointed at him during his execution.

“Moving on from that, you’re from the 19^th century?!” Jacob was surprised to see a man who was, chronologically, more than two hundred years older than him. He dropped his air of formality in excitement. “Man, you’re from back when America was based. Holy moly…”

“Based? Based on what?” Brown hadn’t had the chance to be updated on newfangled Internet lingo, nor did he even know what an ‘Internet’ was.

“Ah, sorry. It’s a modern English phrase meaning something like ‘admirable’, or something like that.” Jacob was now sincerely excited to be speaking to someone from the past. “So, do you know what ‘cringe’ means?”

“Uhm… This?” Brown flinched his eyes, cringing as if he was disgusted by something (not to mention the actual disgust he was feeling at this moment).

“I mean, cringe means that too, true. But ‘cringe’ can also be used as an antonym for ‘based’. You got that, Sir Smith?” Jacob couldn’t keep himself from immaturely giggling at the inherent absurdity in teaching a real 19^th century man Internet lingo.

Brown himself was internally cringing at the conversation. Thankfully, he was saved for a moment by two servants entering the room with ‘co*ke’ and ‘fried taters and chicken’. They served these ‘delicacies’ on the table, before bowing a farewell and leaving the room.

“Sir Smith, I advise you taste some of this co*ke.” The co*ke rested in a wine glass, as if it was some high-class drink. “It’s nothing like what I had back in America, but I think I got close enough.” Jacob raised one of the glasses to take a sip himself. Brown took one too, and struggled not to spit it out immediately afterwards. The drink, being a mix of carbonated water, weaponnapper nectar and an ungodly amount of sugar, tasted too alien for Brown’s palate.

Brown tried to steer the conversation to a more ordinary place after struggling to gulp down the co*ke. “Cough, hack- Ahem. So, Sir Jacob, what were you meaning to say when America was ‘based’ back in my time?” He was curious as to how the United States had developed in his long absence.

“Yeah, the country really fell off, you know? Became too woke.” Brown wasn’t sure as to what the hell a ‘woke’ could mean, other than being the past tense of ‘wake’, but he continued listening to Jacob “Like, I think you might’ve been hit by the truck before that happened, a civil war happened. Guess who won?”

Brown didn’t know who the sides were in the American Civil War as he had died just before it, but he could make an educated guess as to what it might have been about and why this Southerner was lamenting it. “The North?” Brown was surprised that this young man seemed so angry at an event that had happened over a hundred years before he was born. This young man seemed to be a lost cause.

Jacob seemed to be seething. “Yes! The War of Northern Aggression concluded with the feds curtailing our states’ rights!”

Brown lowered his voice, staring directly at Jacob. “States’ rights to what, young man?”

Jacob didn’t seem taken aback. He had had this argument many times on forums before. “States’ right to determine their own laws and keep their own autonomy, of course!”

Brown kept passively-aggressively staring at Jacob. “States’ rights to determine what, young man?”

This was usually the point where Jacob would call his opponent a slur and disengage the debate, but he couldn’t exactly do that when his opponent was a man that was sitting right across him. “Never mind that! What was important was that the poor Southerners were subjected to the tyranny of the majority!” At least moving goal posts still worked, right?

“Yes, but I am still curious, and I’d like it if you could enlighten a poor old man like me on history. States’ rights to what, young man?” Brown wasn’t a stranger to debate; this young man was nothing to someone like Frederick Douglass. Such cheap tricks wouldn’t work on him.

Jacob had lost his composure by this point. “States’ rights to treat those…” here he dropped a racial slur that has been omitted from the text “…like they deserve to be treated, of course! You know how many…” here he dropped another one “…frolic in the South, dirtying our land? For God’s sake, some of those dirty commie…” Jacob sure loves that word, doesn’t he “…even elected one of their own asses as president! We gave them the right to vote due to some bleeding hearts crying about ‘racism’ and whatnot! It’s been a slippery slope all the way down to…” yep, that’s another one “…degeneracy since the 1850s!”

Brown was surprised and ashamed to see, from what he had seen as a modern man of the second millennium, a slurry of slurs that could rival the average Southern plantation owner in its audacity.

Jacob paused, going back to ‘hiding his power level’, so to speak. “Ahem… Excuse my heated gaming moment.” He coughed a few times to calm himself down. “Of course, a fine gentleman like you wouldn’t be- What?” His eyes were drawn outside the window, where a group of about a dozen were scurrying on the streets. From the cuffs on their hands and necks he could see that they were slaves. “Jesus Christ, what the hell’s going on?!” He quickly got up from the chair and began watching the ruckus outside, forgetting about his guest.

Brown could see the ruckus outside too. There seemed to be an exodus of slaves… An exodus? That seemed familiar to him. Perhaps there was a way he could help…

“Ah shi- IE?!” Jacob found his throat being penetrated by the business end of Brown’s knife. He couldn’t cast spells, thanks to an excess of iron in his body blocking his vocal cords, leaving him without protection.

“Young man, I’d say that you were the one being ‘cringe’ and ‘unbased’ all along. May God have pity on your soul.” Brown held the knife there until Jacob stopped flapping his arms in a futile attempt to preserve his (after)life. The young man’s lifeless body dropped on the floor, running the expensive rug covering the floor. Thankfully, Jacob wasn’t in a state to care about his favorite rug being ruined.

Brown had done it now. It was time to act quickly, quietly, and efficiently. His first act was to being concealing himself. He quickly took the pompous fur cape of Jacob, his very-much-wide-brimmed hat, and his table cloth. He wore the cape and the hat to disguise his clothing, and wrapped the table cloth around as a bandana to conceal his face. Brown had been stuck for two months up on some mountain without being able to do anything; he was now ready to brawl.

While Brown was busy being a master of disguise, he heard the loud thuds from the bottom floor, along with trays crashing down and plates breaking. He quickly ran downstairs, to find the maid café in a state of utter chaos. The few customers in the café were shouting in panic, the non-mind-controlled slaves were joining them in panic, and the former mind-controlled slaves were laying on the ground.

One of the customers, a with clothing even more pompous than the late Jacob’s, noticed Brown as he was heading down. Brown hadn’t had time to wash his bloodied hands, one could easily understand that there had been some sort of crime committed upstairs.

This gentleman, furious at his fine dining being ruined, decided to apprehend this impostor among them. “[Binding Vines]!” Vines shot out of his hand, and headed toward Brown. Brown answered to this gentleman’s cheap parlor trick by slashing the vines with his knife before they could reach him. Brown began running toward the gentleman, slashing through the barrage of vines flying towards him. It wasn’t that Brown was too experienced in countering magic attacks; it was that the gentleman was too inexperienced in combat and attacked in a predictable manner by always aiming for Brown’s legs.

Brown took off the tablecloth of one of the tables, and a cacophony of crashing plates and cups ensued. “Sir, I think you should halt that uncouth mouth of yours casting the Devil’s work.” He folded the tablecloth into a rope-like shape while continuing to run towards the gentleman, who had exhausted his mana at this point.

The gentleman drew his saber, getting ready to enter close-quarters combat. Brown had other plans.

This gentleman was equally inexperienced in non-magical combat, so his stance was abysmal. He held the sword sideways, with not a shred of confidence in his face. Still, someone holding a sword was still dangerous no matter their skill. Brown began with remedying this issue, by kicking the gentleman’s hand holding the sword. The gentleman let go off the sword in pain; it flew off to the corner of the room. Before the gentleman could recover, Brown restrained and gagged the gentleman using the tablecloth / rope to block him from casting any spells. Holding the gag with his one hand and a knife next to the gentleman’s throat, Brown announced to the room:

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, calm down and listen to me or else this man’s life shall be forfeit!” Brown hadn’t planned any of this; he was winging it to the best of his capabilities at this point. He didn’t even know if the hostage he captured had any value. The people in the room, who were now all slaves as all the other customers had already escaped from the front door, suddenly took notice of Brown. They were quite confused as to why some old man was threatening them.

“Now that I have gotten your attention, I’d like to announce the beginning of your exodus.”

Chapter 14: Chapter XI – Blessed are the slaves.

Chapter Text

Brown now had a group of slaves staring at him, they of course knew him not. He had only planned to carry out reconnaissance in the town and learn the situation in this foreign realm; he didn’t expect that he’d be having to lead an exodus of slaves this early. The old man took in a deep breath, and let it out while closing his eyes. It was going to be fine. The Holy Spirit would surely lead them to liberty, or so thought Brown. Having confidence, no matter the source, helped one immensely.

He opened his eyes again to face the crowd cautiously observing him. Brown was calm.

“Ahem, as you might have noticed if you’ve peeked out of the window, there’s currently a great exodus of slaves in Azdavay. I have come here, to slay your master and help lead you to freedom. God willing, today you shall become freemen.”

One of the former slaves asked a question that everybody wanted to ask. “Who are you?!”

“I’m John Brown, the rest of my life story can be told later. Time is of the essence, ladies and gentleman. If you want to follow me, do so. If you don’t then don’t. We must act quickly, quietly and efficiently. Those who are willing to follow me, please raise your hands.” Brown looked at the audience to see how willing they looked. While he was a total stranger, he had gained more than a modicum of respect after having slain their former master. Plus, his calm and confident demeanor gave the impression that he really had a plan. He didn’t, but having the former slaves organize and group together would help their chances.

One reluctant hand was raised, and eleven more hands followed. This was a bit more than half the maid café. Brown was honestly surprised that he even managed to get that many people to agree with him in this situation. “Good, then please step forward. Four of you, go up to Jacob’s room and take any valuables you can find. Most important are weapons, bags and any item of jewelry. The other four, go to the kitchen and take all the food you can. Store them in pots, we’ll need them for cooking later. Also get ready to make a fire.”

He handed his knife, along with the hostage gentleman over to a freeman that looked physically strong. With his freed hands he picked up the sword that the gentleman had dropped. “You can hold on to our special guest for now. The rest of you, gather anything that could be used as a weapon for you and your comrades.” He held the sword up high, and swung it as if he was commanding troops for battle. “Now, forward! You shall get liberty, or you shall get death!”

Brown’s fervor and energy seemed to have rubbed off on to the group. They quickly discussed who should do what, and then split off to complete their mission. Brown personally oversaw the search for improvised weaponry.

The trio assigned to the job quickly searched the places they knew had potential weapons: the axe nominally for cutting firewood, knives in the kitchen, mops and other items of cleaning… They quickly rounded the potentially most lethal for use. The other groups had returned by the time they were done.

The quartet in Jacob’s room had found their master’s ornamental weapon stash, and returned with a spear and three swords. They also had found two satchels, which were now filled with coins and jewelry. The spear was given to a former guardsman, and the three swords were similarly given to those with prior combat experience. The rest of the group got the makeshift weaponry.

The kitchen team had returned pots filled with vegetables and fruits; items crucial to the groups survival once they got out of the town. They had also set fire to the kitchen while leaving. Soon the flames, of revolution and literal flames, would engulf the rest of the maid café.

The group of twelve looked energetic and jubilant now that their initial shock had worn off. The thought of liberty coming ever so closer with every drawing second, of them having a hand in saying how their lives would go on from now, gave them great fervor.

Brown observed this group with great joy. It seemed that, wherever he went, the base human desire for liberty and freedom was the same. “Alright, are we ready?”

“Aye aye!”

“Then let’s get this over with.” Brown opened the door, and pointed his sword outside. “Don’t forget, it’s either liberty or death out there. Forwards, march!”

Brown’s twelve apostles ran through the streets, swimming through a sea of confused onlookers. The town guard seemed to be busy with the group that Brown had seen earlier, so they had (so far) not seen any opposition to their escape. This tactic of shock-and-awe-and-run-away worked perfectly until the squad turned over and…

“Halt, and surrender!”

They found a street which was quite a basket case. A group of adventurers and concerned citizens had cornered the group of escaping slaves that Brown had seen previously. The cornered slaves were armed with whatever they could find, in a situation similar to Brown’s. What was odd about this group was that, among the barely clothed slaves, there also seemed to be a few people in nondescript commoner’s garb, with the strange addition of a black hood that covered their faces completely. These hooded figures were armed with quarterstaves tipped with lead.

One of these hooded figures seemed to be the leader of the group, and they were giving a speech. “We shall not surrender, but we’ll go peacefully if you’d only let us. We only desire our emancipation and nothing more!” The response to this request was a storm of insults and other unpleasant words that needn’t be mentioned. Still, the mob seemed reluctant to begin fighting. Being potentially injured to catch some slaves didn’t seem too appealing to any of them.

Upon seeing that the mob of concerned citizenry would not yield, the aforementioned hooded figure readied their quarterstaff for battle. “People, we have a right to have one of these two things in the world: Liberty or death. If we can’t have one, then we shall only have the other, for we shall fight as long as our strength lasts and none shall take us alive!” Their speech seemed to have roused the cornered slaves, who charged to meet the mob of citizens.

Observing the cornered slaves charge, Brown also addressed his own squad of former slaves. “You see your brothers and sisters over there, let us-” The men of the maid café charged before Brown could even finish his speech. He joined them in this charge as well, brandishing the sword of the gentleman against the gentleman of the town.

With the addition of Brown’s group, the citizen’s mob was sandwiched between two forces. This street fight lacked any tact or tactics as it devolved into individual fighting between inexperienced combatants with the few experienced combatants drowning in the sea of incompetency.

While the numbers of the mob were bigger, their morale was low compared to those fighting for their own liberty. Being surrounded from two sides also didn’t help. The first ones to break were the armed shopkeepers and artisans, who had only joined to protect their property from potential looting. Then came the adventurers, they didn’t exactly care about fighting if it didn’t involve any money. They’d be paid to hunt for the slaves later anyways. The miniscule town guard, seeing that they were now outnumbered, decided to formulate a ‘tactical retreat’ which involved them legging it without any tactics.

The street was now left littered with the bodies of the dead and wounded. Brown was left with eleven apostles, and the former cornered slave group had lost a dozen or so men. They didn’t have time to grieve the dead however, it’d be bad news if the town guard properly mobilized itself to meet the exodus.

“John Brown, you’ve shown yourself at last.” The head of the hooded figure squad waved to Brown. “Your help is appreciated. I hope that we’ll get to see each other again very soon.” They then lead their group away from Brown’s, splitting up to confuse the town guard. Brown didn’t have much time to ponder, similarly leading his squad of twelve towards the gates while doing his best to go through the backstreets. The residents of the town had gone hiding in their homes, afraid of what they saw as a roving band of savages, leaving the streets empty.

Thankfully, Azdavay wasn’t a that big of a town. It only took the group a few minutes to reach one of the gates, which were just two big wooden doors with two guards stationed to protect it. They had been expecting for the escaping slaves to go for the gates, with their crossbows ready to take aim at any unwelcome visitors.

The former slaves were much more athletic compared to Brown, who was about to enter his sixties, and the sword-carrying managed to climb the palisades without being noticed. The guards, taking aim at the gates and not their own palisades like sensible people, were taken by surprise and slain on the spot. The swordsmen came back, now also wielding two pavises and carrying two crossbows looted from the guardsmen.

The only thing between them and freedom was now the wooden gate, which was locked by a comically large plank stuck between the door’s handles. Thankfully, one of the former slaves still had the axe that had been taken from the kitchen of the maid café.

While they were busy with chopping the plank, unwelcome visitors had decided to show their face. A quartet of adventurers, all equipped with crossbows, were running towards the fugitives to take aim. They hadn’t had a chance to load their crossbows, they begin loading while staying at a safe distance. In response, the pavise-carrying swordsmen set their shields towards them to protect their comrades. It wasn’t a perfect defense however, as two pavises weren’t enough to cover everyone.

Four bolts ran out across the street, one of them managing to land a hit right on the knee of a former slave. The wounded man cried out as he fell on the ground. The adventurers were reloading. The plank was taking a lot longer than expected to break. Things weren’t going well.

Before another wave of bolts came raining down, Brown noticed a familiar adventurer running towards them. “Brown, old man, slow down for the Otherworld’s sake! I’ve been trying to catch up to you for…” It was Shinasi. The slaves readied their weapons to meet their foe, only for him to drop his spear onto the ground as a gesture of goodwill. “It looks like you all need a shield, sir.” Shinasi joined the line of pavises amongst the confused stares of the former slaves.

“Young man why are you-” The sound of bolts hitting the shields interrupted Brown’s speech, only for a moment. “You were trying to catch a slave just a few weeks ago, why are you here?”

“Well, I’ve had a lot of time to think since that giant onion almost wiped us out.” Another wave of bolts crashed on the shield wall. “The fugitive coming to save us wasn’t an accident, was it? Saving strangers in a tight situation, sir, is very much admirable according to me and the Adventurer’s Code.” Yet another wave of bolts interrupted him. “What- What I’m trying to tell is, if there’s someone like that amongst the fugitives, then why do we have to hunt down and enslave these people?” Shinasi had finally figured out something that, quite frankly, should be common sense.

“I’m glad that the Holy Spirit has led you on to a more righteous path, young man.”

The plank locking the gate finally split in twain. The former slaves cheered, running as fast as humanly possible while those bearing shields covered their escape. Then, making sure there was no one left behind, the shield-bearers and Brown made their tactical retreat as well, disappearing into the dense woodland of Azdavay.

In this chapter of the John Brown Isekai:

(Original post by u/Dak_Tiny_PP)

Chapter 15: Chapter XII – Blessed are the freemen.

Chapter Text

Ayomide was walking in a circle around the forest, waiting for Brown to return. She couldn’t move much: she and the old man had agreed to meet up in this spot outside of Azdavay.

“May this holy spirit, the holy father, or holy whatever, that leads the old man bring him back safely.” It was getting late. Too late. The old man should have wrapped up his surveying and shopping by now.

Just as Ayomide began considering packing up and returning back to the cave, he heard a small crowd chittering and chattering while getting closer to her spot. She got one of her spears ready, in case she needed to make a last stand.

“Young lady? Are you here? For the sake of your Maker, please put down that spear for we need no further bloodshed today.” Brown hadn’t actually come into view of Ayomide; he had just made a correct guess.

One of the freemen, who had been subject to Brown’s grand speeches for the last few hours along with the rest of the group, sighed. “Geezer, who you talking to? Holy spirits, lords, and now young ladies? What screws loose in your mind?”

“I think he’s correct about this young lady.” Shinasi, who had followed the group outside, replied. He was greeted with a spear landing an inch off his foot, Ayomide following suit.

The voice of Shinasi had seemed familiar to Ayomide. “Alright, old man, what business does this lightskin, slave-hunting son of a donkey’s prick have with you? And…” She noticed her former colleagues from the maid café “…what’s with the sudden reunion?”

“Ahem! Firstly, those words about a donkey’s you-know-what is not a suitable word to be used by a young lady or any couth man.” Brown cleared his throat. “Secondly, I believe that Shinasi has seen the grace of the Almighty and had his steps directed in a more righteous direction. Lastly, young lady, we have had an unexpected exodus.”

Ayomide didn’t look too nonplussed by the mention of an exodus. “Right, and were there any suspicious hooded figures in this exodus of yours?”

“Indeed, young lady. How would you happen to know? Did- Did you happen to get a vision or revelation or-” Brown was still convinced that Ayomide might be blessed by the Almighty after her ‘miracle’ of healing Brown’s arm.

Ayomide was sure that she wasn’t blessed by anyone though, for her entire life looked far from blessed. “No, no! I had some hooded figure, named Kyauta, come visit me yesterday night. She said that ‘Moses’ was planning an exodus, and I told her that Moses should be at Kanein and not at Casamonu.”

“I’m happy that you are keeping up with your Bible study. ‘Have time for the Lord, and the Lord will have time for you’, young lady. I think the Almighty gave his time for us today.” She wasn’t keeping up with anything, the constant Biblical references made by Brown made it hard to not pick up something or another. “If there is another abolitionist society operating in this area, then I think it is of upmost importance that we meet them.”

While Brown and Ayomide were conversing, the freemen had divided the loot from Jacob’s establishment among themselves. After this dividing was done, seven of the freemen split from the group to continue on their merry way. Two of the freemen had already left the group, taking the hostage gentleman with them, while on the road. By the time Brown ended his conversation, he had only two (plus Shinasi and Ayomide) apostles left.

Brown decided to address the remaining two men. They hadn’t gotten the chance to properly converse to each other on the road. “Gentlemen, I’m happy to see that you have stayed around. My name is John Brown, of Connecticut. I’d be glad to have your names and occupations.”

The first to reply was a man that was equally as tall as Brown (somewhere around 6 feet / 1.82m tall). He still carried the axe he had used to chop off the plank that blocked the gate. “Hakim, sir.” He took of his hat in salute, revealing his hair, or lack thereof. “I used to be cooking in the kitchen, until your folks came around. I know the plants of this area well. Reckon I can give a hand in that.”

“Glad to have you.” Brown then turned around to a young man who was somewhere in his early teens. “And you, young man?”

“I… don’t have a name, but they call me ‘Tater’, ‘cause I carried taters. Guess I could carry anything, if need be.”

“You’re a young man Tater, you’ll learn anything quickly, God willing.” Brown seemed to be satisfied with the potential applicants. “Gentleman, I extend my invitation for you to join me in the fight against slavery. You are now free as the Almighty intended, and there’s nothing nobler to do with your freedom but fight for the freedom of one’s brothers and sisters!”

Hakim and Tater looked at each other, trying to gauge each other’s opinion. They didn’t exactly desire to be stuck in what sounded to be a long war against slavery, but they also didn’t know what else they’d be stuck with. Would it not be better to die fighting than live and then die running?

“I- I’d join, sir.” The first one to make up his mind was Hakim.

“I’m no sir, Mister Hakim. Call me captain, mister, Brown or anything else that is not discourteous, but don’t call me sir. There’s no one above you but the Lord now.” He extended his hand toward Hakim.

“Understood, captain.” Hakim shook hands with Brown, finalizing his membership.

Tater grabbed hold of Brown’s hand as well. “Captain, I’m in too!”

A surprise third hand entered this cluster of hands, this newcomer belonging to Shinasi. “Guess I already made this choice when I ran towards you back there.

Brown smiled at his new recruits. “May our Heavenly Father grant us victory!”

“So… Who’s this heavenly father?”

After having greeted Brown, Hakim and Tater approached their former coworker, Ayomide. She had been standing in the corner, warming herself near a fire that she had started.

Hakim spoke when he was sure that he was in a safe distance from Brown. “Total bonkers, this old man of yours. Holy spirits, fathers, lords… And he referred to all us darkskin as ‘Mister’ and ‘Lady’, never seen any lightskin do that before.”

“When I’d hear you being called ‘young lady’, I thought we were going to be seeing some haughty, lightskinned noble, not the old waitress. You ain’t dead? Seems that you’se enjoying the lady life.”

“Course I am not dead.” Though, I almost was. “How’s the master after I ran? Hope he didn’t treat you too badly.”

“He was fine with yelling a bit, thankfully.” Shinasi did his best to imitate Jacob’s voice. “‘Damned harlot! She owes me two thousand libra for her worthless, dung-filled head!’ and stuff like that.”

“And now he's dead, isn’t he? Wish we all had something to celebrate with…” Ayomide had been drinking water and slime for the last few months. She desperately needed something that tasted different.

“Well, I don't have bad news, ‘young lady’.” Tater had been part of the quartet that raided the kitchen. He had been carrying a pot, opening its lid he revealed the pot to be full of oranges and a filled wineskin. “Take whatever you need.”

“You’re too young to have that wine. Gimme that, boy.” Ayomide took the wineskin, and drank half of it. She handed over the rest to Hakim, and took some oranges with her freed hand.

“Young lady. We need you a new name, for the fancy new title you got.” Tater tried to think of something, and his eyes stumbled upon the oranges currently consumed by Ayomide. “What ‘bout ‘Lady Orange’?”

Hakim burst out with laughter at this ridiculous proposition. “Lady Orange? I think you’ve found the best name for our young lady.”

Ayomide stood up, and did her best to curtsy as if she was the long-lost daughter of the royal family. “Greetings, ye filthy peasantry, My name is Lady Orange, from the illustrious House of Crappingsburg-Scheissenstein. Umm… O-ho-hohoho!” She began playing with her hair, assuming the position that could rival the haughtiest of the haughtiest. “What d’ya’ll think?”

“You’re gonna steal the princess’ jobs if you keep this up.” The trio laughed in thought of princesses being left unemployed by Ayomide.

The conversation went deep into the night like so, Ayomide and her coworkers finally getting to bond with each other.

61^st of Spring, 5859
Mount Curry, Azdavay / Casamonu

Tater groaned as the mountain path winded and winded further. “We there yet, Lady Orange?”

Ayomide sighed. It seemed that this silly nickname was going to stay. “We ain’t far. See, it’s there.”

Brown raised his hand, to signal to the group that they should halt. “Alright, up that cliff and our journey is going to be over for today.” The group followed him up the small cliff leading to the headquarters of the organization yet-to-be-named. “Welcome to our humble home. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay here.”

The group entered the cave, which was mostly empty aside from piles of soap and pottery. “As you can see, there are many things that can be improved, with your and God’s help of course.”

“That’s an understatement if I ever seen one…” Hakim wasn’t exactly sure where they’d even begin with. Nobody was exactly sure. Still, they held on to the vague hope that they things might work out fine.

“Now, if you’d please sit down and listen.” The group sat down on the cave floor, and Brown joined them. “I’d like to begin the First Session of the Provisional Council of… Curry. This cave is equally all our home, so I think of it best to choose our plan of action in a suitably democratic fashion.”

Hakim raised his hand. “Captain! What’s a ‘democratic’?”

“It means that we all get an equal say as to how things are going to be run around here. I am no king or lord, nor shall I aim to be a king or lord, nor shall ye accept any mortal kings or lords.”

Tater was the one who raised his hand this time. “Who decides stuff then?”

“As I said, we all have an equal say. We discuss with each other what we want to do, and then take a vote to decide whose suggestion we go with.”

“Ah! I heard of that. The big folk in the town meet in their town hall to do something like that. Though, of course, we ain’t gotten a chance to see any of that.” Hakim had heard of Jacob complain about meetings in the town hall.

“Yeah, I’ve visited one of those meetings once. Not as a participant, just as security. It seemed a bit boring, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.” replied Shinasi.

Ayomide nodded in agreement. “That seems reasonable to me. Never liked those lords anyways. Let’s not have one, for a change.”

“Alright, then let’s take a vote. Who agrees that we should all convene as a council to make decisions? Raise your hands if you agree, don’t if you don’t.” Everybody in the room raised their hands.

Thus, the Provisional Council of Curry was born. Everybody in the room then fell silent and idle, unsure of what to do. They weren’t exactly ready for this moment.

Shinasi broke the silence. “So, when do we meet again?”

“Uhm… Every day?”

“That too much, clearly. Every… ten days would be better.”

“Let’s go with a month?”

“No, that’s too sparse!”

A different idea sprouted from every head in the room. Thus, democracy was born.

Chapter 16: Chapter XIII – Ye who art bummed.

Chapter Text

So, the John Brown Isekai has got its first piece of fanart and it's a really awesome one of Jacob being Brown'd. Check it out!

This piece was made by u/Leading_Discount_562 (a.k.a. Ewfino) and posted to the John Brown Isekai subreddit. Thank you for reading, and thank you so much for appreciating the John Brown Isekai so much that you'd make artwork inspired by it!

I looked at my hands to see if I was the same person now that I was free. There was such a glory over everything. The sun came up like gold through the trees, and over the fields, and I felt like I was in heaven.

- Harriet Tubman, as quoted in Harriet, The Moses of Her People (1886) by Sarah Hopkins Bradford

70^th of Spring, 5859
Azdavay, County of Casamonu

A group of guards, garbed in most fashionable attire, flanked an equally fashionable carriage. “Make way! Make way for the count!” The crowd moved like a sea being parted in twain, making way for someone who looked way too important to be in Azdavay.

This group of upmost pompousness stopped in front of the Azdavay town hall, and a man came out of the carriage. He was a middle-aged man, bearing a blood red cloak that’d put actual blood to shame. His hoses were made of famous Prusian silk, his hat bore the feather of some exotic bird he couldn’t even pronounce the name of. A servant, dressed sharply but of course not as sharply as his lord, followed the lord out of his carriage.

“This place really is one giant pigsty filled with adventurers.” The lord spat on the ground in contemn. “Let us make haste, lest the mud of these pigs soil us.” They entered the town hall, being met with a bubbling crowd packed tightly into a room that was probably not larger than an actual pigsty.

The crowd calmed down once they noticed who had stepped into the room. The servant following the lord called out to the room to make sure everyone got the memo. “Ladies and gentlemen, His Excellency Leon Satō-Wang, Count of Casamonu.” Everybody in the room got up from their seats to bow down out of courtesy. Who wouldn’t want to be a sycophant when faced with a man who has enough money to buy himself a servant, whose only job is to call out his name?

The mayor of the town quickly ran toward Leon, bowing down again and again as he made his plea. “Your Excellency, you have most likely heard the slave uprising in our town…” Leon had heard all about it since the mayor had specifically mentioned this event multiple times in his letter. “…it’s terrible, Your Excellency! Many fine men were slain.”

Leon slowly walked over to his seat while conversing with the mayor. “How severe is the damage?”

“It has only been a week since the uprising, we haven’t yet had enough time to compile a complete report of all the damages. But, a report by the operator of the slave market reported over thirty items from his stock missing, and the local Adventurer’s Guild has had twenty-one reported cases of missing slaves. And…” The mayor shuddered at the thought he was about to convey “One of the knights in the city was found dead, most likely killed by slaves. An Awmereighkan otherworlder named Sir Jacob Smith of Florida, may his soul rest peacefully in an Otherworld.”

“Are you serious? A dead otherworlder?” Leon sat on the seat, which sat in the center of the room, reserved for him. He heaved a deep sigh of concern. Someone daring to kill an otherworlder? That was quite an upset especially to a man who had otherworlder blood like Leon.

Lightskins ruled over darkskins and the otherworlders ruled the lightskins. That’s how things were ideally supposed to work. Darkskins going against otherworlders constituted a complete toppling of the pyramid that was Gemeinplatzian society.

“Don’t worry sir, we’ve already found the perpetrators of this vicious rebellion. They’ve already been hung, maybe you’ve seen their bodies while passing the gates?” Of course, they couldn’t have found the perpetrator. The mayor had targeted one of his rivals’ beloved slaves and used them as convenient scapegoats.

“You have done a good job, mayor.” Leon could guess that the perpetrators wouldn’t have been found so easily as well; he didn’t care. Hanging a few of those darkskins to calm the populace was a win-win situation for them. Though, it was not like the officials needed to do the hanging, for the populace had already hanged a few of the slaves themselves.

With their lord seated, the crowd had gotten rowdy again.

“Your Excellency, please send some of your men to help us!”

“We need money to stay afloat! My family is in a tight situation since our slave escaped!”

“Yeah! We should even get the Adventurer’s Guild of Casamonu to help us out.”

There wasn’t much that Leon could do. Sending some men after the uprising had already happened wouldn’t help, nor could he command any of the guilds of the city. The town itself was under supervision of the mayor anyways, this wasn’t Leon’s job. He turned to his servant standing beside him. “Just go with Plan B.” The servant took out a piece of paper from his pockets, and unfurled it.

The servant read the paper with the most serious voice he could muster. “Ahem… His Excellency says that his thoughts and prayers are with the people of this town. We send our condolences to the loved ones of the brave knight Sir Jacob who fell during this incident. His Excellency will do all he can do on his end to eradicate any organizations that may be behind this uprising.” The people in the town hall seemed to be pleased with this answer; a few pleased murmurings could be heard in the room.

The mayor clapped his hands to grab the attention of everyone in the room. “We have eternal gratitude for His Excellency, and we ask for forgiveness for having taken him out of his precious duties. Now, as to what Azdavay will do…”

Leon’s thoughts drifted away from the town hall as their mundane discussions began once more.

71^st of Spring, 5859
Aroghlie / Zon’guldac, Union of Dwarves

On the coast of the Dark Sea sat the grand port of Aroghlie, the largest in Northern Gemeinplatz. Sailing merchant ships went to-and-fro, delivering and taking goods as fast as humanly possible. The port and the settlement around it were mostly inhabited by humans, while the heart of Aroghlie lay in the Curry Mountain range.

There, inside the mountains, lay the true Aroghlie of coal, steel, and industry, of dwarven industry with no rival.

The territory of Zon’guldac was abundant with coal, and most of it was extracted here by the dwarves. Dwarven live was dedicated and shaped by coal: They wore simple clothes that were easy to wash coal dust off of, had physiques that made it easy for them to navigate the tight mineshafts that lead to veins of coal, their lungs had evolved to be resistant against the negative effects of inhaling coal dust 24/7.

The dwarves had gathered, like they usually did every season, at the Supreme Council of Dwarves. The council room was shaped like a dome, with a grand round table sitting in the middle of it. Around this table sat the representatives of dwarven industry, who were all elected yearly by the workers of each industry to represent them. Flanking these representatives were the ordinary dwarves who wished to observe the proceedings.

These representatives were mostly discussing ordinary internal issues like steel production, income from trade and mining accidents. Except for their elven neighbors that lived alongside them in Zon’guldac, the outside world rarely bothered the dwarves and the dwarves didn’t bother the outside world. Dwarven trade with the outside world was mostly based on getting resources that couldn’t be easily gathered in the their part of the Curry Mountain, such as wood, iron and crops.

Tangible goods weren’t the only import however, for the port also imported rumors from the rest of Gemeinplatz. Today, something that seemed relatively minor to the dwarves had been imported from Casamonu. The one tasked with delivering this news was the Lord of Trade incumbent Whitebeard Er’temirr.

In front of every seat in the council lay a small hammer used to call attention. After waiting for an opportune time when discussion slowed down, Whitebeard hit the stone table with the hammer to calling the attention of every dwarf in the room. “Everyone, I have interesting news to share from the east.”

The dwarves quieted down and began listening intently, as changes in the outside usually meant that changes were needed in all branches of industry. “Today I had a meeting with newly arrived refugees: two humans who had newly escaped from slavery.”

One of the representatives replied. “So? Refugees come here to escape something pretty often. It’s not an unusual thing, I think.” Aroghlie wasn’t a part of the Gemeinplatz Empire, nor did the dwarves practice slavery, meaning that it was a safe harbor for those needing to escape.

“The unusual thing was that these refugees hadn’t escaped alone. They claimed, and I have verified claim with other merchants coming from Casamonu, that an uprising of slaves had broken out in the town of Azdavay.” She searched her great white beard, finding nestled within it the notes she had taken for the council. “Apparently the leaders in this uprising were two humans, one whose name I do not yet know and the other named… ‘Isaac Smith’. They’re either part of one organization or are two organizations that worked together, I have been unable to get clarification on that part. That is all the information I have as of now, the events have only developed last week.”

Another one of the representatives tapped the hammer on the table. “Since you’ve brought this up, am I right to assume you have a plan for action?”

“Right.” Whitebeard nodded her head. “I believe that this event might be the harbinger of a shift in the political situation of Northern Gemeinplatz, or Gemeinplatz as a whole if it comes to that. This is one uprising, a successful one at that, that might inspire others to commit similar acts once the news spreads out of Casamonu.”

She hammered the table again, to draw the attention of some of the representatives who had drifted away in boredom. “Thus, I think that this esteemed council will agree that it is of upmost import that we keep close watch and prepare to realign our policy. I’d like to request permission to send humans from the port to actively relay the events happening in Casamonu, and make contact with the organizers of the uprising if possible.”

7 May 2023 / 72^nd of Spring, 5859
Seoul, Republic of Korea

Far, far away from the dwarven city of Aroghlie, or any city in Gemeinplatz for that matter, stood the capital and soul of (South) Korea: Seoul.

Under the scraping skyscrapers and enlightening lights of the city sat a young man, one certain Kim Seong-Min. Of course, he was no usual young man, or else he’d not be mentioned in this story at all. This young man was a millionaire (in terms of US dollars) and CEO of the Isegye Company, dealing in business of the otherworldly kind.

His story was one of tragedy followed by great success. He had begun his life as the son of an office worker, a nobody. Unlike other rich people, who made their money thanks to their family already having money, Kim had to crawl his way to success with the hardest of work. Hard work, of course meaning ‘stumbling upon a portal that leads to another world’.

There, in that new world, Kim had worked hard slaying mobs (with an overpowered magician girl he had found, she did most of the work), opening a business in another world (a dark elf he hired did most of the work on the business front), and generally enjoying life (by spending money to flex on his acquaintances in Korea).

Of course, he also had a sick sister with a vague disease, who he had paid for the treatment of, along with a large debt of a couple hundred thousand won that he had also paid off. What kind of Korean main character would he be if he didn’t have those?

Interrupting today’s important work in his office, important work being an online MOBA game that Kim was obsessed with, was his secretary entering the room. “Mister Kim, there is an urgent report from Gemeinplatz.” The secretary was a dark elf, standing six and a half feet (2 meters) tall. His skin was dark, not the type of natural black color that was formed with melanin, but a deep black that resembled burnt ash. Along with his crimson eyes, Nirmal looked to be a very intimidating figure.

Kim groaned in annoyance as he had to disconnect from his match. “What is it, Nirmal? This better be something really important.”

“There has been an incident in Casamonu, where an uprising happened in the town of Azdavay. I do not have any details on the nature or numbers of this slave uprising, but I do know that the flow of goods has been directly impacted.” He placed a sheet filled with dull financial figures on the table. “Merchants and porters have been staying inside towns and cities, along with charging higher fees, due to fearing an ambush by the fugitives. We estimate that we won’t be able to complete our deliveries in time and in the right price this season, on this sheet are a summary of the estimated effects that this’ll have on us.”

Kim was bummed at the prospect of losing profit. “So, cut to the chase. How much money are we talking about?”

Nirmal reluctantly gave the figure he had been trying to avoid giving. “A loss that sits somewhere between a hundred million to eighty million won. We’ll be losing a lot of perishable stock, not to mention having to call of deals we’ve already agreed to.”

Kim was even more bummed now. “Pay some adventurers to escort the ones complaining. If there are any more rumors of any more uprisings, then I authorize my company’s intervention.” He turned back to his computer. “Now, if you’re done, I’ll be back to pwning noobs.”

“U-Understood, sir…” Nirmal bowed down and left the room. He’d be busy tonight.

Chapter 17: Chapter XIV – Ye who art freed.

Chapter Text

73^rd of Spring, 5859
Mount Curry, Azdavay / Casamonu

As summer slowly came to Casamonu, so did even more rain. The elevated position of the freemen still kept cool however, and the rain was less of a bother now that there were more hands to do work that could help mitigate the effects of rain.

Hakim and Brown were laboring in the cave during noontime. “Captain, just… yes, right yonder.” It felt surreal, to Hakim and the other observers in the cave, to see a former slave give commands to an otherworlder. The newcomers had been cautious and timid around Brown the first few days, but they had quickly grown relaxed in their interactions with the old man.

Brown had been dragging a freshly cut log that was around his height. He put the log down, and called over Ayomide who was waiting to help them. “Young lady, do your thing.”

Ayomide crouched next to the log, and put her hand over its surface. “[Wind], [Wind], [Wind]…” She scanned over the surface with her hands, drying the log that had been subject to the rain. Thankfully, casting [Wind] was much cheaper compared to disinfecting an old man’s arm, otherwise Ayomide would have ceased living by now.

After the log was dried, it was Hakim’s turn. He was physically the strongest in the group, meaning that it was up to him to cut the logs. He had only been tasked with making the firewood up until now, but Hakim and the others wanted to try something special today. “Now, Tater come help us out if you could. My back isn’t suitable for this job. Just keep this log as straight as possible while Hakim cuts it.”

Tater stood up to hold the log as requested, and Hakim slowly began cutting it into a long plank with his axe. It was a long process that took about half an hour, and the end result was a highly uneven plank that’d cause all other planks to feel shame due to being associated with it.

“This is the best we can do with what we currently have.” Brown seemed content. “A couple more of those, and we can all stop sleeping on the floor.” Sleeping on wood would probably feel much better than sleeping on stone.

Ayomide had another idea. “You know, while we were travelling to Azdavay, there were plenty of bales of straw that were left unattended. I don’t think anyone is going to notice if some straw went missing.”

“Do reckon we can get some of that straw.” Hakim seemed pleased with this idea too. “Could get even more, stuff other than straw.”

Brown didn’t seem all to pleased with the idea of stealing anything from the peasants. Still, the idea of raiding places wasn’t all to displeasing. “I think it’d be better if we didn’t anger the common people of this realm. But your suggestion did give me an idea that I think would be a more reasonable course of action.”

The people in the cave seemed intrigued. “What’d that be, captain?”

“You are all long-time inhabitants of this land, so probably know this better than I do. Are there any farms or plantations, where only slaves are made to work?” The only farming that Brown observed in Gemeinplatz were the peasants and the occasional slave that he saw in the roadside.

Tater raised his hand. “Yes, I been there, in a sugar beet plantation. Made me work as a farmhand, when I was a lil’ kid. Kept me in the shed along with the others. The master then sold me to Jacob.”

“Then instead I think it’s better if we target those sorts of plantations instead of the peasantry. Making an enemy of the people would only make our lives harder, don’t you think?”

Shinasi, who had been tasked with keeping watch from the mouth of the cave, replied. “Eh, we’re going to be looting someone either way, captain. Better to target the peasants who are closer to us. It’s just a bit of straw.”

Brown seemed a bit distraught at Shinasi’s suggestion. “But think of stuff beyond straw, young man. Think of the future, we’ll need the populace to support us if we intend to enact any sort of liberation. ‘Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth’, it is better if we are kind to the meek.”

For everyone in the room except Brown, the prospect of a full-on rebellion or revolution seemed as distant to them as Earth. Ayomide also raised a point that the former slaves had been considering themselves. “Ain’t those peasants lightskins? They’d enslave us like any other if they had the money to, they don’t seem ‘meek’ to me. I think it is more than fair if we take a bit of straw from them.”

Brown seemed offended at Ayomide’s remarks. “Yet, aren’t those peasants meek and oppressed under their lords? Am I not an otherworlder and a ‘lightskin’, am I to enslave you like you say so? Directing your anger and desire for revenge against the peasants, and not those who lead them and crush you and them under their boot, is a grave mistake, young lady. We’re making war on slavery, a system, and not on any men.”

He ended his short yet fervent speech not with Bible quote but a quote from Philip Doddridge’s The Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul. “He is a barbarian, and deserves not to be called a man, who can look upon the sorrows of his fellow-creatures without drawing out his soul unto them, and wishing, at least, that it were in the power of his hand to help them.”

“I…” Ayomide and the others, while being touched by Brown’s heartfelt speech, weren’t exactly convinced. “I thought we were going to fight the slavers? What’s this about the peasants?”

“Yes, and the peasants live another kind of slavery under their lords. One who lives under a lord, other than the Lord, also lives under a form of slavery in material and in mind. I know not and cannot know what you, or ye, truly fight for, but I myself fight for all of God’s Creation and that Creation includes all of humanity.”

Hakim also intervened in this discussion. “’side from that, we escaped from Azdavay recently. I think they’d be on high alert.” This point seems to have convinced the others more than Brown’s words that no one really got. “It’d be better to attack the plantations. Raise your hands if you wanna go with that.”

Everyone in the room raised their hands, showing that they had come to a consensus after arguing.

“Well then, we’d better get ready gentlemen… and young lady.” Brown was ready to go back to doing his thing (of fighting slavers). “Then I think we better get ourselves armed and ready.” They had been too busy with settling down to the cave and gathering supplies for the newcomers. “We also need to scout out these plantations, and find out where they are.”

“I can help with that.” said Shinasi. “There have been a couple of times where I had to deal with monsters threatening these places. Most of them are somewhere up the Tilia Stream, I vaguely remember where they’re located. Shouldn’t be too hard to spot these plantations.” He raised his spear. “I don’t need to be training much for combat, anyways.”

“I’d like to join you.” Tater stood up and pointed to himself. “Those siddity folk ain’t gonna suspect an adventurer and a darkskin. I can pretend to be your hand.”

“Alright, then Shinasi and Tater shall be on their way to find us a good plantation or two. The rest of us, me, Hakim and Ayomide, should be busy preparing weapons for ourselves and any slaves that we rescue.” Brown was pleased of this arrangement and his team’s initiative. He smiled as he clapped his hands together to signal that they should be getting into action. “Now, let us get ready to fight the Devil with fire!”

It was night, after their big decision. Ayomide was a equally worried and excited, making for a hellish mix that prevented her from catching one wink of sleep. She had decided to get a whiff of fresh air, hoping to calm her nerves.

Ayomide sat on the clifftop, watching the stars. She knew not that they were just giant balls of hydrogen, functioning as giant fusion reactors floating in space. To someone like her, from a pre-industrial society of generic fantasy magnitudes, these bright dots in the sky were a whole lot more mysterious to something mundane like magic or dragons.

She hadn’t had much of a chance to stare at them back when she was stuffed in a shed. Ayomide wanted to stare at the stars as much as she demi-humanly could for the rest of her free life. Perhaps this ‘holy spirit’ of Brown lay on these stars, watching over the old man. That’s the most likely place such a holy spirit would rest, or so thought Ayomide.

“Oh, you’re awake too?” Ayomide turned around to find Shinasi greeting him. She wasn’t too pleased.

“Right…” The old man would probably get mad if she beat up Shinasi like she wanted to. Ayomide calculated that it wasn’t worth it. “What are you doing here, looking for fugitives?”

“That was just a one-time job that the old man, another one who’s not the captain, coerced me into doing. I haven’t actually caught any slaves in my life.”

“You were pretty close to catching one. I was under the bear pelt when you first visited Brown.” added Ayomide sarcastically. “I’d be dead, and you probably wouldn’t care.”

“That’s all a ‘probably’. I didn’t catch anyone and I’m grateful for that.” Shinasi sat down next to Ayomide. “‘Blessed the merciful are, they will obtain mercy too.’, or something like that. That’s something the old man said, anyways. We’re on the same boat now anyways, I don’t think I can ever safely return to Azdavay.” He extended his hand toward Ayomide. “So, truce?”

“Fine… For the sake of the old man.” Ayomide reluctantly shook hands with Shinasi, Awmereighkan style. “There’s something I’ve always been wondering, what got you to help Brown during the uprising?” She had heard all about the uprising in Azdavay already.

Shinasi looked far away as he reminisced. “Well, you see, my mom and dad worked as porters in the Casamonu. We never had anything more than a few libra in my life while all those nobles and merchants they worked for lived in their mansions without breaking any of their backs. I was very young when I kind of realized…” he made a stomping motion to emphasize his point “…that slaves, darkskins and lightskins are all equal under the boots of those higher up than us. My parents weren’t much different than the slaves; they either worked or died, and die they eventually did.”

Ayomide scoffed. “At least you had parents and a few libra to your name.” She did have something serious to add after a moment of deliberation. “Though, I guess we do have common enemies to fight.”

“Well, I didn’t say my situation was exactly the same as yours.” Shinasi paused for a moment, as if gathering courage to speak further. “Oh, and there was something else that inspired me.” Shinasi was playing around with something in his pocket while talking. “While we were walking to Azdavay with Brown, a fugitive came and saved our life when we were ambushed by a weaponnapper. A- And I though she looked pretty beautiful and cool while doing it…” Shinasi took out the object he had been playing with in his pocket: a red ribbon. He looked pretty nervous while he continued to speak. “I- And… I thought that it’d- I’d give her this if I ever saw her again.”

Ayomide tilted her head in confusion. Does he not know that it was me? Why does he look so nervous? She decided to clear up this misunderstanding. “You know, the one-”

“Yeah, yeah… I- What a coincidence it’d be if I ever got to m-meet her again, right?” He laughed in a manner that was obviously fake. Ayomide could easily see the man’s face lose any semblance of composure. “A- Anyways, I- I’ll go to sleep now, goodnight!” Shinasi had lost his cool, Ayomide could easily see the young man’s flushed face in the dark. He finished the sentences with lightning speed and got up to go God-knows-where.

“Wait, you forgot this!” Ayomide now held the ribbon, which Shinasi had dropped in flight. He had already disappeared far away.

…was this an attempt at courtship?

Ayomide had no romantic experience whatsoever, but one didn’t need keen eyes to see the obvious.

Chapter 18: Chapter XV – Ye who art armed.

Chapter Text

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Brown, Ayomide and Hakim were currently busy in the forest outside of Azdavay, looking for wood that could be converted into weaponry.

“Captain! I have great news!” The one shouting with great excitement was Hakim, who was holding a bundle of plants which looked very similar to the cattails that Brown had seen back in the wetlands of America. He also carried a couple of chestnuts in his pockets.

A chef like Hakim could separate the rest of the forest from the trees. He had just stumbled upon a small lake formed from the constant rain, where these cattail-like plants had grown.

“Is that food that’s not slime?” Ayomide was the one who was intrigued the greatest by the introduction of these new plants.

“Yes, it is. These are ‘shepherd reeds’, that’s what they were called in my hometown.” Hakim peeled the rind off of two of the plants and handed them over to Brown and Ayomide. “Try them out, you can eat them raw.” He then peeled himself a shepherd reed to eat with the others. The white core of the plant tasted similar to asparagus. Eating it raw definitely wasn’t the tastiest thing, but it tasted like the clouds of Heaven to Ayomide who had only consumed slime for almost an entire season.

“And we can… Actually, I’ll leave what I can do with the rest as a surprise for later.” Hakim looked full of excitement as he examined the reeds he had harvested. “These the best during late spring, we arrived at the perfect time.” He’d definitely be back in the forest for another harvest.

“Actually, couldn’t we just use these plants as straw?” said Ayomide upon examining the reeds. "Get rid of the heads, and we can easily lie on them I’d think."

“I reckon. The straw from these plants were also made into hats and other stuff back in my hometown. I don’t know how they did it, I was young when I got separated.” Hakim secured his bundle of shepherd reeds with his hands, and looked at Brown and Ayomide. “So, you found good sticks?”

Brown nodded. “I think these should be enough. Let’s go back then.” He and Ayomide were carrying a bundle of wood in their hands. Brown was also carrying, in his pockets and a knapsack that had been taken from Jacob, small stones he had found along the road. “Ayomide?”

“R-Right. Let’s go.” Ayomide turned back to face the path to the cave, and the others followed.

While Brown and co were busy with reeds and wood, Shinasi and Tater were exploring the mountain path.

Captain Brown and Shinasi had only headed the path between Curry toward Azdavay, he hadn’t had the chance to go up the Curry path it to see what lay there. So, they had decided that they’d first survey their immediate area first, before beginning their journey to survey the faraway plantations.

The mountains were largely peaceful, like any area near human habitation. The residents of Azdavay had long cleared anything scary like dragons or wyverns. All that was left were man-bears, man-wolves (not to be confused with werewolves) and generic slimes, who Shinasi could take on his own with his spear and pavise. Young Tater only had a combat knife to his name, he hoped that he would soon get a new weapon for himself when the team back at the cave got to crafting them.

“’Tis cold, isn’t it, mister?” Tater, and the rest of the former slaves, only had rags to their name. Thankfully, Brown had let Tater borrow his coat for this expedition.

“Mm. Totally… Yeah.” Shinasi seemed to be more focused on staring at the sky and contemplating idly, which was unusual for a former adventurer like him.

Thinking was not for adventurers, or so thought Tater who had only heard of adventurers through random tidbits. “What got you think so hard?”

“It’s adult business, my boy.”

“Adult business?” Tater quickly went through his mental list of what constituted as ‘adult business’. “Booze?”

“No- I mean, yeah… lack of drink is a problem. Right now, it’s not that.” Shinasi hadn’t had anything to drink since he had escaped Azdavay.

“Uhm… crippling debt?”

“That was a problem. However, I have the slightest hunch that the debt collectors might not want to visit a cave full of fugitive slaves.”

“Then… love?” This was his last. Tater had exhausted his list of ‘adult business’ that didn’t involve his juvenile ideas about acts of interhuman copulation.

Shinasi instinctively turned his head away from Tater to avoid his gaze. “Y-yeah, it’s totally not that either. Nuh-uh.”

Shinasi’s love life had caught the interest of Tater. Such topics seemed like they were of utmost importance for a young boy like him. “Mister, who’s the special one?” He poked Shinasi mischievously, hoping to drag out an answer.

“Oh, shut up.” Shinasi continued avoiding the relentless psychological attacks from Tater as the duo marched on the road. They hadn’t seen anything interesting, until they came upon a small village, actually a large estate housing an open mining field, in the mountains.

“I think this is one of the copper mining villages.” commented Shinasi. “Plenty of copper up in these mountains.” The Curry Mountain was famous in Gemeinplatz for its bountiful veins of copper, and the towns in Casamonu were famous for manufacturing goods from this copper.

“So, this where they got the stuff they make our pots out of.” Tater’s eyes were fixed on a line of slaves carrying pickaxes who were coming out of a wooden shack next to the mine. They were flanked by two overseers holding whips and carrying swords.

It wasn’t a plantation, but these mines did fill the critical criteria of ‘having lots of slaves’ “We found the kind of thing the old man’s looking for.”

“Think we did. Let’s give them a greeting, shall we?”

“Right.” Shinasi and Tater kept marching on, until they were in range to speak with the overseers. “Top of the morning to you, gentlemen.”

The trio of Brown, Ayomide and Hakim had returned back to the cave. They quickly got to work, each of them holding a kitchen knife (courtesy of the late Jacob) and the items that they had foraged.

Brown and Ayomide were doing their best to carve shafts out of the sticks, which was a painful process as they both weren’t experienced with carving of any kind. Meanwhile, Hakim was preparing the shepherd reeds for culinary use by peeling the rinds and cutting them off from the strawy bits. He wasn’t doing this just to make food; the straw would be useful as rope for the makeshift weaponry.

After an hour or two, Brown and Ayomide had constructed shafts of acceptable quality. Now came the experimental part. Brown had been carrying large stones he had foraged during their travels. Both of them also had cut small pieces of wood, around ten inches (30 cm) long, to use as a hammer for shaping the stones.

This wasn’t an exact science; this was just what the people in the cave had come up with after a long brainstorming session.

They spent some time, knapping the stones, trying to find out which were hard and which were soft. Eventually, after another ten minutes of experimentation, Brown and Ayomide had a good idea as to the characteristics of the stones they had. Then they began knapping the stones, slowly carving a vaguely spear-like shape. After enough knapping, they used the small wood hammers to carve smaller, more intricate chips off the stone. To finish it all off, they scraped these spearheads to the floors of the cave to polish them the best as they could.

Now the only thing left was to put up the finishing touches. They took the straw that Hakim had prepared in the meanwhile, and they attempted to use the straw to bind the spearheads with the wooden shaft. The first one to do this successfully was Ayomide, who now had a complete spear. Then followed Brown in success, who happily looked upon the fruits of their labor.

Today, on the 74^th of Spring 5859, John Brown and Ayomide had entered the Stone Age.

“You know, I bet I can make an axe or something with this.” Ayomide seemed to be enjoying knapping. She put her newly spear aside to tinker with stone.

Brown, who was now a couple days off of being exactly sixty years old at this point, couldn’t stand long sessions of sitting down and working. He stood up, to take a break, and to observe what Hakim was up to.

Hakim had been occupied with further processing the shepherd reeds. His job hadn’t been done when he had peeled the rinds off the cores, he intended to use every part of the plant. He was grinding the starchy roots of the plant with a large rock, which produced flour. This grinding process was largely done by the time Brown had come to the scene.

“Ah, captain. Could you hand me one of your spears?”

Brown didn’t know why Hakim needed a spear for cooking, but he obliged and handed the man one of the newly crafted spears. Hakim proceeded to dump the flour he had made into a pot filled with a thin layer of slime and plants unknown to Brown. To Brown’s surprise, Hakim began violently beating the mixture in the pot with the shaft of the spear. The mixture eventually coalesced into a solid lump with a consistency similar to soft rice cake.

“Sorry for dirtying your shaft, captain.” Hakim gave back the slime-stained shaft to Brown. “These ‘spear cakes’ could be useful as provisions. They won’t rot easily, and their taste is better than pure slime slop.” He picked a lump for himself, and handed Brown another.

“Thank our Heavenly Father for providing us with this meal.” Brown obliged by biting a lump out of this strange spear cake. “Mmm… They have quite the minty taste.”

“It’s just a bit of this-and-that from the forest to get that mint taste. Even troops on the march could cook this without extra effort, I reckon. Living off the land, and all that.”

Ayomide was about to request some of the spear cake, before she was rudely interrupted by Shinasi and Tater entering the cave. “Captain, we have some good news.”

“Welcome back, young men. What’d your good news be?” Brown was ready for some good news, being stuck on a mountain did that to a man.

“You see, Tater and I found a copper mining village up on the road. It’s pretty close to where we are.” He pointed to the vague direction of the village. “Just up there. It’s lightly guarded, just some overseers for the slaves and nothing much more.”

Ayomide raised her brow. “Wait, weren’t we going for plantations?”

“It don’t matter, do it?” The one to reply was Tater. “There’re plenty of slaves, and plenty of loot up in copper land.”

“As the boy says. I of course don’t have a full account of what they have, but one’s gotta assume that they’d not have nothing. Not to mention, they hired me as a temporary guard after I told them that I was an adventurer. Apparently, they’re scared by the uprising in Azdavay.”

“Good thing we started on the spears then.” Brown looked at Ayomide. “We’ll have to work extra, young lady, to get arms for us and the slaves as soon as possible.”

Hakim interjected “And food as well, we need to have food for when they’re at our cave.”

“Then it seems we’re at a consensus.” Brown was excited to get back to doing what he did best. “Our first target for liberation shall be the copper mine!”

Chapter 19: Chapter XVI – Ye who art employed.

Chapter Text

“Ahh… That feels good… Right there, right there… Ooh… Thank the Lord…”

“Old man, could you be a bit quieter while I’m doing it?”

It was right after bath time, and Ayomide was busy with drying everybody’s hair as usual. “[Wind], [Wind], [Wind]…” A lack of towels and hairdryers made her magic essential in making sure nobody got a cold. The wind also doubled as a sort of massage, which was why old man Brown was making those odd noises of pleasure as written above.

Tater, who had been the first one to get his hair dried, was watching the two while he himself was trying to light a fire for the night. It wasn’t an easy process, he had to strike a steel kitchen knife to a piece of flint in hopes that the kindling would catch fire, which it sometimes refused to do. “Lady Orange, can’t you cast some fire for poor old me?”

Ayomide answered without thinking. “No, I cannot.”

“Why not? Ain’t you a magician? I thought you could do all kinds of stuff.” Tater had heard tales of magicians comitting many wondrous acts, yet Ayomide’s job of being a glorified drying machine seemed too ordinary.

Tater’s question had ignited Brown’s curiosity as well. “I’ve been wondering the same thing, young lady.”

The old man’s encounter and reckoning with ‘magic’ had not been easy, ‘thou shalt not suffer a witch to live’ made it pretty clear what the Lord thought about magicians. However, the ‘magic’ of Gemeinplatz didn’t have much to do with acts of magic mentioned in the Bible. Brown had concluded that this ‘magic’ was most likely a highly malleable, misnamed natural force of some sort (which could be used benevolently or malevolently like any other force) that hadn’t been present back on Earth. Thus, he himself avoided using the word ‘magic’, though he hadn’t yet found any other word to replace it.

“Right… I got taught this stuff by an old lady around ten years ago, so take this with a grain of salt.” She wasn’t exactly the best authority to give the obligatory exposition on magic, but Ayomide would have to give it a shot. “So, the world is apparently made of seven elements. Earth, water, air, fire, aether, light and dark.”

“I know earth, water, air, fire and aether to be elements, young lady, as devised by Aristotle. What might be the other two?” Brown had died around the time when the atomic theory was slowly gaining mainstream acceptance. The four (plus one, aether) elements were the best that Brown, an avid reader of the classics, had in terms of knowledge in physics.

“Right. The names of the other elements explain themselves. Light is, well, light. You know, the stuff that gives life to plants and animals, hence healing stuff is in the domain of light. Like what I did with the old man’s arm. And dark is, dark. The opposite of light. Disease, death, mind control, all that stuff.” Ayomide scratched her head, trying to think of more couth ways to elaborate on the elements. “Well, as I said, I heard about it all when I was a kid. So that’s all I’ve got on the elements.”

Tater seemed unsatisfied. “So, what’s that got to do with you being unable to light a fire?”

“I was getting to that point, kid. So, with this magic stuff, everybody’s attuned to different elements at different levels. That’s why you see different folks casting different things. Far as I’ve seen, I’m attuned to wind and light.”

“Interesting…” Brown’s mind was more at ease. It seemed that this ‘magic’ didn’t have any relation anything ungodly like the Devil himself or any other demons. A question popped up in his relaxed mind. “And why do you have to shout ‘wind’ every time you need to blow wind?”

“You don’t actually have to shout anything. Watch.” Ayomide paused, thinking really hard. Wind, wind, uhh… Let there be wind. Wind, wind, wind… [Wind]! A sudden breeze blew towards Brown’s face. “You need to envision what you want to bring forth. Shouting what you want to do just makes it easier.”

“We have to be careful around people then. Just gagging them might not do the job.” Brown seemed satisfied as he got up. “It’s getting late. You know what they say…”

Tater finished Brown’s sentence. “…early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise. We don’t need to hear it for the umpteenth time, captain.”

76^th of Spring, 5859
A copper mine atop Mount Curry, Azdavay / Casamonu

Shinasi hadn’t expected to get himself employed again this suddenly and so soon. Of course, he wasn’t going to the copper mine just to get employed, he was under Brown’s orders to scout out the facility and formulate a plan to help the slaves escape with minimal casualties.

He had gotten on the road as soon as he had bid his farewells to the people of the cave. The road from the cave to the copper mine wasn’t too long; it was only around an hour’s walk. Shinasi found himself at the mine before the sun had properly risen.

One of the overseers tipped his hat in greeting. “Good morning, Shinasi was it?”

Shinasi tipped his helmet in return. “Morning. Yes, that’d be me.”

“The boss wants to see you, before you begin working.” The overseer pointed to the biggest building in the area. “He should be in the mansion.”

Shinasi parted ways with this overseer, making his way to the door of the ‘mansion’. It was a pretty small building for a mansion, with only two floors. Guess this is the best you can get in the mountains. The noble who lived here probably wasn’t the richest. Shinasi proceeded to knock on the front door. He was greeted by a maid opening the door.

“I’m the new guard that Sir Algernon’s looking for.” All this formality had already made Shinasi begin to feel sick.

The maid took a disinterested look at Shinasi. “Leave your weapons at the door please.” Shinasi obliged and parted ways with his beloved spear and shield. “Come in.”

Shinasi was greeted by an indoors that, while definitely affluent, wasn’t too rich in decoration. Most of the items were made or decorated with copper, probably with the copper that had been gathered in the mine. There was even a bust of what Shinasi assumed to be the owner, he couldn’t read the inscription below it, of the mansion. The maid opened a door, wherein lay a thirtysomething in a sharp one-piece suit and bearing an even sharper mustache. Shinasi removed his helmet and held it over his chest, which was the standard way to greet a superior in Gemeinplatz. “Greetings, sir.” He even bowed down a bit to add a extra bit of sycophancy.

Sir Algernon looked pleased with the actions of Shinasi. “Welcome, I see that you are a well-bred man Shinasi. It’s rare to find such adventurers.” He gestured towards a seat that sat in front of him. “Here, you may sit down. I am Sir Algernon Satō-Wang of Curry, and this is my wife, Leila. We have two children as well, though they’re currently a bit busy being tutored upstairs.” Shinasi had missed the woman sitting on the other side of the room, he bowed down to her as well.

Leila was fanning her face with a paper fan as she spoke. “I’m happy that he seems to be different compared to the other adventurer we called up, dear.” Shinasi noticed that her abdomen was greatly swollen, signaling that she was pregnant. Her outfit was equally as sharp as Algernon’s.

Algernon nodded his head in agreement. “Indeed, I have high hopes for him.”

That’s a bit too much for a temporary worker, isn’t it… “Sir, please, you do not need to spend so many words of praise someone coming here temporarily.” Showing humility was a great way to warm up with the nobles, or that was what Shinasi had learned anyways.

“Temporary? Right, that’s what was told to you. After seeing you however, I believe you could have permanent employment. It’s hard to get good retainers up in these mountains.” Algernon switched to business mode, extending his hand toward Shinasi for a handshake. “Two libra a day, with accommodation and food taken care of and one day break every decameron?” He was a master at blitzkrieg, his krieg being flattery and business.

Two libra wasn’t bad, it amounted to somewhere around four loaves of bread. Shinasi didn’t think too hard about it while shaking hands with Algernon however, for he wasn’t here for a job. “Thank you so, so much sir.”

“Well, let’s celebrate with something to drink, shall we?” Algernon clapped his hands as loudly as he could muster. “Ekene! Ejike!”

The young maid that had greeted Shinasi at the door returned with a tray with teacups, along with a butler that looked to be her brother who carried a pot of tilia tea. Ekene, the sister, set the teacups while Ejike, the brother, began pouring tea into them without saying a word. While pouring Ejike’s hand slipped and the tea from the pot flew onto Algernon’s oh-so precious suit.

“What the- Damn you, dog!” The calm, businesslike demeanor of Algernon suddenly shifted to that of a savage. He was about to stand up to enact physical punishment, before Leila tugged on his suit. “Dear, be calm.”

Ekene and Ejike were watching their master in fear as he went back to business mode. “Right, I probably shouldn’t damage the slaves too much. But this is the kind of actions these uppity darkskins pull off when you don’t let me tutor them properly, woman. He paused to think of a punishment that wouldn’t make his wife too mad. “No food for you today. Now git!”

The siblings obliged and left the room posthaste. Algernon turned toward Shinasi to address his new employee. “You see, these darkskins are like dogs. You need to use brute force to get them to understand anything, or else they get uppity like they did just now. Don’t hesitate to get physical, as long as you don’t kill or permanently damage them. Got that?”

Shinasi tried his best to keep a poker face. “Yes sir.” He had never seen how masters treated their slaves. Algernon’s behavior seemed no different to how Shinasi had seen lords treat their underlings, to how they had treated his parents. “I’ll be sure to give them a good whack if they step out of line.”

“Good, good. I think we’ll get along well.” Algernon smiled toward Shinasi, with genuine warmth that seemed out of place after what he had just done and ordered to be done to his slaves. He seemed to genuinely value his retainers. “You should report to the head overseer, he’s the one responsible for you.”

“Understood sir. I’ll be taking my leave, then.” Shinasi added a few more words of gratitude and flattery as he got up and left the room. His heart was weighed down by heavy emotions as he did so. He had initially joined Brown mostly on a whim, intending to escape from Azdavay. The words he spent at the night encounter with Ayomide, they were mostly points he had copied over from the captain’s speech without much personal elaboration.

Now, however, Shinasi was slowly beginning to understand why he must do what he’d do. He made his way to the head overseer, with newfound determination slowly budding in his heart.

Chapter 20: Chapter XVII – Ye who art determined.

Chapter Text

Shinasi entered a room in the basem*nt of Algernon’s mansion, in which lay a musty dungeon (not the fun RPG kind of dungeon). There were instruments meant for unsavory business, the whip and a cane, hung up on the wall. Two cells lay in this dungeon, he walked over to the one he was assigned to ‘attend’ to.

In this cell were the two siblings, Ekene and Ejike. Their eyes followed Shinasi with fear. Not a word, other than a few whimpers from the siblings, were exchanged between the two sides.

Shinasi spoke slowly. “The boss says that I’ll have to punish you for your impudence.” He snickered. “He says that I should get to do it so that… so that you learn to fear me. For f*ck’s sake!” Shinasi leaned one the dungeon wall as if he was sick. He couldn’t really stand straight. “What type of person would actually go lock people up in a dungeon and beat them up?!” And I had accepted to help that kind of person search for their slave!

The siblings weren’t sure what Shinasi was up to. They watched, waiting for this odd, angry man to calm down. “You’re not going to-”

“Of course, I’m not about to do anything!” He straightened himself back again. “I’m just- You know, you don’t need to listen to me yapping. You probably need something to eat instead.” He took out, from his pockets, two small loaves of bread he had stolen during meal time. “Here you go.”

“Won’t the master get angry?” Ejike accepted the bread anyways, followed by his sister. They hadn’t eaten today, as per Algernon’s orders, so they weren’t in a position to reject food.

“Well, I’m not going to be staying here for long.” Shinasi sat on the floor, to come eye-to-eye with the siblings. “You won’t be staying here for long, if we’re successful. Have you heard of the Azdavay Uprising?”

“Yes, the big man was shouting about it.” replied Ekene. “He personally pledged one of his men to help the count with searching for the fugitives.”

There’s a search for the fugitives headed by the count? That’s good to know… “I’m with the people who organized the uprising.” Or a few of them, anyhow. “My comrades back at the cave will be arriving here by the early summer, and they need all the help that they can get.”

The siblings seemed rightfully hesitant. They weren’t sure if Shinasi was just toying with them by giving them false hope. There wasn’t much hope for anything left in their hearts.

“I don’t really need an answer. If you want to help, then you can do so by supporting them when the time comes.” He got up from the dungeon floor. “Just pretend that I beat you really badly, okay?” He promptly left the dungeon, having fulfilled his mission for the day.

80^th of Spring, 5859
Estate of Sir Algernon, Azdavay / Casamonu

Shinasi woke up, as usual for the last four days, with the ringing of the bell at his barracks. This barracks, unlike that of the slaves, was quite spacious with enough breathing room to feel comfortable. Shinasi wasn’t the only newcomer here, ten or so more people had been employed by Algernon since he had signed up.

Sir Algernon was, most correctly, worried about his slaves emulating their brethren in Azdavay. In total Shinasi counted fifteen overseers for around fifty slaves, which was a ratio that was unusually skewed to the overseer side. Thankfully Algernon seemed to be satisfied with this amount, he hadn’t hired anyone for the rest of the week.

The head overseer, a fearsome man of equally fearsome physique, personally entered the barracks as he continued ringing the bell. “It’s payday, line up. Line up at the yard! Quickly!”

The men didn’t need much encouragement to wake up to get paid. All of them were already up, and running to get lined up at the yard. An unorderly line of was formed, overseers of slaves weren’t exactly military grade, waiting to be called by name.

“Kasim! 20 libra.” A man came to the front to receive his pay, which was handed over personally by the head overseer. “Melissa! 20 libra.” This time a woman came to the front, receiving her pay. “Shinasi! 8 libra.” Shinasi stepped forward, receiving ten coins for his efforts (of doing as little as he could for four days).

“Alright, today is holiday for the second squad. Come back by night, now git!” Thus dissolved the line of men.

Shinasi was among the second squad, comprised of the newcomers to the estate. He parted ways with his ‘comrades’ to meet with his comrades.

80^th of Spring, 5859
Mount Curry, Azdavay / Casamonu

“Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, in earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever."

…old man, your food is getting cold. Ayomide thought so as she slowly chewed her daily bread, made by Hakim from shepherd’s reed flour.

Brown was continuing to pray while standing up, his head bowed down and hands clasped together. His prayer was mostly focused on asking the Lord for the salvation of his dear father, Owen Brown, the salvation of his many children who had perished back on Earth, and for the salvation of his heathen comrades on Gemeinplatz. He then pleaded the salvation of the people on Earth, on Gemeinplatz and on any other realms unknown to him that the Maker might have created before finally pleading for himself. Brown was a pro at prayer, with a brief and comprehensive style of prayer honed with years of piety. Praying for all of the aforementioned only took him two minutes.

“I would bear thy strokes, not merely because I cannot resist them, but because I love and trust in thee. I have no objection against being afflicted; against being afflicted in this particular way. Only be pleased, O Lord, to stand by me, and sometimes to grant me a favorable look in the midst of my sufferings. Amen.” Brown concluded his prayer, and calmly sat down with the others to eat.

Before he could have one bite of bread however, the cave had a visitor. “Captain! I’ve returned.” It was Shinasi, with a look of triumph mixed with that of complete exhaustion.

“Glory, hallelujah!” Brown handed his bread to Shinasi without much thought. “You must be hungry after all of that travel, young man.” He was excited to see his mole come back alive.

“Thank you, captain. I have much to tell you.” He began munching on the bread, which tasted no better than the food back in the Algernon Estate. Still, the blood and sweat of the enslaved tended to ruin the taste of bread, Shinasi had found out. “So, do you want me to start?”

“Of course, if you aren’t too tired. Everyone, gather around!” Everyone in the cave, which was Ayomide, Hakim and Tater, gathered around Brown and Shinasi. “Now, this young man will tell us the situation in the estate…”

“…and we’ll formulate a plan?” intervened Tater.

“Yes, you’re a clever boy, aren’t you?” Brown picked up a solid rock from the floor. He carved (in Gemeinplatzian translated to Latin script) “ESTATE MAP” on to a high point on the cave wall. Of course, nobody in the room could read what he had written, but Brown did so anyways. He had intended to begin teaching them Latin script, but the people in the cave had been too busy with the necessities of life (like food) and the necessities of emancipation (like spears).

“Oh, we’re drawing a map? One second, captain.” Shinasi took the stone off of Brown’s hands. “I’ve patrolled the estate extensively, and made a map in my mind. This is how it should look like…” He made a sketch of the estate’s surroundings to the best of his capabilities, which weren’t much in the case of cartography. Shinasi gave the stone back to Brown, and helped him with labeling the buildings on the map.

“Now, in terms of people…” Shinasi quickly gave a summary on the number of guards and slaves. “The mining slaves sleep in the shed near the mine, and the guards sleep at the barracks with rotating shifts. There are also two personal servants who sleep in a room of the mansion. I have made connections with those servants, keep that in mind when making your plans.”

“Excellent job, for a man like you anyways.” commented Ayomide. “What about the master of this estate? Anything we could use against him?”

“Of course, I can’t really make a judgement about a man’s character in only four days.” replied Shinasi “From what I’ve seen of Algernon, the type who’s quick to anger, especially against anyone who’s not a lightskin. His wife Leila is the only one holding him back from massacring all the slaves in a fit of anger, I feel. He also has two children, but I haven’t had any chance to interact with them.”

“Those who are quick to anger are also quick to be defeated, young man.” Brown made a notion towards the main building on the map. “Perhaps we should provoke him so that he’ll lower his defenses.”

“Umm… there was a proverb about how you have to cut heads off of stuff if you wanna kill them.” Tater scratched his head trying to remember it, but gave up halfway through. “Reckon we can capture him first so that he cannot order his goons around?”

“Separate him from Leila somehow, and we have a very angry man.” said Hakim, briefly reminiscing on the untempered temper of Jacob. “Maybe the servants you mentioned could help?”

“That might be a good idea, yes.” Brown had clasped his hands together on his back, as he did when thinking. “Hmm… Ahem, let us each deliberate on our own and gather together again to finalize a plan. We needn’t be brash unless it’s the right time for brashness, and now is not.”

The people of the cave agreed on this course of action, and they dispersed to their regular duties while hatching a plan for their first raid.

Chapter 21: Chapter XVIII – Ye who hath planned.

Chapter Text

82^nd of Spring, 5859
Mount Curry, Azdavay / Casamonu

With a plan set and ready to go, the people of the cave were working hard to prepare themselves for the big day, which would be on the last day of Spring on the 90^th. The squads of the estate alternated holidays every decameron; the first squad comprised of the more experienced overseers would be on holiday that day.

The first order of business was to prepare for combat. Ideally, there would be no combat needed if everything went to plan, but it wouldn’t hurt to prepare for the unideal to happen. Hakim and Tater were out in the open plateau with spears in their hands, being instructed by Brown and Ayomide.

Hakim threw a spear, twisting his arms in such an extreme manner that instead of flying up, it flew down right next to his feet. Tater had the opposite issue, where the spear flew directly up and, after almost causing another premature death for Brown by almost landing right on his head, landed at his feet.

Ayomide sighed and slapped her palm on her head (also commonly known as ‘a facepalm’). “You don’t need to twist your arms like that, come on.” Throwing a spear wasn’t exactly an exact science. “Hakim, release it a bit earlier. Tater, release it a bit later.”

Hakim and Tater threw their spears again, doing their best to follow the instructions of Ayomide. Hakim managed to threw his spear horizontally, but the spear ended up tumbling in the air and spun around before hitting the ground like a harmless twig. Tater managed to throw his spear horizontally as well, but his lack of physical strength made the spear land with strength comparable to a wet towel slowly colliding with a pot made of solid mithril.

Hakim threw the spear to the ground in frustration. “It’s so hard to throw these. Don’t think we’ll be able to get ready in eight days…” He took his axe that he had been carrying, and threw it toward a nearby tree. The axe hit the tree by the handle and dropped to the ground harmlessly, but this was still a better throw compared to a spear. “Just wish we could throw a spear like an axe.”

“Throw a spear like an axe? How’d you do that, geezer?” Tater tried to imagine how such a device could work, but his brain came up with nothing. He then had an idea. “A big sling that throws spears instead of stones would work.”

“A…” Ayomide elaborated on that idea, before coming to a sudden dead end. “That’s just called a ‘bow’. We could try making bows, how hard can it be?” Ayomide looked at Brown for help. “Old man, you said that you did a lot of shooting back in your day, you should know something or another about bows.”

“Young lady, I’ve never held a bow or crossbow in my life.” Brown was a man of the Beecher’s Bible.

They had looted a crossbow off of the guards in Azdavay, but the usage of the crossbow was blocked by the fact that they had forgotten to loot the spanning mechanism for it. The crossbow was too heavy to be drawn by hand, so it had laid around the cave without seeing use.

“What’d you shoot then? A sling?” Ayomide was running out of ranged weaponry.

“No, a gun.” Brown motioned his hands as if he was holding one. “You held it like this, I guess the closest thing this realm has are crossbows.”

“Guns? I’ve seen some back when I was in Casamonu. They had one big cannon on the wall, and some carried small hand cannons.” Tater carried his spear as if it was a hand cannon. “They held them more like this, however.”

“Ah! I remember one as well, I think.” Hakim paused to think of the exact details. “Umm… Right, right, I once saw an adventurer visit Jacob’s shop with this weird metal tube. He called it a ‘firearm’, and Jacob rambled on about something called the ‘second amendment’ with the customer.”

“…Old man, can you make guns?” asked Ayomide with great excitement. “You must’ve seen a lot of them. Making metal tubes don’t sound that complicated.”

“Young lady, do I look like Mr. Sharps to you? Of course, I cannot construct a gun just because I used them. It’s not just a metal tube, you need the primer, the powder, the trigger mechanism… There’s a lot to a gun.”

Hakim raised his hand. “I know where to get powder! With lye and sour milk, I can easily make us some of that good, white stuff.”

“We’re not talking about pearlash here, Mr. Hakim. It’s a different type of powder: gunpowder. However, it wouldn’t be too bad if you could get us some pearlash.” Pearlash (a.k.a. potassium carbonate) was used as a leavening agent; having leavened bread would be a great improvement to the quality of life in the cave instead of their current state of permanent Passover.

“…when did we begin talking about guns? Let’s return to the issue at hand here.” Ayomide had been staring at her spear intently after the possibility of having guns was shot down. If spears were to be thrown like axes, huh…

Ayomide was nothing close to an engineer, so nothing came to her mind for now. The rest of the day was spent with training which, in the end, didn’t prove to be of much use.

17 May 2023 / 82^nd of Spring, 5859
Seoul, Republic of Korea

Kim Seong-Min smashed his keyboard with fury never seen before on the Korean Peninsula. He had just lost a match at the last minute. “Damn these Chinese pigs, always cheating at the game!” said Kim, ignoring the fact that he was playing on the Korean server.

Just outside his office was Nirmal, who was unsure whether he should enter or not. He had learned, in his career on Earth, that interrupting these so-called ‘gamers’ during a fit of rage wasn’t a good idea. He had good news however, so he decided to enter in hopes that Kim would calm down.

I gently open the door, and…

“Damned Japanese, two wasn’t enough…” Kim was going on a racially charged tirade that had somehow shifted focus from the Chinese to the Japanese. He had already sparked a massive flame war among the other players in the in-game international chat. It took him a good minute to finally notice Nirmal standing by the door with a giant suitcase. “Hmm? What do you want, Nirmal?”

“Sir, if it isn’t too inconvenient…” Nirmal placed the pitch-black suitcase on the desk. “The items you requested have arrived. This is all we could get without being caught.”

“The… Right, the items I requested to help the Satō-Wang.” He wretched a bit on the inside on the mention of this surname. ‘Satō’ was a Japanese surname and ‘Wang’ was Chinese, implying that Count Leon and his family must have been the result of a close Sino-Japanese relationship. This combination was a most dreadful one for Kim, and he’d rather execute that man’s entire family rather than give him one groschen. Still, business interests superseded xenophobia.

Kim opened the suitcase, finding five M1 Garand rifles neatly packed together along with boxes of .30-06 Springfield cartridges to be used with the rifles. Having firearms without authorization was highly illegal in South Korea, but Kim couldn’t exactly stockpile weapons in an authorized manner. With a bit of money in the right pockets, he had imported a few ‘sporting’ rifles over from the United States. Of course, in this case, sport meant ‘hunting fugitive slaves’, they were bad for business after all. “You’ve got the men ready too, right?”

“Of course.” It wasn’t hard to find men capable of operating firearms in a country where conscription was mandatory. “They’ve all been briefed on the Otherworld, and they’re ready to step into the portal and go to Gemeinplatz as soon as possible.”

“Great.” Kim had the slightest hint of a smile on his face. He was happy to get back at the fugitives that had damaged his profits. “Send them over to the Count then.”

“Right away, sir.” Nirmal bowed down. “One last thing sir, I’d like to remind you that your sister’s visit to Gemeinplatz is going to be happening on Sunday.”

“Do-Yun’s coming over to Gemeinplatz so soon? Right, then delay the sending of the men until then. It’d be better if I pledged those men with her and myself present.” Kim thought that it’d be better if the Count saw the one oh-so graciously helping him out, and that it’d be good for his sister to see how far her brother had gotten. “Get me a fresh suit to wear for that occasion, from the same supplier in Milan as before.” The one thing Kim loved more than inciting flame wars was having clothing that was fire itself.

“Understood, sir.” Nirmal bowed again, and took his leave with the suitcase full of rifles. He breathed a sigh of relief when he was out of the door. It seemed that Kim hadn’t noticed anything yet. He took a disgusted look at the suitcase full of weaponry, before making his way to the corridor.

The skyline of Seoul was visible from a window in the corridor. It was night, but it was light as day no matter the hour. Nirmal stared at the sky, which had no visible stars thanks to light pollution. “My brethren… I hope that I won’t join you too soon. I still have a job to do.” He hummed a somber elven tune as nonchalantly as he could, exiting from the premises of the office.

“And a man from Azdavay says: Hey, what are you doing escaping from here? Oh, a man from Azdavay says…” Hakim was humming a makeshift tune while preparing light snacks with Tater during the night. Brown was praying while standing in a corner as usual, and Ayomide was reviewing the map of the Algernon estate.

“Hmm…” Ayomide was predominantly occupied with the idea of a spear that could be thrown more easily. While she was able to use magic, her affinity in wind and light didn’t constitute much in terms of offense. Sure, she could speed up a shot with wind, but having a faster shot to work off of would be of tremendous help.

…growl. Perhaps this wasn’t the right time to think. Ayomide couldn’t resist the callings of her stomach. She headed over to Hakim. “Whatcha cooking there?”

Hakim handed small balls of cooked dough in response. “I thought that cooking flatbread in smaller pieces might make it more digestible.” He had been done with the cooking, so he turned to the chef’s assistant, Tater. “Hand me a bar of soap, won’t you?”

Tater obliged. “Here.” Hakim did his best to clean the pot using some soap and water, and Ayomide watched while eating.

Suddenly, an unwelcome visitor showed itself on the entrance of the cave. It was a naughty slime, which had wandered towards them after hearing the smell of bread.

“Shoo, piss off!” Hakim wasn’t having any of it so he instinctively used the only weapon currently in his hand: the pot. He swung the pot, and the bar of soap still resting inside of it flew out like a stone launched by a catapult. The poor slime was hit square in its non-existent face, and ran away in terror. “Another bar of the soap, please.”

“Here.” Tater handed Hakim another bar, and they immediately got back to work.

That soap flew pretty far, didn’t it? The gear’s inside Ayomide’s flatbread-fueled brain began turning. What if… What if there was a spear inside that pot instead? She constructed what seemed to be a nonsensical sentence at first, before further deliberation on the topic began shaping something that might actually work. It doesn’t have to be a pot. Just something the spear rests on while being thrown in the same manner…

“Yeuwrikah!” shouted Ayomide, who had heard about Archimedes’ exploits from Brown but hadn’t heard of how to properly pronounce ‘eureka’.

Hakim turned toward Ayomide, with much confusion in his expression. “Yew re-cough?”

“Don’t matter how it’s spelled, what matters is that I just had an idea!”

In this chapter of the John Brown Isekai:

Kim Seong-Min has got the 'unnecessary nationalism' department well-covered.
(Original post by u/Blissfulss)

Chapter 22: Chapter XIX – Ye who hath (re)invented.

Chapter Text

84^th of Spring, 5859
Mount Curry, Azdavay / Casamonu

“Soo… Do enlighten us o’ Lady Orange, what’s this?” Hakim was holding an odd device that looked like a wooden pot with a very elongated handle. “Do I throw this at the enemy? I don’t think throwing spoons is going to help much.”

“Indeed, young lady. I appreciate your enthusiasm to the cause, and I’m sure that the Almighty is pleased with your hard work, but…” Brown scratched his head “Pray tell, what are we supposed to do with this?”

“It’s an ‘Orange Spear-Thrower M1’, or the M1 for short.” She took the M1 off of the hands of Hakim. “It’s like a pot, but instead of launching soap, it launches spears.”

Hakim’s confusion wasn’t cleared up on bit. “Pots… they don’t usually launch soap either.”

“Watch and learn.” Ayomide felt pretty cool after saying such a cliché line. She took one of the spears, and set it to stand on the ‘cup’ of the M1. Then she held the handle of the M1, while still holding on to the shaft of the spear, and swung the M1 around like how Hakim swung the pot without letting it go.

Much to Hakim’s and Brown’s surprise, the spear flew off in at an impressive speed of around 80 mph (~140 km/h), lodging itself into the ground over a hundred feet (30 m) away from Ayomide. “I think this pot’s done quite a good job.”

Brown couldn’t help but clap at the performance. “Oh! May God bless you, young lady, that’s excellent!”

“Can I try?” Hakim took the M1 from Ayomide, and imitated her in readying the spear. He swung it around, and the spear flew properly unlike his other tries. The only problem was the fact that he had instinctively let go of the device during launch, and the poor M1 flew along with the spear. “I guess… I could get used to it if I played around a bit more.”

Tater had been watching them from afar. “Maybe we could find some bird feathers to add to the spears? You know, like arrows have. I don’t know what those feathers do, but they must do something since they keep adding them.”

“Well, don’t matter whether we’ve got feathers or not.” Hakim readied another spear to be thrown. “We’ve got something that we can make a tasty shish kebab with, that’s all that matters.”

21 May 2023 / 86^th of Spring, 5859
Casamonu, Empire of Gemeinplatz

“I thought that you might be joking about all this ‘fantasy’ stuff, but… It’s real.”

Kim Seong-Min was taking a walk in the bustling streets of Casamonu along with his little sister, Kim Do-Yun (and his secretary, Mr. Nirmal). Flanking him were five bodyguards, all armed with the M1 Garand and an equally deadly sense of fashion.

Kim never felt this gratified in his life, turning so many heads with his designer suit and entourage of fancy bodyguards. All the time he had spent grinding dungeons and mastering the system for them felt worth it. Everyone on the street, from the paupers to the nobles, were removing their hats in salute at this impressive group of otherworlders.

A drop of sweat, formed from stress, dropped down from Do-Yun’s brow. “Wow, I’m getting a bit nervous from all the people staring at us…” She nervously laughed as she waved back at the passersby saluting them.

“Don’t worry, you get used to it.” Kim adjusted his sunglasses (bought for an amount that equaled a couple months’ minimum wage in Korea) “Besides, don’t we deserve this?”

“I guess we do.” Do-Yun continued smiling and waving “You must be very respected around here.”

“Indeed! Your brother is the richest person in all of Northern Gemeinplatz. Ha-ha-ha!” said Kim. He cracked a laugh that sat somewhere between evil and forced laughter. He stopped to point at a castle that sat atop a hilltop. “Look, here’s the castle of a genuine count. That’s where we’re going.”

“A count? A real one?!” Do-Yun was excited at the prospect. According to her extensive knowledge, derived from the genre of otome isekai that might not be all too familiar to some of our readers, she… didn’t know much about counts. She knew a lot about dukes, especially cold dukes from the north, but she hadn’t seen many counts.

Still, a count was like a smaller, more compact version of a duke, what could go wrong? Nothing, obviously. Maybe this’d be the start of a beautiful love story. The story of a beautiful girl from another world and the aloof count of Azdavay…

Kim and his sister hopped on a carriage that stood on the bottom of the hill, and began their ride up the spiraling road. The bodyguards marched in formation; Kim had made sure to drill them in formation marching beforehand. Everything was about prestige, after all. His bodyguards were actually a bunch of random Korean guys without actual combat experience, but to outsiders their uniforms and march made them look like elite units. A man commanding such elite units looked elite himself, obviously.

They got off the castle gates, which looked mighty tall. The rest of the castle, compared to the 3D-generated marvels that Do-Yun saw in manhwa, looked less mighty. It was a castle after all: a military building made for a military function. The walls were made of drab brick, with there being only a few walls to break the monotony of endless brick. Thankfully the castle was redeemed, in Do-Yun’s eyes, by the impressive mansion it contained within its walls.

“Is this the count’s mansion?” Do-Yun stared in awe. It was a bit smaller than she imagined it, but the mansion stood ever so grand nonetheless.

“It sure is!” Kim laughed in a most smug and boisterous fashion. “His is not that big. Mine is bigger.”

“I know. I’ve seen it multiple times.” She was referring to the Kim family’s estate, where their family had lived after Kim’s fantastic business ventures bore fruit. “And I still can’t believe the fact that I believed you got all that money for the mansion by investing in crypto.”

“It wasn’t a total lie. I sold all the Bitcoin I had bought in 2016 to fund my initial ventures into this world.” His other ventures into crypto hadn’t gone well. Eventually, even a man like Kim was able to realize a fundamental truth: one didn’t get rich by investing in crypto, one got rich by making others invest in crypto. So, he had stopped trading, instead making plans to open an exchange operated by his own Isegye Company.

They passed the castle gates with no problem, Kim’s countenance was well known around these parts, and were greeted by maids who began leading them towards the count.

Do-Yun was watching the maids with respectful intent as they travelled through the many corridors of the mansion. “They’ve got real maid outfits! Brother, can you get me one? I want to wear it as cosplay for a convention that’s coming up…”

Kim didn’t exactly want to order a maid outfit for his sister, wearing clothes of servitude weren’t exactly a thing of prestige. Not to mention the fact that ordering such a thing for his own sister would feel really, really creepy. He was a sleazy bastard, even Kim was self-aware enough to admit that, but at least he was not a sleazy bastard. “I can buy you a dress that’s far fancier than the daughter of the emperor himself would wear, how about something like that instead of the maid outfit? Though, maybe not too fancy as not to offend His Imperial Majesty.”

“Ah? There’s an emperor too?” The emperors tend to be the most handsome ones… I’d love to meet him, along with the crown prince. “I’d love to wear something like that to meet the emperor.”

“Then I’ll be commissioning one for you. The tailors in this world are pretty good, so expect something good.” Kim turned around to Nirmal, who nodded to show that he was already making plans to commission the dress.

The group finally arrived in front of the most decorated room in the mansion: the door leading to the throne room. “Right this way, sir and madame.” The heavy door needed one maid at each side to open, and even then, the maids struggled to open them. The hinges made a horrible creaking sound as the doors opened to reveal the grand throne room.

Count Leon was sitting on his throne at end of the room, he jumped up from his throne upon seeing his visitors. “Welcome Sir Kim. How great it is to see your presence in my throne room. Who would the fine lady next to you be?”

Kim bowed down to Leon. “Greetings, Your Excellency. This is my little sister, Kim Do-Yun.”

Do-Yun politely bowed upon seeing the count approaching him. “Mannaseo ban'gapseumnida.” Of course, she didn’t know any Gemeinplatzian, so she did her best by greeting him in Korean. She was slightly disappointed upon meeting Leon: he was a decently handsome man, sure, but a man in his forties was way outside of her preferences.

“Ah?” Leon cleared his throat; he hadn’t expected this sudden usage of Korean. He did his best to remember an accurate response. “Bawn… Bawngeibduh.” He had completely butchered the language. The count understood this by the way Kim was staring aggressively at him. “Apologies, my Hangvuki is a bit rusty you see…”

Kim was grinding his teeth in anger. “A-ha-ha. It’s no problem, Your Excellency.” He was trying his best to avoid saying anything unsavory after seeing the Korean language be butchered by the count. “Let us get to the main event.” He stepped aside to reveal his band of five merry men. “Here are the men for the Anti-Fugitive Operation.”

The count examined the soldiers carefully, making brief noises like ‘mhm’ to indicate his approval. “They’re only five men, but they seem to be of the highest quality anyone has pledged.” He pointed at the bayonets adorning the M1 Garands “Especially the blades on these spears. I’ve never seen steel like it.”

“Those are not spears, Your Excellency. They’re… hand cannons, manufactured on Earth.” He took a rifle from one of the men. “I’d like to have a demonstration, if that is not a problem.”

“Sure, Sir Kim. I could bring you a few live specimens to-”

Kim interrupted Leon as soon as he could. “No- No, that’s not necessary!” ‘Live specimens’ in this case referred to using injured and sick slaves, those who were already slated to die as healthy slaves were expensive, as target practice. Kim didn’t want his sister to see that, nor was he a sad*stic person who’d want to shoot someone else for fun. He was a sleazy bastard, not a sad*stic bastard. “Just any far away target will do, let us go to the garden.”

“Of course, sir.” The group quickly marched on down to the vast personal garden of the count. There was a great, pale tree down there, which had a few bolts already stuck to it.

Kim raised his rifle, disabled its safety and appropriately sighted it to 100 yards (91 m) to shoot at the tree. Leon watched him, curious as to what enigmatic machinations the earthlings had cooked up. “Watch, Your Excellency, as I now fire eight shots at this tree in less than ten seconds.”

“Wait, eight shots in… That’s ridicu-” Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang, ping!

The now emptied clip of the M1 Garand made its iconic clanging noise as it was ejected on to the ground. Kim wasn’t all that impressed, the rate of fire from a semi-automatic rifle wasn’t that awe-inspiring for a modern man like him who had operated a fully automatic assault rifle before. In contrast, Leon’s jaw had dropped (literally) in observance of the machine spewing fire. He had only heard rumors of earthling weaponry before, to see one in action was something else. Leon approached the tree to saw how many bullets this enigmatic device had lodged in the tree.

“…one, two, three, four, five.” He counted five bullet holes on the tree. “This is…” A very important question popped into his mind. “Can we buy these rapid hand cannons?”

“I’d love to sell these but…” Kim loaded another clip into the rifle. “…the Awmereighkan military would personally fly over from Chanakburg and annihilate us all if they caught a whiff of any native Gemeinplatzian troops using imported firearms.” He pointed at the tree, filled with bullet holes. “Those guys have an entire continent for themselves, with a massive military all armed with weapons that are far, far more terrifying than what you’ve seen here. This hand cannon is just an antique used by their civilians. For recreation. You don’t want to mess with them, I don’t want to mess with them, nobody wants to mess with them.” Kim was one of those overly nationalistic types, but even he had enough of a self-preservation instinct to stay away from provoking the Americans.

“…this thing is used by civilians?!” Leon instinctively took a few steps backwards from the rifle, afraid that he might touch it and be cursed by the Americans. “What… what has the Otherworld wrought upon us?”

Fantasy man meets fantastical weapon.

Some (non-)historical context: The weapon (re)invented by Ayomide is the spear-thrower (a.k.a. the atlatl), used by various groups of humans (on every continent Africa and Antarctica) since very early in the Stone Age. The spear-thrower acts as a lever over a long distance, increasing the energy (thus the speed and power) of the thrown spear compared to just throwing a spear by hand.

Modern earthling with a spear-thrower.

Chapter 23: Chapter XX - The hour is come.

Chapter Text

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I had reasoned this out in my mind; there was one of two things I had a right to, liberty, or death; if I could not have one, I would have the other; for no man should take me alive; I should fight for my liberty as long as my strength lasted, and when the time came for me to go, the Lord would let them take me.
- Harriet Tubman, as quoted in Harriet, The Moses of Her People (1886) by Sarah Hopkins Bradford

90^th of Spring, 5859
Estate of Sir Algernon, Azdavay / Casamonu

Today was the day. It wasn’t yet the time, however, as it was just the morning. Shinasi and everyone else in the barracks woke up with the bell ringing. They lined up in front of the head overseer, and he again paid them their wages.

“Today is holiday for the first squad. Now git, and come back by night!” Upon the command of the overseer, the more experienced overseers of the first squad dissolved to make their way to Azdavay or Casamonu. They disappeared from sight on their steeds, most of them had enough money to afford one, while Shinasi watched them to make sure they were gone.

Shinasi’s comrades would arrive by noon. He had to work as usual until then, and today’s work was patrolling the small personal garden of Lord Algernon while the slaves worked to attend it.

The garden truly was a small one, and no impressive plants grew this high up on the mountain. Shinasi encountered Ejike and Ekene trimming a hedge with a pair of scissors. They came eye-to-eye, and quickly nodded at each other in silence to ensure that they were in on the plan.

Shinasi quickly marched away from them as if he had nothing to do with the siblings, only for him to encounter another pair of siblings. They were the children of Algernon and Leila, Shinasi estimated that they were no older than ten years old. Their small garments were fancier than anything Shinasi could ever dream to lay his hands on. He felt his own disappointing pair of pants be tugged; looking down he saw that the culprit was the sister. “Hey, mister.”

“Yes, Ani?” Shinasi hadn’t interacted much with the children.

“Do you want to play Awmereighkan handball with us?” Shinasi saw that Timmy, Ani’s brother, holding a leather ball shaped like a lemon. He had participated in many a handball match in his youth, and Shinasi wouldn’t say no to a way to kill time. “Sure.”

“Then our goal is between these bushes, and your goal is on the opposite bushes.” Ani backed away from Shinasi. “Let’s go!”

“Wait, now?” Before Shinasi could properly ready himself, Timmy kicked the ball toward Ani and the match started. Shinasi dropped his spear and shield, in preparation to meet the little girl kicking the ball towards his general direction. He had always thought that the game being called ‘Awmereighkan handball’ was odd when players mostly interacted with the ball using their foot.

Putting aside idle thoughts, Shinasi met his foe and easily stole the ball away from Ani thanks to him being a fully grown adult. He then kicked the ball, the ball whizzing past Timmy and stopping somewhere between the bushes, and scored his first goal. He felt oddly proud of the fact that he had beaten a pair of noble kids.

While Shinasi was busy gloating over his victory, Timmy picked up the ball and launched it toward Shinasi’s bushes, managing to score a goal. “Mister, your long, pike-like legs are no good. We’re even now!”

“Oh, you brats. It’s on!” Thus, Shinasi spent half an hour kicking the ball to-and-fro with the children. Many laughs were had, and everybody involved seemed to enjoy it until an intruder came to visit them.

“Shinasi.” The aforementioned Shinasi turned around to see his temporary employer, Sir Algernon.

Shinasi instinctively bowed down the best as he could. “Oh, I’m so sorry sir, I just-“

Algernon stopped Shinasi mid-bow. “No, no- I just wanted to say that you were doing a good job. I’ve been watching you from afar, and dare I say, you’ve done a great job at keeping these little brats occupied.” Shinasi raised himself straight, mumbling a few words of gratitude. “You know, I think you might be more suited at babysitting rather than an overseer!” Algernon laughed at his own joke and Shinas joined with his own awkward laughter. "Sorry for interrupting you, you may continue." He took is leave, leaving Shinasi alone with the kids.

Shinasi watched as Algernon left. That man’s the father of these kids, isn’t he…

“Mister?” Timmy threw the ball at Shinasi. He took it in his hands and threw it back at Timmy.

“Sorry, but I’ve got to go now.” He took his spear and shield into hand, walking away from the scene as quickly as possible. Playing with the kids he’d help potentially orphan left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Are we there yet?” complained Tater. He, Brown, Ayomide and Hakim were marching on towards the copper mine. While they had originally planned to undertake this operation at night, it was deemed to valuable to attack during the noon when the veteran overseers were away on holiday.

Ayomide reprimanded Tater by giving him a slap on the neck. “Course we ain’t there. Be quiet!”

Tater bowed his head, keeping accordingly quiet. Their group was doing their best to travel just off the path in cover of the trees. They wanted no trouble until they reached the estate, which they had reached just now.

Brown whispered to the group. “Alright, does everyone remember what they need to do?”

“Aye.” It wasn’t hard to forget what they had been rehearsing for an entire decameron.

“Then, may God grant us victory. Skedaddle!” Brown and Ayomide were the first ones to rise up from the trees, and in a way that might seem detrimental at first, walked on the path and approached the gate of the estate. There was an overseer standing guard in a wooden shack, overseeing the path from Azdavay.

The overseer noticed Brown, who was limping while being held up by Ayomide. He had blood smeared on his pants. “Sir? Are you fine?” He left his booth and hastily approached the pair.

“Man-bears… One of them ran up and-” Brown coughed, and almost fell off the hold of Ayomide.

Ayomide was visibly struggling to carry Brown. “Sir, can you help me carry my master?” She looked at the overseer with pleading eyes. “I- I’ll do anything you ask for. Please!”

“O- Of course!” The overseer sheathed his blade, intending to help Ayomide hold Brown up.

However, Brown had a surprise in store for him. “What th-mmph!” The frail-looking old man suddenly jolted upwards with unexpected vigor and tackled the overseer, blocking his mouth with his hand. “I’m not fine, boy, for I am sick of your ilk!” He took out a long rope made of cloth he had kept from Jacob’s establishment, and gagged the man. Ayomide helped restrain him further by tightly binding his hand and feet with a rope made of shepherd’s reed’s straw.

“That was some good acting, old man.” said Ayomide as she tied the last knot on the rope. “I honestly thought that you were actually dying for a second there.”

“I pray that I won’t be dying in such a manner.” Brown looked at his pants, covered in bird blood. “Such a shame, I hope that I’ll be able to properly wash these later.” The pair carried the man back to his booth, closing the door behind him. They then waved their hands toward the rest of the group, who were still in the forest, signaling them to go through the gate for the next phase of the operation.

One overseer down, nine to go.

Meanwhile, Shinasi was busy being on breaktime. He entered a small cabin, meant for overseers taking breaks. There he saw his occasional drinking buddies, Kasim and Melissa, chatting away with each other.

“Oh, Shinasi. You on break too?” Kasim noticed the two jugs being held by Shinasi “What are those? Got us something to drink?”

“Indeed, I do.” Shinasi had spent all his newly gained 8 libras on wine. “Fine stuff imported all the way from Ancoire.”

“Ancoire wine? I’ve… heard about it.” Melissa shook her head as if she knew anything. She didn’t, the only oenophile in the group was Shinasi. “Is it a good idea to drink so much when we’re on the job?”

“Come on, the day’s already over anyways.” Shinasi placed the jugs on the table. “One is for me, share the other amongst yourselves.”

“Eh? You get one all to yourself?!” Kasim seemed annoyed at this proposition. “Come on man…”

Shinasi smirked in the smuggest manner he could conjure. “Pfft, I bet you couldn’t even last one cup.” He took two cups from a cupboard, and gave them to Kasim and Melissa. “How about a bet? If you drink your portion before I finish mine, then I’ll give each of you ten libra. If you lose, then you do the same for me.”

Kasim didn’t want to lose face, so did Melissa. “It’s on!” They poured the wine into their cups, taking a big gulp. Both felt their throats burn up, and Kasim couldn’t help but cough in pain. “What in the Otherworld is this? It’s too strong… Is this even wine?” He looked at his opponent, only too see Shinasi leisurely drinking away without any problem. Kasim did his best to not lose to Shinasi, pouring himself another cup.

After around twenty minutes of pain, the combined coalition of Kasim and Melissa had emptied their jug before Shinasi. However, they had no time to celebrate their victory. They both felt nauseous, and were seeing even seeing doubles. “Whah- whah de hewl did you make ush dreink?”

Shinasi was casually sipping away at his wine. “Well, I’ll have to tell you that grapes don’t grow much in Ancoire. They don’t make any proper wine there.” He finished his cup, and poured himself more from his jug. He continued casually nerding out. “So, ‘Ancoire wine’ usually refers to rakija around those parts, they distill it, not once but twice, from molasses that they make from locally produced sugar beets. Gives it the bitter taste you’ve just experienced. Quite a strong drink, and I made sure I got the strongest one from the market as a gift for you two. For all I know, the ones you drunk might be thrice-distilled. Imagine that!” He intended to pour himself more again, only to find his jug to be empty. “Of course, I prefer wine so I bought plain old wine imported all the way from Esmira for myself… Oh, you’ve both gone asleep.” He looked at the pair of unconscious overseers who couldn’t hold the copious amount of ethanol in their system. “…I guess people to tend to fall asleep when I talk about these things.”

Two overseers down, seven to go.

Thus marks the beginning of the adventures of Shinasi the Wine-Assassin.

Chapter 24: Chapter XXI – The unrest is come.

Chapter Text

Lady Leila was resting in her bedroom, reading a book about the wonders that laid on Earth. She was softly rocking back on forth on a chair, cozying herself by the fireside.

Today was a good day.

“On the island of Nehoun, carriages called the sheenkawnsen connect the entire island, allowing one to travel the Nehounchin realm in one day… How peculiar!” She turned the page to see hand-drawn illustrations of Japanese bullet trains, which looked like odd metallic snakes to her. “I wonder if we’ll ever get to see any of these…” She put her hand on her belly, thinking such thoughts of idle semi-philosophy. Earth was a place that she’d love to visit as family one day.

She lazily stretched her arms, and turned to the next page. It was one on Japanese cuisine, which contained many items that weren’t too unfamiliar to anyone in Gemeinplatz. Rice, curry and soy sauce had become a staple food item long ago thanks to every otherworlder bringing their own cuisine to Gemeinplatz. She glanced over this page as it contained nothing interesting, turning over to one with Japanese sweets. These weren’t too alien as well, everybody had mochi at least once in their lifetime.

Still, speaking (or more accurately, reading) of sweets had made Leila crave some. She would normally go to the kitchen herself to order something, doing at least that instead of calling over a servant made her feel less lazy. But, carrying around another human being made it hard to go do just that, and she instead opted to look out the window to see if there were any servants in sight.

She saw Ekene and Ejike busy in the garden, probably trimming some hedges as usual. Leila called out to them. “Ekene, Ejike! The usual, please.” The siblings rushed inside in response, as they would normally do. The only thing left for Leila was to wait. She was from a family whose only claim to fame was being very far relatives of the royal line, being able to command someone to do something was a guilty pleasure of hers that satiated the royal blood coursing through her veins.

Of course, this kind of lifestyle was built off of the back of countless bodies down in the copper mine, but she liked to think of this as a civilizing force for the darkskins. She had read about how savage the darkskin and demi-human lands were, with their tribes apparently containing no rule of law compared to the oh-so civilized Gemeinplatz. Leila didn’t support the heavy-handed approach her husband sometimes had, who saw the darkskins as akin to dogs. She saw them more like children, ignorant and rowdy, in desperate need of the guidance of the lightskin race.

She heard a knock on the door. “Lady Leila, it’s us.” It was the siblings. Ekene brought forward a cup of tea and a tray of cookies. That was unusual. Ejike stayed behind, standing next to the door. Leila felt a slight hint of unease.

Click, clunk. Ejike locked the door swiftly as he could after taking a deep breath. Leila watched him, eyes wide open. “W-what are you doing, Ejike?”

“Please, be quiet as you can, mistress. We do not intend to hurt you.” In stark contrast to his statement, he took out a kitchen knife while nervously pointing it towards his former master. “Please, do not force us to do anything rash.”

Today was a good day.

“Sir Algernon!” Shinasi was running fast as his legs could carry him. He found Algernon resting in his lonesome. “Your wife, she-”

Algernon suddenly ceased his relaxing posture, “She’s what?”

Shinasi took a break to catch his breath after running so quickly from the guard’s shed. “She’s… gone into labor sir! We’ve called over the midwife, everything, she wants to see her dear husband.”

“She wants to do that?” A man being in the room during birth seemed odd to him, but he didn’t see any reason not to oblige. “I’m coming, Leila!” He and Shinasi rushed over to the bedroom, both of them left panting by their swift run. Shinasi knocked on the locked door.

“It’s me, and the master!” The door quickly opened up. Algernon rushed into the room, only to find the servant siblings and his wife, who was clearly not in any sort of labor.

“What’s happen- ARGH!” Algernon’s query was prematurely answered by the shaft of Shinasi’s spear bashing against his kneecaps. He crashed to the floor, and the siblings rushed to restrain him.

“Damn you darkskins, and you darkskin loving motherfuc-mmrgh!” The siblings conveniently censored their former master by shoving a tablecloth in his mouth. The once grand Algernon looked quite ridiculous while squirming on the ground.

“That’s the big cheese dealt with.” Shinasi’s eyes came into contact with those of Leila’s, who were watching him with shock. “My sincere apologies, missus, for causing so much commotion.”

The squad of Brown, Ayomide, Hakim and Tater had quietly advanced up to the slave barracks, which lay next to the mines. There were five overseers, all armed, watching over the slaves as they dug the open field mine.

The emancipationist squad stood at a slightly higher position, mining operations tended to lower elevation, and the overseers were too busy watching over the slaves to notice them. One of the overseers stood next to the door of the barracks, while the rest were in the mining field. One of them had a crossbow, while the rest had the trusty shield and spear combo.

Everybody took a deep breath. This was potentially the deadliest part, where actual combat would take place.

Brown gulped, and began putting the group’s drill into practical use. “Alright, plant spears.” They used the tip of the spears to plant them on the ground, so that they could quickly pluck them when firing. “Ready arms.” They put spears on the M1, and raised them ready to fire. “And… May God grant us victory, aim at the guy in front of the barracks, and fire!” Brown shouted the last order, and everyone released their spears in unison.

Two of the flying spears found their target and lodged themselves inside the overseer in front of the barracks. Not many people could stand after being skewered by spears, and this overseer was no exception. He fell down, immobilized.

Brown gave no time for the overseers to react. “Now at the guy with the crossbow, ready arms, fire!” They all fired, but missed the crossbowman standing far away. The crossbowman had broken from his shock, and fired a bolt at the emancipation squad. Hakim was hit right on the knee, and subsequently fell down as his knee failed.

“Do not fret! Ready arms, fire!” Three spears made their way toward the crossbowman, and one of them got a lucky headshot. He fell down, dead by the time he hit the ground.

The remaining three overseers got into formation, forming an impromptu shield wall against their foes. Brown ordered his men to fire another round, but the stone spears only managed to lodge themselves into the shield without penetrating them. The emancipation squad prepared themselves for tactical retreat, except for Hakim who still couldn’t stand.

Suddenly, one of the overseers fell down with a pickaxe lodged in his spine. They had exposed their backs to the slaves, and one the slaves had taken advantage to throw his pick. The two remaining overseers instinctively turned around to see who attacked them.

Brown had been praying for something like this to happen. It seemed that the Almighty had granted him His grace. “Fire!” Another round of spears found themselves flying toward the overseers, one of them fell down as a spear lodged itself to his flesh.

The last remaining overseer did the most rational thing he could, and threw down his spear and shield to surrender. He was restrained by one of the slaves.

Four overseers down, three to go.

Ayomide crouched down to heal Hakim, while Brown stepped forward to address the newly emancipated. “The time is come, ye who art the enslaved of this realm. We ought to obey God rather than men, and today we shall rid you of the man you have obeyed for so long!” He turned around to Ayomide, who had finished healing Hakim by now. Brown thought that her addressing the crowd would be more appropriate, since most of his usual rhetoric didn’t work in Gemeinplatz, and she stepped forward in his stead.

Ayomide raised her voice as high as she could. She had been training her rhetorical skills as much as she trained in combat, having prepared a speech in case she needed to give one. “Brothers and sisters! You who are in bondage since birth, you who have been forced into bondage! You, the meek who shall inherit the earth of Gemeinplatz! You might have heard about the uprising in Azdavay, and let me tell you, it shall not stay an isolated incident.” She raised her hands, pointing toward the lowlands visible from their position. “For the oppressed of this land have found themselves tired and beaten, and they now cry for sweet liberty! Now the flame of uprising has made its way to this estate, and I believe that my siblings here shall do the right thing and join us in fueling the fire.”

Ayomide’s rhetoric seemed to be much more effective. There were positive shouts from the crowd, as they raised their fists and picks. Her plan of agitating the crowd had worked. “We shall fight for emancipation, not for those of you in the mine, but for all of us. The slaveowners will arm themselves and fight, we’ll drown them in our numbers. The adventurers will be paid to slay us, we’ll slay them for free. The lords will levy their men, we’ll levy ourselves without anyone telling us to where and when. We are what this empire is built upon, we only need to rise up from the foundations for the whole rotten structure to come crumbling down!”

The crowd was in a frenzy. Now that they were agitated, and therefore willing to listen, Ayomide continued on to instilling their cause into the people in the crowd. She turned around to present Hakim and Tater to the audience. “Now, my friend Hakim over here, he used to be a chef in a café down in Azdavay, Here’s his assistant, little Tater. They cooked for others without end, the most delicious and delectable food you can think of. What’d they get in return? A bunch of gruel.” The crowd sounded displeased; they could relate to such a situation. “You, you mine copper that is made into the fanciest things in all of Gemeinplatz. The emperor himself probably has his palace decked in copper, brass, bronze, everything that none of us can ever dream of even seeing. Yet, is a man not entitled to his own labor, his own copper? Do you deserve gruel for breaking your backs until you die? No, no I say, let us be free to eat the fruit of our own hard work!”

Ayomide had come to the last part of her speech. With a cause instilled, now was the time to for the grand finale: a call to action. “Now, to take back your freedom and liberty, to take back your hard work, to live and die with dignity, who is willing to fight? Who is brave enough to face poverty, war, and death with us? Those who do not have the courage, you are free to head to the dwarves in Zon’guldac. Those who do…” Ayomide added a pause here for dramatic effect “…rise up ye gallant children of Gemeinplatz! We have nothing to lose but our chains! Today, you have worked in the mines and must be tired. Next morning, we shall get together in the mansion and discuss our plan of action together.”

Thus began a great war that’d irreversibly change an entire empire.

Chapter 25: Chapter XXII – The revolution is come.

Chapter Text

It was night, and like many other nights, the overseers of the first squad had drunk themselves to an inebriated stupor. The world was their oyster, and oysters went well with booze. The newcomers would deal with anything that happened anyways; they needn’t worry about their own state. With incongruous speech and laughter, they were on the path back, hearts carrying no worries or fears.

This group saw Shinasi at the gate. He saluted them while furrowing his brows. “You’re a bit late.”

They passed Shinasi without caring about his remark, only one of them stopped to reassure him. “Thatsh you Shenasshy? Dun’t wurry, we’ll short thish out… wif de big head oversheer. You keap thish plaesch shecyure, mmkay?”

“Don’t worry, everything is all fine and dandy around here. As safe as it could be.” Shinasi turned around to address the rest of the drunken crowd. “You all, quickly go to the barracks before the head overseer notices your absence!”

Shinasi received a solitary reply. “Yer not mah father!” Still, they didn’t want to be berated by their boss, so they hurried to their barracks to rest.

It was dark out, so they noticed nothing out of the ordinary like the fact that there was no one else outside or the fact that the slaves were ready, with weapons and rope in hands, and positioned inside the barracks to capture every last one of them.

Without being able to put up much, or any, resistance, the last of the overseers were captured by the freemen of the estate. The raid of Sir Algernon’s Estate concluded thus, with no casualties except for a few overseers.

1^st of Summer, 5859
Former Estate of Sir Algernon (new name pending), Azdavay / Casamonu

With summer came more rain, combined with rising temperatures this made summer an unbearable, humid hell for many in the lowlands of Northern Gemeinplatz. Especially those otherworlders coming from a colder and dryer climate would be unlucky to find themselves sent here at such an inconvenient time.

Thankfully, for one certain American whom was known as John Brown, he was busy being high up in the mountains where the temperatures were cool and the air was suitably dry. He watched the dawn of a new day along with his newly emancipated comrades-in-arms.

Of course, they weren’t here to leisurely watch the sun rise, as beautiful as the scenery was. Brown would have loved to sit, relax, and pray away while partaking in what he saw as the Lord’s majestic Creation in full display. However, there were many things to do today. These things to do started with the carrying out of heavy justice.

All of the (now former) overseers were lined up in the yard for payday, of the non-monetary kind. The freemen were crowded together into the yard as they watched their former oppressors be thrown into such a sorry state, the tension and irony in the air feeling quite palpable to everyone in the yard. Brown and Ayomide marched on, as they inspected every single one of his special guests. They reached a pile, of rope and sacks, ready to get on with their business.

“By order of the Lord Almighty, we have gathered here to right what has been made wrong.” Brown took one of the ropes, tying it into a noose. He further tied this noose to a cherry tree that had failed to bloom in the cold mountains. The freemen followed, preparing a noose for everyone on death row.

“Now, to make sure that there are no miscarriages in our justice…” Brown turned around to the audience of freemen “…does the jury agree that all these people, who are lined up in front of us, are truly guilty and deserving of their punishment?”

This question was only a rhetorical one, the freemen knew the answer, though there wasn’t much to trial. In front of them were those who had beat, whipped and violated them to no end. Those who’d, if successful, would see them waste away in the copper mines. Life had been made hell for them up until now; the overseers had a lot to sow from what they had reaped. Hence, the response was uniform: “Yes!” The ‘trial’ of the overseers ended. They were guilty.

In an ideal world, Brown wouldn’t have to hang anyone, or fight with anyone. In his heart, he was a humanitarian man of peace who saw the aforementioned as a waste of human life. Unfortunately, Brown hadn’t been born in, and sent to, an ideal world. A man like him could only be at peace when he arrived at the Pearly Gates. “So be it… May God have mercy on your souls!”

With the command given, the crowd of slaves carried their oppressors toward the trees, and put them on boxes and chairs from the mansion. Some of the overseers were pleading, some were resisting, some had quietly accepted their fate. They were all gagged to prevent the use of magic, so not much could be heard from them.

With a harmony oft seen in orchestras, this orchestra playing the song of the oppressed, the chairs and boxes were kicked and the oppressors were left to hang.

“That’s Kasim. Bastard was the one who whipped me yesterday.” Ekene spat out the hull of a sunflower seed, quickly taking another one from a bowl. Her brother was doing the same as they watched the hangings from the second floor, where the room of the former mistress lay. The siblings were in a state of jubilee, but they were too tired from their grueling life of work to show it openly, contenting themselves with an internal feeling of alleviation.

In great contrast to the relaxed attitude of the siblings sat another pair of siblings and their mother, (soon to be not a) Lady Leila. Ani and Timmy were huddled together, while Leila was trying to assure them that everything was going to be fine (it was going to be fine, just not for their father). “He’s going to a better place now…” With how he had treated the slave however, even Leila had doubts as to whether her husband would end up in a good otherworld.

“Oh, there’s the big man.” Ejike pointed at Algernon being carried by slaves. “He’s gonna be gone in a moment now. Can’t believe it.” He spat out a hull, aiming at the balding head of Algernon. This shot somehow landed right on top of his head, though the moribund Algernon wasn’t in a state to care.

His sister attempted the same, but Ekene missed by a wide margin. “I can’t believe it either. We get to spit hulls on him all we like, and no one in sight is here to whip us.”

Ejike stopped his sister from speaking further. “Ssh! That Brown is speaking.” They could easily hear him through the window.

“Hear me, ye who art freed!” Brown stood in the middle of the crowd, Algernon in hand. This was to be the apex of the day. “The Good Book commands, ‘blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy’. I ask of you: has this man shown ye mercy? Does he deserve our mercy?”

The response of the crowd was united and resolute. It was a big “No!” chanted by thirty or so souls in unison.

Algernon looked shocked at this united front. His brief stint in death row had allowed him to prepare his final words. “Have I not fed you, and clothed you? Have I not given you a job, and disciplined you to the best of my ability? What is with this ungrateful mob you’ve formed?”

“And you’ve fed yourself even more, you pig!”

“I never chose to work here!”

“Stick that whip up your arse!”

Brown didn’t approve of the uncouth manner some chose to reply to Algernon, profanity was a big no-no, but he was happy to see the passionate response of the audience. “Well, Sir Algernon. I am a man of the book, and of many books. Let me give you another passage that I think all can agree on, be they Christian or heathen.” He was the only Christian in the audience, actually, but he chose to ignore that for now. “‘Do to others whatever you would like them to do to you.’ That is the Golden Rule, upon which I base my cause, and think that all should base their cause, upon.” He leaned forwards, meeting directly eye to eye with Algernon. “Now, Mr. Algernon. Be honest to yourself and God. What have you done?”

Algernon briefly fell silent. It was clear that there was no clear way for him to survive today. “You are trying to run a circus consisting of these sad monkeys, out of some insane idea of thinking that these dogs are equal to you. I hope that your band of savages are taken out before they cause too much damage.”

“I do agree that these people are quite sad-looking.” Brown began pushing Algernon forward toward a noose “I’m doing my part, right now, by enacting punishment on the culprit who has caused such a sad state.” One of the slaves covered Algernon’s head with a sack “There’s one savage to take out, Mister Algernon, and it is you.”

Algernon was raised up with a chair. One of his former slaves stepped forward to deal the coup-de-grâce. “May God have mercy on your poor soul!”

With Brown’s declaration, and a kick to the leg of the chair, Algernon was no more.

…I sense a great disturbance in the force.

Up, high up on the mountains sat a dimly lit room, occupied by one lonely man. He sat with his legs crossed, hands sitting on his lap. This man was Master Long Dong of the Supreme Heavenly Immortal Taoist Sect (or the Dong Sect for short), who had been attempting to reach a breakthrough for the last ten thousand years (or so he says, he had only been locked in this room for three years).

However, something sudden had interrupted his calm meditating session. A sudden irregularity in the weave of qi, as if a dozen souls had been condemned to death in these mountains. He focused his mind even further, seeing images of a group of spirits rising high above to the sky. What happened here? Sudden monster attack? Nuclear explosion? Someone making a sacrifice to some eldritch god? There weren’t many people in these mountains; so many people dying at once was most unusual.

Dong attempted to channel one of the condemned spirits. To his vision came a portly nobleman, who seemed equally distressed and furious. “The empire is falling, sir! Gemeinplatz will be doomed if we do not stop them!” He quickly floated away, the spirits of the newly deceased weren’t the most stable.

Gemeinplatz falling? Dong focused even further, trying to pierce the foggy veil that laid between him and the future. This technique of seeing the future was one taught to him by Diu Nei, one of the jade beauties who he could barely remember the jadely countenance of.

Foreseeing events wasn’t beyond him; to a man that had travelled a myriad realms and a centillion li, seeing a glimpse of the future was like seeing Mount Tai. From the simple son of a factory worker in Shandong, Dong had become something much greater with every ascension into a further realm, every realm he learned new powers that he’d forget to use in later chapters of his extremely drawn-out story. Gemeinplatz was just another stepping stone in his journey to defy the heavens.

After a stient of intense meditation, vague and sporadic visions of the imperial capital of Hauptstadt flooded his mind. Those are… soldiers. Crumbling walls. Flags, people storming the walls… No these are not people. They’re demi-humans, slaves, the lot. A strong, ancient presence stands behind them, commanding them… a Demon King of some sort? People are hanging. A lot of them. The emperor is dead. The empire is dead. A grueling war shall come. Thousands will die. His head was starting to hurt at this point and, due to the absence of painkillers to relieve it, Dong had to stop this sneakpeek into the future.

One of the disciples came running into the room, completely interrupting Dong’s serene state. “Master are you fine? You have been screaming for the last hour…”

Dong quickly snapped back at the disciple “Didn’t tell you idiots to not run in when I’m meditating?! Yes, I’m very much fine. One tends to scream when they’re looking into the future, that’s a normal part of how things work, disciple.”

The disciple breathed a sigh of relief. “I- Is it… What have you seen, master?”

“…Terrible things.” Dong slowly rose up from his seated position. “We must ready ourselves to save this realm if need be.” Dong couldn’t help but cackle. His pitiful sect had been stuck up here for heavens-knows how long, a heroic act could be all that he needed to win the favor of realm. Just thinking of the riches, and the jade beauties, pleased him enough.

“Get everyone together. Get in contact with the local government. We shall defy fate.”

Chapter 26: Chapter XXIII – The assembly is come.

Chapter Text

“People! Folks! Gather around, gather around. No pushing, please.” Brown and Ayomide stood in the middle of a large crowd that had formed in the former dining room of the Algernon mansion.

After the executions and an establishment of temporary order came the time to organize the freemen. Brown’s men had already gained their favor by emancipating them, and they hoped that convincing the newly emancipated wouldn’t be too hard. The former slaves of Algernon sat at the chairs, and on the ground as there were not enough chairs, waiting for the ‘council’ to begin its session.

Brown watched as the last of the men entered the hall. “Alright, I think we’re settled. In the name of our Lord, and our Savior…” He looked around to see if everyone was present “…we hereby declare the Eleventh Session of the Provisional Council of Curry to be in session!”

“…the what?” One of the newly freed men voiced an opinion that mirrored many in the room.

Ayomide was tasked with an explanation that wasn’t too alien, for Brown tended to go on long rants about ‘the Constitution’ and ‘man’s God given right to liberty’ that weren’t too popular. “Basically, instead of getting one leader to decide things for us and order us around, we do things…” What was that word again… “…dehmokraktikellie. Like how they do things in town halls, and…” Ayomide continued on with her explanation on democratic institutions until she felt that the crowd was educated enough. “…so, let us begin.”

There was a murmur travelling among the freemen. It stopped as a young man stepped forward from among them. “Then, I’d like to ask a few questions.”

“That is what you are supposed to do, young man. No need to ask for permission.” Brown was happy to see the glimpses of participation. “What’d your name and question to this council be?”

“Bilal, mister. I work at the copper kilns.” He took his own place at the center to address the crowd more effectively. “I was wondering about the speech your friend gave yesterday, about rising up and whatnot. Are… are we actually going to do something like that?”

“Yes. We’re not stopping until we free everyone or we all die. Ayomide’s statements are not rhetorical.” Brown hesitated not in giving an answer, and the rest of his crew were in various levels of agreement.

Sounds of disbelief came from the crowd. Freeing all the slaves? While they were all locked up in some God-forsaken copper mine in an even more God-forsaken mountain? What were these madmen up to? They had all thought that they’d be making their way toward Zon’guldac by now.

“What’s your plan sir?” It seemed that Bilal had taken the role of acting as a representative. “I think, and the others think, that it’s obvious that we should be making plans for escape, not for stay.”

“I’m not forcing you to stay here. Nobody is. Those who want to leave, can leave. I only ask you to lend me an ear and decide afterwards if you want to do so.” Brown raised his voice. “I believe that, if you were to hear our plans, then you all would be able to make a decision that is beneficial to the commonwealth of the realm.”

“Then let us hear, Mister Brown, your plan.” Bilal crossed his arms, showing that acceptance wouldn’t come easily.

“I’m happy to receive your cynicism, I’d rather have men thinking for themselves rather than those who are left as slave in their way of thought.” Brown clapped his hands. “So, let us begin.” He began circling around the dining table while talking, his hands clasped on his back.

“So, I understand that you might have some concerns. It is only natural to have those when you’re going to face an entire empire. But!” Brown raised his voice “Let me remind you that we’re facing an empire of lords and feuds. I, back in my home, had to face the might of an entire union of states!” Of course, Brown didn’t exactly have the best of knowledge on feudal politics aside from the works of Shakespeare and other great writers. Still, if his assumption that this world would function similarly was correct, then it meant that the empire wasn’t as united as it seemed at first glance. “Our enemy underestimates you, and looks down you as subhuman! Tell me, who will win: a united front of the downtrodden or a disunited front of delusional silver-spoon lords?”

Brown paused to let the freemen debate each other for a minute or two. The voices seemed only a slight bit more positive; this was a improvement nonetheless. The voices silenced themselves when Bilal raised another objection. “And so? The count or some other lord can still easily extinguish us with their retainers. What do we do about that?”

Brown wished that he had a map to point to during this presentation, but he didn’t. He did his best by using the cutlery that was on the dining table. He began by placing a large silver cup and a smaller ceramic cup next to each other. “Now, on one side is the might of a lord. On the other is us. Of course, you might think that facing this Goliath requires us to become a goliath of our own. I’d argue the opposite!” He threw a small cloth over the small cup “We are in the mountains, concealed from their sight. They know not exactly where we are, and we can retreat if they do find out.” Such tactics, as Brown had learned from the people of Haiti, would be plenty effective against an empire.

Brown flicked the silver cup with his fingers; he recoiled as his finger hit the hard silver. The cup was knocked backwards, slightly towards the edge of the table. “We can strike, and they’ll know not when, who, or what hit them. The slavers do not slave others just for the fun of it; they slave out of their greed. If we hit them where it hurts, right in the economy, by raiding their estates, their businesses, then their strength will only further dwindle and dwindle while ours only grow with each man we free.” This time he pushed the small ceramic cup to knock the silver cup toward the edge; hurting his poor finger wasn’t worth it to make such a cheesy point.

“What is our end goal then?” Talks of David and Goliath were fine, but Bilal still hadn’t understood what Brown hoped he’d achieve at the end. “Do we create a new country for the slaves? Force the empire to abolish slavery?”

“That is a good question, and I was just about to get to that point, young man.” Brown nodded in approval. “If we force the empire to abolish slavery, then none of our problems will be solved. The ones who had participated and perpetuated that horrible institution would not be punished, in opposite, they’d be the ones in charge of the process for abolition. Tell me, do you think Algernon would have worked honestly to free you, or would he have attempted to find another way to exploit you? The empire cannot and should not be reformed. In its place shall be a republic, for the people, by the people.”

With his coming to the new world came a new political climate for Brown and he had adjusted his plan for abolition to fit it. Back in the United States he had hoped to kill off slavery by freeing the slaves and forcing the federal government to eventually outlaw it. Of course, Gemeinplatz lacked any sort of democratic institutions that’d allow for such a chance, and Brown himself didn’t like the concept of a monarchy or an empire. He was a man of the Constitution through and through, and he wouldn’t be content with abolition.

The above proposal of Brown was quite a provocative one, even for the freemen. Monarchy was the norm; republics were limited to a few city states who, even then, only limited voting to a wealthy stratum. “But, Mister Brown, we’re all poor here. If there’s to be a republic, then none of us could vote.”

“That’s why I propose that everyone, of adult age and sane mind, should vote.” Brown said something that was, according to the people in the room, more otherworldly than himself. “That’s also the key to another question that you’ve asked: whether we should make a state that’s separate to the freed slaves. I believe that such a circ*mstance would only cause further division and conflict.” He didn’t intend to establish an ethnostate of sorts. “We’d be in constant conflict with whatever remained of the empire. In such a scenario, either all the slaves get massacred or the people of the empire get massacred. Either way ends in massacre, and I hope that you’ll agree that such a thing is a disagreeable outcome.”

Indeed, ‘massacre’ wasn’t exactly a thing that anybody in the room wanted. Still, there was one burning question. “But the lightskins wouldn’t want to join in an uprising of darkskins.”

“That is why, young Bilal, we have to get their support by liberating them too.” He approached Shinasi, the only other man with white skin in the room, and presented him to the audience. “Do you think that the peasants, breaking their backs in the fields, are content with their lords? Would they not join us to overthrow their own masters? Of course, that is not as easy as it sounds. But, if it works…” he, with a swift slap, knocked the silver cup off of the table. It clanged loudly when it hit the floor. “…we’ll have an inextinguishable fire on our hands.”

Brown thought of the white Southern working class, who were about as racist as their upper-class. Being on the lower end of the social ladder ended up making them cling to ideas of racial supremacy with greater zeal than the landowning slavers, just so that they could feel a sense of supremacy. He hadn’t gotten the details on the American Civil War that Jacob had mentioned, but the common sense of warfare dictated that those who had died on the frontlines to preserve slavery must have been the common men of the South who didn’t own any slaves. He was sure that the lords here would attempt a similar thing, and that their subjects would be agitated and levied toward the slaves.

Still, things weren’t too bleak, or Brown thought so anyways. The common man followed their superiors, in this case being the lords. With their lords gone, Brown hoped that the peasants could be educated to see the error of their ways. Perhaps this was idealistic, too idealistic even, but Brown hadn’t gotten this far with pessimism. He wanted to die trying, not live idling, and he was sure that the Almighty would see him through to the bitter or sweet end that He had prepared for him.

The people in the room had stayed quiet since the silver cup dropped. They seemed to be in deep thought; joining such a fight wasn’t a decision to be taken lightly. Fleeing to Zon’guldac was the safer and easier option, joining such a seemingly impossible revolution was risky and hard. However, Brown’s fervor in speech and the way he seemed sure about victory had inspired others in the room.

Perhaps a revolution wasn’t impossible; thinking that it wasn’t impossible was the first step in making it possible. Brown had sowed seeds of doubt, and he hoped that he’d reap a whirlwind of uprising. He ended the silence in the dining hall. “I can see that you all need to have some time to think. Providence guides us in our every step, but our Maker has also given mankind the ability to distinguish, choose and do right… or wrong. Think, debate, decide, and I’m sure that the Holy Spirit will guide you toward the right decision.”

With this, Brown stopped his speech. He’d hear their decision when the council would gather again.

Chapter 27: Chapter XXIV – The aftermath is come.

Chapter Text

It was the night of the day that the freemen had held their council. The debate had raged on for a long, long time, after they had dissolved. So much so that no other work had been done for the day, except for some slaves making preparations to depart to Zon’guldac.

Far away from all this worry was Ayomide and Ekene, intending to take a soak in the mansion’s bath. One of the things that Brown insisted they bring along was soap; Ayomide could now see why. The old man had been worried about the spread of disease within their ranks, and had taken special care to direct the newly freed men toward the bath. They happily obliged, taking a hot bath was something that no one would object to.

Ekene witnessed Ayomide’s less-than human features when she removed the bear fur that served as her cloak. “You one of those demi-humans?” The girl approached Ayomide, clearly intending to more closely observe her tail.

“Indeed I am. Is that a problem?” Ayomide instinctively took a few steps back. Personal space, please.

“No, no. I’ve just never seen one. Never left this mansion, you know.” Ekene breathed a sigh of relief. At least she could leave now. “I want to see all kinds of demi-humans and whatnot when I get to leave.” She was smiling as the thought of all the sights that she might see out there in the larger world.

“Travelling isn’t that easy, sister. The adventurers will hunt us down.” She took her first step into the water as she talked “You better stick with us Brown folk.”

Ekene joined Ayomide. She went silent for a few seconds to fully enjoy the water. “…but ain’t that man a bit insane? He’s talking about freeing everyone and toppling the big emperor man himself.” In a world where hierarchy and monarchy were the norm, thinking of an egalitarian society did indeed seem like the fever dream of a deranged lunatic.

“I think he is.” Ayomide closed her eyes. “Sister, you should just stick with a group if you want to increase your chance to survive. You don’t have to follow him to your grave. I certainly don’t intend to.”

Ekene raised her brow. Something seemed off with Ayomide’s statement just now. “You were giving all those fervent speeches about ‘liberty or death’. Were all those lies?”

“No, I’m was not lying about that. I do think that we’ll either live free or die.” She looked at a far away distance, toward particularly nothing. “But that’s our fate, isn’t it? Most either leave to Zon’guldac, to a faraway place that they know nothing about, or they die while reaching there. In our case, we’re either going to free ourselves in Gemeinplatz or find ourselves dead. This fact has nothing to do with the old man.”

Ekene took one of the bars of soap from a corner, and began rinsing herself. “And all the other stuff about dehmokrasee?”

Ayomide seriously thought of this question for a while. “…I don’t know.” This was her honest answer. “I’m not exactly a philosopher or one of those political theorists. I don't really care whether the lightskins get to live under a better Gemeinplatz. Most of them can all go to an Otherworld, for all I care.” Having been enslaved hadn’t left much empathy in Ayomide, or any of the other slaves for that matter. “Still, the old man delivers on the emancipation front, and that’s all I, and you, should care about for now. We can all bail out if he goes too crazy on the other stuff.”

“I guess. I don’t even know how I could reach Zon’guldac in the first place.” Ekene handed her soap over to Ayomide. “Could you wash my back please? I can’t reach there.”

“No problem.” Ekene turned around to let Ayomide reach her back. Ayomide recoiled when she saw the whip scars, some new some old, scattered around her back. They all looked like deep canyons of torn flesh, an unpleasant image of cruelty that said a thousand words in itself. “Holy… This is all Algernon?”

“Yes.” Ekene remembered Ayomide healing Hakim’s injured leg. “Can you do something about them with your magic?”

Ayomide shook her head, even though Ekene couldn’t see it. “I can’t heal scars, unfortunately. That's really advanced stuff that white-bearded hermits do.” She began doing her best to rinse Ekene’s back, trying to avoid the scars. Ekene still winced as soap made contact with her. “…What a bastard.”

“Well, I don’t think he was too cruel, compared to other masters I’ve heard about.” Ekene didn’t want to go into further detail about other horrors, so she fell silent after making this remark.

“Not to mention, thousands of masters live in Gemeinplatz...” Her and Ekene’s horrors were only a miniscule part of the horrors that the entire institution of slavery brought. “And Brown always talks about how merciful his all-powerful god supposedly is. Not to mention the guys over at the Temple of the Divine, they’ve always annoyed me.”

“…but doesn’t his god also allow him to emancipate the enslaved?” Ekene asked a question that irked Ayomide, but she wasn’t in the mood for needless theological debate. She didn’t mind what Brown thought as long as he wasn’t thinking anything malevolent. Ekene had another question. “Also, what’s this ‘Temple of the Divine’?”

Ayomide was surprised at the fact that Ekene was so sheltered. “I don’t really know, ssince Jacob never allowed us in to their sermons.” Most otherworlders tended to be irreligious, especially those from East Asia, so attendance among them was very low. “Apparently, they’re guys who believe in a divine force that rules over the universe, pretty similar to Brown’s religion. Pretty big deal in Gemeinplatz, far as I know. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of them.”

“Ah…” Ekene suddenly understood something that had bugged her for a long time. “I’ve always seen an old, clergyman visit Algernon once in a while. He muttered something about ‘salvation’ or whatnot, but he didn’t like to interact with the slaves too much.”

“Then he’s from the Temple. They came around now and then to ask Jacob for donations.” She stood back as she had finished cleaning the back of Ekene. “I scratch your back, you scratch mine?” She handed the soap over to her companion.

“Sure, o’ majestic Lady Orange. Your faithful servant shall do her best to clean your precious back.” Ayomide couldn’t help but laugh; it seems that Hakim and Tater had already spread her reputation. A former slave serving another former slave in such a manner seemed so funny to both.

“Commence, peasant. Suitably rinse my back or else your back shalt be unsuitably rinsed. The Lord sayeth thusly.”

“Aw, man…” Shinasi heaved a deep sigh, staring into the deep, dark unknown of the mountains. He was on guard duty, just like he had been before. Brown had chosen him as to not look suspicious to any passersby.

There wasn’t anything stirring in the unknown beyond, so poor Shinasi had been left alone with his thoughts. He had joined Brown, on a sort of whim, partly for ideological reasons, and mostly for the sake of love that he hadn’t fully confessed even to himself. He considered just running back to Azdavay, he still could, but he also equally didn’t want to return.

The behavior of Algernon had steeled his resolve somewhat, but hesitation was a beast that was greater than any fantastic creature Gemeinplatz could throw at him. He wasn’t a slave, he was a freeman that still had the potential to pull himself up by the bootstraps, or so his inner voice told him. But, would he be fulfilled if he did pull himself up, stomping on others on the way? Or did he want to throw the bootstraps away and forge a new path that was full of uncertainty?

“Hey.” A voice from behind startled Shinasi. He turned around, shield up and spear ready to go, only to meet a person that spelled trouble for his troubled heart.

“O- Oh, Ayomide. It’s you.” He put his shield down, literally, and put another shield up, figuratively. “Please, don’t arrive so suddenly. I’m on watch and alert; I wouldn’t want to injure an ally.”

“Right, I’m an ally now am I, Mr. Bounty Hunter.” Ayomide approached him further. The woman that had saved him, and in most unacceptable fashion according to Gemeinplatzian society, poor Shinasi had sort of fallen for. “How’s your watch going? Any fugitives?”

“There’s a whole camp of them behind me.” Shinasi nodded toward the mansion. “Not to mention the errant one in front of me right now. I don’t know what to do when odds are so stacked against me.” He had learned to play along with Ayomide.

Ayomide replied by laughing. “I see. You must have your work cut out for you then. Poor Shinasi… You’re such a bad guard that you let a whole slave rebellion into the estate!” She stopped to go back to what she intended to talk about when she had arrived at the scene. “Anyways, I heard that you were looking for someone.”

“Hm?!” Shinasi couldn’t help but shout. He was worried that the conversation might steer to that point, and he looked visibly flustered. “Um, I-”

“And I was so worried for my dear adventurer friend, he might lose his job if he fails his quest. That wouldn’t do, would it?” Ayomide shook her head to emphasize her point. She was visibly smirking. “Don’t worry, I’ve found the one your query was about.” Ayomide took out the red ribbon she had been keeping. “I’ll deliver it to her whenever I have the opportunity.”

Shinasi only got even more flustered as the conversation went on. ‘Deliver it to her whenever I have the opportunity’? What’s she trying to imply there? He took a good luck at Ayomide in his heart-thumping state. Women in Gemeinplatz had long hair; Ayomide always cut it short. The most beautiful of hairs were considered to be blond; she had an odd ginger color. The ideal for any person was skin that was indistinguishable from porcelain; hers was undistinguishable from the night. Yet…

Ayomide suddenly interrupted Shinasi. “Ahem, aside from that…” It was her time to get serious, and nervous. She shook around nervously, gaze averted from Shinasi, as she hid the ribbon behind her back. Speaking seriously, from the heart, was hard business for anyone as young as her. “You did a good job, some of us might have died if you hadn’t found when your buddies had a holiday.” She remembered the scarred back of her new sister, Ekene. “A lot of people are now free, with your help. Uhm… thank you.” She had to force herself to say the last part. “…you’re not too horrible, I guess.”

“I- I’m…” Shinasi couldn’t believe the last part. He wasn’t sure if he might’ve misheard. “I’m what? Could you repeat the last part?”

“I said that you’re not too horrible!” Ayomide’s composure was now broken. She quickly began taking a few steps back. Being honest was a bit too much. “Good night to you!” She ran away, back towards the mansion.

Shinasi stared, slack-jawed, at the quickly retreating Ayomide. He had been at that position a while ago. I guess she can get nervous as well… He scratched his head, and couldn’t help but dryly laugh out of stress. His heart was beating so fast that he could faint right at this moment.

I’m not seeing visions, right? I took care not to drink too much before my shift…

Chapter 28: Chapter XXV – The reaction is come.

Chapter Text

2^nd of Summer, 5859
Former Estate of Sir Algernon (new name still pending), Azdavay / Casamonu

Lady Leila was resting in her bedroom, reading a book about the wonders that laid on Earth. She was softly rocking back on forth on a chair, cozying herself by the fireside.

Today was not a good day.

She had woken up this morning, in hopes that maybe the whole slave uprising was just a nightmare, but the former miners marching up and down the garden leisurely had ridden her of that notion. All of yesterday’s executions were real, her husband’s death was real, and her current troubled predicament was also very much real.

Any moment, she thought, the band of savages that lay outside could end her life. Perhaps death would be the better alternative. She didn’t exactly know what to do after being widowed so suddenly, left with two (plus one) children. Leila had no choice but return to the Earlywatch family she originated from, if she could survive that is.

Suddenly, a knock came from her door, distracting her from all the doom and gloom. “Are you in here, Leila?” Leila didn’t answer, but her visitor rudely entered the room anyways. Her visitor was a demi-human, a darkskin, and her informal manner of address would have gotten her something worse than the whip anywhere in Gemeinplatz.

“I’m apparently supposed to take care of you, since Ekene and Ejike didn’t want to do it.” Ayomide didn’t seem too pleased with her assignment. She wasn’t that willing to return to duties related to masters or mistresses, nobody else was willing, hence why Ayomide had been the one left to take on this job. “Here, your food.” She left a loaf of bread, made from shepherd’s reed flour. Hakim hadn’t gotten around to sorting through the mansion’s pantry yet, and this was the best that they had.

Leila blankly stared at, what could hardly be called, the piece of food dropped in front of her. “So… are you planning to kill me or?” She didn’t expect much from what she saw as a bunch of uneducated, uppity children.

“No, Brown was quite worked up about ‘the Lord’s mercy, Jesus Christ, think of the children and so on and so forth’. The rest of the freemen don’t seem enthusiastic about hanging you either, you know, with the whole children thing.” Ayomide clapped sarcastically. “Good job. You get to live another day.”

“Eh?” This surprised the former mistress more than the uprising itself. The last thing she was expecting was any form of mercy. “What are you going to do with me then?”

“You’re our prisoner, until you’re ransomed off. You come from a noble family, right? They must have quite the load of spare money.” Ayomide looked around the room, finding suitable quill and paper on a desk. She put them in front of Leila and continued with an air of formality, as if she was conducting legitimate business. “We hope that you’ll be able to provide us with suitable funds. Also, write your letter with Awmereighkan letters. Brown will be checking what you’ve written to make sure you’re keeping your part of the deal.”

Leila was pretty sure that a deal required two consenting parties, but she also was pretty sure one couldn’t object to being ransomed. “…Understood.” She at least wanted to do her best to keep what had remained of her family alive.

The ex-mistress took the quill, and began writing her own letter for ransom.

It was another foggy, rainy summer day in Casamonu, but no matter the weather, the wheels of business needed to turn no matter what. Industry in Casamonu was always hungry for ‘brown gold’, so caravans were almost always making their way up from the city to the mountains. Today too, a group of porters from Casamonu aided by pack animals and adventurers made their way to the Mount Curry in order to buy copper. Their group wasn’t too big; the tight mountain path was impossible to navigate with a large group.

One of their first stops was the Algernon Estate, a major producer of copper. Thanks to his abundant copper, caravans would often find what they were looking for at a good price there. Much to their dismay, however, they were greeted by a guard in front of the estate. The head of the caravan hailed the guard at the gate.

“Sorry, but we’ve got quite the plague going on in here, and those slaves refuse to work. No copper left in storage, either.” Shinasi was wearing a cloth mask to emphasize his point of there being a plague.

“What? That’s preposterous. I’d like to see your manager, young man!” The head of the caravan didn’t seem too pleased at missing his cheap copper.

“Sir Algernon himself is currently too sick to meet you. I think, sir, it’s better that you avoid going in lest you catch this awful plague yourself.” Shinasi took out a letter from his pocket, along with a few groschen. “His wife wants to send her family back home a letter. Sir Algernon would be quite pleased if you could help the letter find its way.”

The head of the caravan calmed down. He didn’t want to fall ill either, so he had no choice but to oblige in not entering the estate. He took the letter and money from Shinasi; sending letters through passing caravans wasn’t too uncommon up in the isolated mountains. “Good day to you, then.”

“Good day to you too, sir.” Shinasi watched as the caravan disappeared off into the fog.

Back at the estate, Brown was busy with convening the council again. “Gather around, no pushing.” Today would be the day of decision. The crowd was smaller compared to yesterday, around twenty people had decided to make way for Zon’guldac. Perhaps a couple more would make their way in the following days. Still, Brown was pleased to see that around thirty people remained.

“I hereby officially… you know what, there’s no need for formalities. We need action, not words. We have had more than enough speech already, I’d say.” John Brown put his hands on the dining table where everyone had gathered. He took a good look at all the freemen once more. “Ladies and gentlemen, with the Almighty as our witness, are ye ready to fight for the freedom of your brothers and sisters in bondage?”

Most of the people had stayed here to answer just that. There wasn’t much need for an answer, but some of the more creative freemen had prepared one that was concise. Bilal rose up from his chair, and delivered a curious item to the table: a copper spear head.

“The are some kilns in this estate; we’ve mostly turned copper into bars for easier transport, until now.” He pushed the spear head toward Brown, who picked it up and raised it in front of his eyes to take a proper look. Its construction was pretty crude, with juts and imperfections everywhere, not surprising considering that it had been only made in the one-day period after the slaves’ liberation. “We hope to continue developing ways which we can deliver copper in a faster and more efficient manner to a wider base of customers.” He made the motion of throwing a spear.

“May God bless you, what sweet words you lend to my ears today!” Brown laughed as he patted Bilal on the back. “Witty remarks, and a will to back them up, the way a man should be. Mister Bilal, was it? And your comrades here.” There was hope, even in a realm so foreign to Brown. Humanity, in its nature, seemed the same no matter were. “I’m afraid that the road ahead for our business will be rough, arduous, even boring to some extent. But, with Providence shining down with utmost grace upon us sinners, we shall pull through. Now, as I’ve promised, no more talk. Let us get to action!”

4^th of Summer, 5859
Earlywatch Estate, Outskirts of Casamonu

Within the outskirts near any large settlement lay the estates of the noble sort, and Casamonu was no exception. From the estate of the Count himself to the lowliest and pettiest (in both senses of the word) estates of various knights and dames, along with the occasional big shot merchant who had found themselves lucky enough to grab some land.

Most of the houses were modeled after buildings on Earth, from grand castles of the Orient to not-so-grand American McMansions, for the nobility paid upmost importance to having otherworlder blood. It was the blood of heroes, kings and sex pests after all. Their blood was bluer than lapis, nobler than any revolting peasant, higher than the Heavens that stood atop them. Thus, they received their higher-than-divine right to rule over all under their shiny new boots they just ordered from overseas.

One particular exception was the Earlywatch family, as can be inferred by their surname, they didn’t trace their lineage to any otherworlders. Sure, they had married other families to acquire some of that blue blood, but they still stood as an exception for having a surname that wasn’t foreign. They prided themselves for being the descendants of the bastard child of a former emperor’s third cousin-thrice-removed instead, which was a greater achievement compared to being descended by some guy from Shandong or whatever.

Despite their claim to great blood however, their estate wasn’t that great compared to others. Their mansion was a small, reasonable one constructed in European (or ‘Yoropean’ as they spelled it) style, a style that was still somewhat in fashion. Its bricks had slowly begun to fade, and a couple shingles on the roof had gone missing without anyone bothering to put them back up. Only a couple peasants attended to the fields around this mansion, slaves were a bit too expensive, not to mention the fact that the owner didn’t want anyone darker than limestone running around his place. This marked an example of the not-quite-uncommon-as-one-might-think phenomenon of ‘being too racist to own slaves’.

The aforementioned owner was one Sir Baha Earlywatch, a knight under Count Leon. He was sitting in his office, slowly checking over droll financial figures that needed cooking. Baha would have loved to give this job to a steward, but he also didn’t trust someone else to handle his property. Maybe he’d have been in a better financial situation if he did.

“Sir.” One of his servants entered the room, letter in hand. He bowed down to greet his lord before continuing to speak. “A letter has arrived, from Lady Leila.” The servant dropped the letter on his desk and promptly left the room.

Sir Baha casually took the letter to his hand. Leila was his sister, they continued to exchange letters even in her absence. I hope it isn’t a letter that’s full of complaints about her husband again… Baha sighed, but he was happy to keep in touch with his sister regardless of her tendency to talk about Algernon’s treatment of the slaves. He should just get rid of his slaves if he dislikes them so much.

Baha couldn’t complain too much about Algernon, openly at least, as Algernon was the cousin of Count Leon. To be honest, he didn’t have much to complain about, Algernon treated Leila decently at the least. He thought that it was lucky that his sister had gotten married to such a close relative of the count, ensuring a secure position for the rest of the Earlywatch household.

The petty knight slowly opened the letter, expecting the usual as detailed above. “Dear brother, I hope that the Divine grants you Its favor and this letter reaches your hands without problem.” Baha smiled upon seeing his sister’s usual greeting. “Unfortunately, I think that Algernon has finally incurred divine wrath and I’m afraid that I’ve been caught in this wrath? Ha!” He couldn’t help but laugh at this expression. She was probably going to talk about some minor inconvenience that had fallen upon the poor man. “The slaves have risen up and…” The letter was getting less funnier the more he read “…have executed Algernon? I’m currently a prisoner…”

Baha re-read the letter a couple more times to make sure that his mind was not playing any tricks on him.

No matter how many times he read it, however, its contents didn’t change.

Chapter 29: Chapter XXVI – The letter is come.

Chapter Text

5^th of Summer, 5859
Casamonu, Empire of Gemeinplatz

An interesting letter had arrived at Sir Leon’s desk today. He calmly read its contents, not sure whether to be happy or frustrated with the news.

“…and, Your Excellency, I implore you to gather your council and help me save my sister and avenge your kinsman as soon as possible. Your most faithful vassal, Sir Baha Earlywatch.” Leon put the letter down, leaning back on his desk to think. He had thought that it was likely for some incident to be arisen due to the fugitives, but he hadn’t thought that such a bold move was possible.

Killing a nobleman, kidnapping his cousin, and occupying a mine? Something afoul must be up, or so thought Leon. The exodus of slaves and this uprising couldn’t have occurred without outside intervention. For all he knew, Leon was facing powers that far surpassed a border count like him.

Right now, greater powers or not, Leon had a situation he had to respond to. He didn’t personally care much about his cousin, Algernon. Sir Algernon was a very far off relative that Leon had barely even seen and, to be honest, he couldn’t care less about the death of one of his many cousins.

What Leon could care about was the killing of a nobleman in his territory, especially one of his kinsmen from the Satō-Wang family. Not to mention the fact that, if news of slaves occupying a mine in his territory got out, then it’d make Leon look weak and incompetent. He definitely didn’t want his reputation being tarnished by a bunch of fugitives. Various guilds in Azdavay had gone bankrupt after the exodus, and merchants in Casamonu itself had expressed concerns about the safety of their jobs. This, everything about these uppity slaves, had to be stopped before it got out of hand.

The survival of the count’s rule preceded the survival of some minor vassal’s sister.

Thankfully, Leon wasn’t an idle or carefree man. The count had calculated that the fugitives might strike back sooner or later. He had been busy politicking and calling in various favors the last month, doing his best to gather a voluntary response team of respected individuals from his county. Thanks to his efforts, Leon wouldn’t have to personally spend a penny outfitting this force.

‘Not spending a penny’ sounded very delightful indeed. Leon patted himself on the back for a job well-done. “Hilmi!” His trustworthy servant came running into the room at Leon’s command. The count took out a small stack of letters and handed it over to the servant. “Send these to the addresses written on them.”

“Understood, Your Excellency.” The servant bowed and took his leave. Leon was smiling at his own genius idea: pre-writing the letters he needed to summon everyone. He had just given the orders to summon the likes of Kim Seong-min and Long Dong. The count didn’t know if all of them would come, he was sure some of them would shirk their responsibilities, but he didn’t need much to retake the mines.

Now all Leon needed to do was patiently wait. Soon, this little insurrection would be crushed at little cost.

5^th of Summer, 5859
Former Estate of Sir Algernon (new name ever pending), Azdavay / Casamonu

“Cemil! You’re too far to the right. Move it… Yes, right there.” Bilal commanded a group of miners from atop an incline. He had been tasked, after having shown his skills as a representative, with leading a group of freemen to strengthen the fortifications around the mine. The first order of business was to construct a trench around the estate to slow enemies down. Digging a simple trench was all too easy for a group of experienced miners. A dozen miners, armed with their shovels and picks, worked around the clock to realize this plan.

Lady Leila gave them precious time to prepare. Brown thought that no one would dare strike while they held a noblewoman hostage. Still, it wasn’t a bad idea to keep the powder dry and have the men ready to fight in case Sir Baha wasn’t willing to cede to their demands. For that purpose, Ayomide and Shinasi had been tasked with imparting their knowledge of combat to the newly recruited freemen. These two squads of miners and fighters worked in shifts, switching personnel every day.

A small group of kiln workers was also tasked with making javelins and other tools from copper, a process that was going slowly. They had previously only worked to refine impure copper ore into bars for easier transportation, meaning that they didn’t have any experience with toolmaking.

Thankfully, copper wasn’t too hard to manipulate and work with. The kiln workers had already managed to copy the makeshift stone spears by pressing them into clay molds. Molten copper could be poured into these molds to create new, better spearheads. Copper by itself wasn’t particularly sharp or strong, but this method was much faster compared to knapping stone. Speed was important when one needed to equip an army of thirty men.

Feeding all of these working men was Hakim and Tater, who worked to forage the forests of Azdavay and Casamonu for food. With the help of the estate’s kitchen, they could work to cook foods that were comfortably edible.

All of the above, however, was interrupted when a visitor came upon the gates of the estate. Riding up the path was a man on a horse, with his hands raised up to show that he was unarmed. From his attire, a one-piece suit and a bowtie, one could see that he was most likely some sort of servant. “I come in the name of my lord, Sir Baha Earlywatch!” He was quickly surrounded by a group of freemen carrying spears.

“Who might you be?” Shinasi, the new gatekeeper of the estate, split apart the sea of people to greet their guest. “Are you here to deliver, or are you here to make empty pleas?”

“I’m here to do both, if that’s possible.” The old servant jumped off his horse. He opened a large bag attached to the saddle, revealing various tools such as hammers and saws, along with a small sum of money. This servant didn’t know why the slaves had such odd requests for ransom, he’d have only requested money if he ever kidnapped a noble. “Think of these as a down payment. My lord will not send the rest unless I get to meet Lady Leila, and her children, in person and confirm that she’s fine.”

“I’ll be escorting you to her.” Shinasi signaled the crowd to stand back. “Don’t try anything reckless or your dear mistress’ life will be forfeit.” The crowd of freemen parted to allow Shinasi and the servant to pass through. The armed freemen followed them afterwards to make sure that the servant couldn’t pull off any dirty magical tricks.

The servant followed Shinasi up to the second floor. There, Shinasi knocked on Leila’s room. “Ayomide, you in there?”

The door unlocked. “Yes, I’ve been stuck in here for the last few hours.” An annoyed Ayomide showed her face. She noticed the servant. “Oh, this must be the ‘Ted’ that the kids have been talking about. Come in, they’re still alive.” She stood right next to Ted, ready to dispel any spells that he might try to cast. Something like teleportation was rare in Gemeinplatz, but one could never be too sure.

Entering the room, Ted was happy to see his mistress and her children to be alive and well. They were in a much better condition than he anticipated. He had expected the freemen to commit unspeakable acts, but Leila seemed as fine as a newly widowed woman reasonably could be. The children seemed to be cheerful, but bored, and mostly ignorant of their situation.

“Ted? Is it Ted?” Ani and Timmy got up to greet this familiar face, while Leila sufficed with meekly waving at him. “Uncle! Are we going back? Father left so suddenly…” They surrounded poor Ted while pestering him with questions. He wasn’t actually their uncle, but he might as well have been.

“Well…” He carefully looked over his shoulder to Ayomide. Ted didn’t exactly know how to convey their situation to the children. He was honestly furious of the fact that he had to negotiate with a bunch of slaves. “You see, he has been suddenly assigned… to assist the emperor. We won’t be seeing him for a while.” The downfall of their father’s death would have to be dealt by Lady Leila. “Your father sold the estate when he left, so we’ll have to go back to living with Uncle Baha. Behave well, okay? He’s currently trying to get your carriages ready for the trip back.”

“Oh… Okay…” The kids seemed sullen at the prospect of Algernon’s sudden assignment. They could feel that there was something much more serious going on, kids are creatures that are much sharper than they might initially seem, but they could also feel that the adults in the room wouldn’t give them clear answers.

“And, mistress.” Ted turned to addressing the woman of the hour. “Have you been doing well? These…” He was about to use an insulting word here, but he retreated upon realization of the fact that he was surrounded by armed slaves. “…slaves, they haven’t done anything horrible, have they?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Leila heaved a deep sigh. “As fine as I can be in… such an unexpected situation.” She herself was still surprised at the fact that no harm had come to her. Nothing else had happened, outside of a couple of verbal attacks whose perpetrators got a large scoop of admonishment from Brown (for it didn’t bode well for one to insult a lady). Ayomide and Brown had protected her from anything graver than the aforementioned.

Ted asked again to confirm her response, and Leila responded in a similar fashion. He was trying to make sure that the mistress wasn’t being forced to downplay the abuse committed by the slaves, but she seemed to genuinely not have had anything done to her. “I’m happy, mistress, to see that you are alive and well.”

“Alright, had enough of your emotional chit-chat?” Ayomide’s arms were getting tired of restraining Ted. “Bring the rest of the goods if you want to have a nice, long chat with her.” With this she pulled Ted out of the room, locking the door behind her.

“As you’ve heard from our own Lady Orange. No recoupment, no reunion.” Shinasi had fit into the role of a ransoming bandit pretty well. He felt oddly proud of this fact, and he also enjoyed the part where he got to indirectly order a nobleman to do something.

Shinasi quickly escorted Ted back to his horse. Their business was done and conducted, for now. “As our old man says, ‘Skedaddle!’.” The freemen watched as the servant disappeared into the horizon.

They knew not what’d arrive next…

“Halt! Who are you?” Shinasi turned around to look at the source of the commotion. There he found an enigmatic black figure clad with a dark shawl and a long dress, who kept a safe distance away from the freemen assembled around her. She was flanked by two figures clad in pitch black robes whose faces were obscured by hoods. Nobody in the crowd could decipher who she was.

“Brothers and sisters, do not be afraid of me.” The one speaking was the enigmatic old woman who, judging from her position, seemed to be the leader of this group. Her face was scowling, not out of anger at anyone present, but out of great perpetual discontent from how mankind treated itself. Her face was wrinkled all over from years of endless fighting, in and out the battlefield. Only a kerchief was present to cover her head.

“I only wish to see old John Brown once more.”

Chapter 30: Chapter XXVII – Bless them which meet you.

Chapter Text

Most that I have done and suffered in the service of our cause has been in public, and I have received much encouragement at every step of the way. You, on the other hand, have labored in a private way. I have wrought in the day, you in the night. I have had the applause of the crowd and the satisfaction that comes of being approved by the multitude, while the most that you have done has been witnessed by a few trembling, scarred, and foot-sore bondmen and women, whom you have led out of the house of bondage, and whose heartfelt "God bless you" has been your only reward. The midnight sky and the silent stars have been the witnesses of your devotion to freedom and of your heroism. Excepting John Brown, of sacred memory, I know of no one who has willingly encountered more perils and hardships to serve our enslaved people than you have.

- Frederick Douglass’ letter to a certain someone (1868)

Old John Brown sat in his new room, the former dining room of the Algernon estate, inspecting what might be the most important item in the entire building: a map detailing Mount Curry and its immediate area. He had found this map while looking around the late Algernon’s office. Other copper mines, farms, villages… All were noted on one gargantuan piece of paper detailing bits of information about these locations. This would be pretty useful for their future expeditions, and Brown had already began constructing further plans in his head.

Ayomide came into the room, carrying two cups of tea. “Old man, you still staring at the paper?” She set one cup down for Brown, and took a sip from the other. Getting something to drink other than slime soup felt heavenly.

“May God bless you, young lady.” Brown accepted Ayomide’s offer for having a tea break. He leaned back on his chair, his old spine making concerning cracks as he did. “I wish we had someone else that could read, but alas.” These sorts of jobs requiring literacy had all been left to Brown. Latin script was pretty commonly used in Gemeinplatz, as Brown had observed in his visit to Azdavay, and items like maps usually had transcriptions in English written under native Gemeinplatzian script.

Ayomide stared at the map with a blank expression. She was unable to read any of the text on it. “Man, I wish I could read.” Knowledge was power; the slaveowners definitely didn’t intend to distribute power to their chattel. “All of these symbols look too complicated to learn. Too many of them.”

“It’s not too complicated, young lady. The English alphabet isn’t, anyways, I don’t know anything about this other writing that they use in this realm.” Brown leaned forward to point at a point on the map that was spelled with an “A”. “For example, this is pronounced as ‘a’. A. There are twenty-five other letters like it, learning them all shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Eigh. Eeeigh.” The odd way that an English speaker like Brown spelt ‘A’ didn’t help Ayomide much in understanding anything. “Eigh? Which place has a name beginning with eigh?”

“Azdaweigh. The town that we had visited, young lady.” Even if the local language had been somehow beamed into his mind, Brown wasn’t adept at pronunciation.

“That’s pronounced Az-da-vay. Not Eigh-zee-da-weeigh, whatever that’s supposed to be.” Ayomide took another look at the letter ‘A’. “I’m guessing that this is supposed to be pronounced more like ‘[aː]’ not ‘[ˈeɪ]’. We’re not in Awmereighka, old man. Nobody here pronounces anything like that.”

“Is that so…” Pronunciation was a battle that was fiercer than any battles Brown had in Kansas. Even with divine intervention, it seemed, he wouldn’t be able to stop pronouncing “A” differently. “Oh Lord, guide me in pronunciation.” He took a sip out of his tea to calm himself down. “No matter my pronunciation, I plan on getting to teach everyone how to read and write eventually.” Currently, the former Algernon estate was operating in a mode of full mobilization which left no time for A's, B's and C's.

Literacy would have to come after they were sure that they could defend this place, or organize an orderly retreat if they couldn’t. Realistically, Brown thought, they had to retreat from the estate. He didn’t plan on staying here for long anyways, guerilla warfare like the one he planned to conduct involved not having any known place that the enemy could assault. Staying immobile in a known location was the worst case scenario. Still, before the local forces could mobilize to meet him, Brown planned on using the estate as much as he could before their inevitable retreat.

“Mister Brown, hello? Anybody there?” Ayomide waved her hand in front of Brown, who had spaced out while thinking of future plans.

“Sorry, young lady. I was just following a train of thought that happened to pass by.” Brown took a deep breath. The future was the future; the present was the present. He needed to focus on what was in front of him right now. “I think it’d be best if I trained someone to be a teacher, someone who has decent command of this realm’s language.”

“Guess I can do that. I don’t mind learning how to read and write. I could teach the rest.” Her time in the service industry as a waitress had already given Ayomide a decent grasp of Gemeinplatzian language. Learning to read and write didn’t seem to be too daunting of a task: memorizing twenty-six letters wasn’t exactly the hardest thing in the world.

“Great, young lady.” Brown seemed pleased at her willingness to learn the ABCs. “Then… Let us begin right now, if you are not occupied.” He grabbed an errant sheet of empty paper, and intended to write some letters on it, before he was interrupted by a knock on the door. “…Or not. Come in, we’re not busy.”

A small group entered the office, which was a lot more than Brown had expected from a single knock. This group of freemen was armed with spears, and they surrounded a smaller group of three people.

Brown was about to ask what the meaning of their visit was, but he immediately stopped once he realized the existence of a certain old woman among the ranks of the smaller group. The old man rubbed his eyes two or three, trying to make sure that he wasn’t seeing some sort of illusion. The familiar figure still stood in front of him, as real as anything else in the room.

“Praise be to the Lord, is that…” Brown rose up from his chair to show respect. “…is that really you? I had heard about one ‘Miss Moses’, but I thought that it was impossible for it to be you!”

“As real as you are, Brown.” The old woman slowly walked toward Brown. “I knew that you were not the type of man to lay calmly, moldering in a grave.”

The crowd of freemen looked at each other, confused as to what connection these two people might have. Bilal stepped forward to voice their concerns. “Who’s this woman, Mister Brown?”

“Right. You probably haven’t been acquainted.” Brown stepped aside to present an old friend to the people in the room. “I bring you one of the best and bravest persons on the American continent and on this realm: General Tubman as we called her.”

“Harriet Tubman. Former conductor on the Underground Railroad and…” Tubman walked toward the two people she had brought along with her. “…current conductor of the League of Canaanites.”

“So those queer hooded figures talking about ‘Miss Moses’…” Brown definitely remembered seeing the same sort of dark, hooded people back in his flight from Azdavay. “…they were your men?” His smile widened greatly. “It seems that General Tubman has outshone us once again.” None of the men in the room, except for Brown and the men of the league, had ever seen Tubman. They weren’t sure as to what Brown was alluding to by “once again”.

“It is only by the grace of God that we’ve been able to get so far, Brown. So far back in America, and so far here in Gemeinplatz. The Lord hasn’t deserted us in any trouble.” Tubman didn’t forget to add an obligatory dose of Christian humility.

“Indeed, let us not forget that.” Brown added a few more words of praise to the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit before continuing. The freemen watched while these otherworlders participated in this odd ritual. Ayomide yawned; she had seen this same thing play out far too many times whenever the old man achieved something. “…Now then, General Tubman, please sit down. Join me for some tea, and let us talk of business as usual.”

“That’d be nice, yes.” Harriet took a seat, along with her hooded comrades, and the crowd of curious onlookers dispersed. They weren’t exactly interested in eavesdropping on a conversation between two close comrades, not to mention the fact that they had actual work to do.

Ayomide soon came back with a fresh cup of tea for her new sister. “Here you go, Miss Tubman.” She took a few steps back to properly introduce herself to this friend of John Brown. “I’m Ayomide from Azdavay.” She instinctively ended up performing a curtsy, an act that was still engrained within her from the maid café. Ayomide was under mind-control at that time, of course, but her body still remembered how she had been moved.

“Oh, what a nice young lady you are.” Tubman was a bit surprised at how refined Ayomide seemed. Her wearing clothes ‘borrowed’ from Sir Algernon, Lady Leila’s clothes were a tad bit large for her, made her look like she was supposed to be the owner of the estate they were standing on. A silk waistcoat and pants (Brown was shocked when he learned of the fact that woman wearing pants was common in Gemeinplatz) made Ayomide look uncomfortably sharp for her own tastes.

“Thank you, mistres- Ahem, Miss Tubman.” Ayomide had to stop herself from being overly formal. Her gaze shifted toward the strange hooded figures who had been standing quietly, watching them while they had been proceeding with the introductions. “…So, who are these people?” Ayomide pointed at the strangers.

“Oh, they?” Tubman turned around to meet her followers. “Come on, we’re with our allies. I don’t need to tell you to uncloak.”

The figure on the right took off her hood, revealing a face that Brown and Ayomide had ended up making themselves familiar with. “Sorry. Just a force of habit.” It was Kyauta. “Though, I don’t think introductions are necessary for me.”

Yes, I’ve been all to closely acquainted with you and your knife, thought Ayomide.

Brown knew Kyauta too, though not as closely as Ayomide, for she was a character that he had met in the first chapter of his life in this new realm. “Glad to see that the Holy Spirit guided you to safety and good company.”

“Indeed, I have been guided to a good place.” Kyauta, having stopped being in mission mode, found herself a chair to sit down and relax. “Vaiz, I believe it’s your turn.”

“Right! Right, it’s my turn.” The other figure who revealed himself was a young man. He looked out of place in this gathering of freed slaves, with his skin colored like fresh milk that had been left in the sun for too long. His eyes were crystal blue, like a clear river under daylight, and his locks had color that wouldn’t be off on the bark of a tree. His teeth were mostly intact, which was pretty rare in a land like Gemeinplatz where dentists were as common as unicorns on Mars.

“I’m Vaiz, priest… or former priest of the Temple of the Divine. Peace be upon ye.” Vaiz acted timidly in his introduction, and his appearance was one of a young man from a well-off family who hadn’t seen much of the world yet. “They kicked me out when I tried to teach The Hallow Word to demi-humans, you see. The people of Casamonu didn’t take kindly to me doing that…”

“A priest?” Brown hadn’t been able to gather much information about religion in Gemeinplatz. He had no qualms working together with anyone of good character who professed abolitionism, regardless of creed. A younger Brown would have began arguing with this man over doctrine, an older Brown still planned to do so later in their free time, but with age had come wisdom as to when argument and debate was appropriate.

“Y-Yes, sir.” Vaiz took off the rest of the black robes to reveal the white robe of a priest. He took out a small skullcap from his pockets and put it on to complete his hallow outfit. “With Divine guidance, I intend to right the heretical doctrine of the Temple barring our darkskin and demi-human siblings from seeing the light.”

Vaiz seemed to gain a whole lot more fervor at the last part of his speech, casting off this timidness. Thus began, unbeknownst to many, a grand schism and reformation within the Temple of the Divine.

Note: The "certain someone" mentioned in the beginning quote is Harriet Tubman. So, who's this Harriet Tubman that Brown's so acquainted with?

Harriet Tubman (born in the March of 1822) was an American abolitionist who began her life as a slave in Maryland. She was, like all the other slaves, abused greatly by her master and the overseer, and after having a heavy metal weight thrown at her head, Tubman began experiencing hypersomnia and strange visions that she thought were premonitions from God. As once can guess, direct communication from the Lord lead her to being deeply religious. She escaped in 1849, returning afterwards to rescue the rest of her family from enslavement. Tubman didn't stop with her family though, she continued to liberate slaves (around 70 of them) from the South and lead them to freedom in the North (either in the free states or slavery-free Canada). Her acts in freeing the enslaved made her come to be known as "Moses", in comparison to a particular prophet who lead the Israelites out of slavery.

"I bring you one of the best and bravest persons on this continent — General Tubman as we call her."
- John Brown introducing Harriet Tubman to Wendell Phillips.

Tubman and Brown were acquainted in the April of 1858. She herself hadn't participated in violent action like Brown, but she agreed with his plan of action for the Raid on Harper's Ferry. Tubman agreed with helping Brown in terms of intelligence (as she had oft trodden the states between the North and South) and recruitment of the formerly enslaved for his planned rebellion. Unfortunately, Harriet Tubman wasn't present when the raid finally launched. There are several different theories put forward by historians as to why she might have been absent, some think she might have been going through a bout of illness due to her head injury, some say that she might have been busy recruiting even more people for Brown elsewhere. Tubman was illiterate, meaning that there are no records written by her.

After Brown's death and the beginning of the American Civil War, Tubman worked for the Union Army as a scout and a spy. She lead the Raid on Combahee Ferry, an expedition of 150 black troops, freeing another 700-800 slaves.

"Colonel Montgomery and his gallant band of 300 black soldiers under the guidance of a black woman, dashed into the enemy's country, struck a bold and effective blow, destroying millions of dollars worth of commissary stores, cotton and lordly dwellings, and striking terror into the heart of rebeldom, brought off nearly 800 slaves and thousands of dollars worth of property, without losing a man or receiving a scratch. It was a glorious consummation.... The colonel was followed by a speech from the black woman who led the raid and under whose inspiration it was originated and conducted. For sound sense and real native eloquence her address would do honor to any man, and it created a great sensation." - A contemporary newspaper reporting on the raid.

For her service, Tubman was never given a proper salary or any other form of compensation (can you guess why? It starts with "race" and ends with "ism"). She was in constant poverty for the rest of her life. She was able to scrape by, thanks to working various jobs and receiving support from her supporters. Only in 1899 did Congress approve to give her 20$/month (8$ from her pension and 12$ for her service as a nurse), though her job as a scout and spy in the army wasn't acknowledged. Tubman passed from pneumonia in 1913 (her last words being "I go to prepare a place for you"), penniless, surrounded by friends and family.

Chapter 31: Chapter XXVIII – Bless them which inform you.

Chapter Text

With their introductions to Brown done, Kyauta and Vaiz left the room to find accommodate themselves with the rest of the freemen, and to also make arrangements for their accommodation. Ayomide went out to help them, leaving the old acquaintances Brown and Tubman alone to catch up.

The two abolitionists sat across each other, with tea on the table to fuel discussion. Brown began, after putting down his cup and clearing his throat, their catching-up. “So… General Tubman. We haven’t seen each other for a long time.” Brown was a gentleman, not of the snobby noble kind but of the learned kind, who always made sure to have an air of humble formality. “We last met… I believe somewhere in the spring of 1858.”

“Yes, before you went on your divine mission to free the slaves.” It felt odd, for Tubman, to be talking about time. “I’ve seen the Lord, Mister Brown, and He has told me that we’d surely meet again. I thought that He was referring to Heaven, but…” She looked once more again at Brown, in disbelief. “God’s plan is mysterious as it is grand.

“Indeed, it is.” Brown did hold hope in his heart that he’d finally get to pass on to the afterlife after his mission on Gemeinplatz was done. He missed his family, whom most had already gained admission the Pearly Gates. “I assume that there was good reason for the absence of General Tubman at Harper’s Ferry?” He slowly shifted the topic to a sensitive question that had been bugging his mind since his capture at Harper’s Ferry.

“You have done more in dying than a hundred men would do in living. I wouldn’t have been absent if I could have helped.” Tubman took a sip out the tea to ready herself for the next part. “Truth is, I can’t recall much of that time. All I remember is a vision, of a wilderness. There, a serpent raised its head amongst the rocks there. Its head was that of an old man with a long white beard, looking at me wishfully. Two heads rose up, younger than he. A great crowd of men rushed to strike down the young heads, followed by the old one. I didn’t get what this meant, until I heard news of your capture and the death of your sons.”

Brown wasn’t, despite what might one initially assume, the type to seek signs and fall into superstition. Even then, he couldn’t ignore such clear symbolism. “A snake… I remember another too, in Maryland when we were setting up the house for the raid. Annie, my daughter, she and I were sitting one afternoon when we saw two wrens at the door.”

“I approached the birds and their nest, only to find a snake poised to attack the bird’s young. I killed the snake, to protect the nest, and I thought of it to be an omen of success in our upcoming fight for the slaves.” Brown thought of the snake as having represented the evils of slavery, soon to be crushed before it could inflict further damage upon the innocent. It seemed, however, that the snake had been the one to bite him in America.

Tubman had another idea. “And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up.” She quoted a relevant passage from the Gospel of John (3:14 to be exact). Tubman thought that, like the Savior, Brown had found salvation in his death. They had another chance to right what was wrong, this time in another world. “I think it is clear what the Lord intends.”

Brown fell silent. He had already decided that his journey to another world was a divine mission, on the first day he arrived in Gemeinplatz in fact. These revelations didn’t do anything but further steel his resolve. “I have had no doubt about that, General Tubman. Faith is dead without works; we shall strive to work wherever we are.”

“That’s the spirit, God bless you. It’s good to see that old John Brown ain’t dead.” Tubman had been worried about the mental and spiritual state of Brown, considering how she herself had a hard time adjusting after being thrust into a foreign land.

“Speaking of dying, how did America fare after I left it?” Brown had wanted to learn more about this from Jacob, but the old man had rudely cut their conversation (and Jacob’s neck) short. “I heard, from Sir Jacob who you might know, that there has been a civil war of some sort, and that the Northerners won.”

“Ah, yes. I was intending to get there.” Tubman rocked back and forth on her chair as she reminisced what had happened a while ago for her. “As I’ve said, you did what many couldn’t by dying. Those ‘masters’ in the South were pretty afraid of a thousand more John Browns springing up and inciting rebellion in their lands. Eventually, after the election of a president who opposed the expansion of slavery, the Southern states decided that they’d band together and secede rather than let the African be free.”

“In my younger days, I had vainly thought that emancipation could be achieved without much bloodshed.” Brown couldn’t help but heave a deep sigh in reaction to the stubbornness and cruelty of his countrymen. “The fact that the Lord hasn’t cracked the earth under us is only a sign of His mercy.”

“Amen.” Tubman couldn’t help but agree, she herself wasn’t sure how God hadn’t lost His patience during the American Civil War. “Hundreds of thousands bled, to keep the Union intact. It was like Armageddon came to America. I fought there too, and in the end we did end up winning the war over the Confederacy, but not the war over liberation.”

“You didn’t win the war over liberation?” Brown was so shocked that he slammed the tea cup on the table. “What happened? Was slavery not abolished after all that bloodshed?” He was about to start preaching about eternal damnation if that was the case.

“You see, the old form of slavery was abolished. By a new amendment, in fact.” Tubman paused a bit, trying her best to remember it. “Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime where the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.” Tubman simply quoted the Thirteenth Amendment, not adding any further commentary.

“…except as a punishment for crime where the party shall have been duly convicted?” Brown could guess where this was going. “This makes the abolishment of slavery useless if states can hand out arbitrary punishments to put the freemen back into bondage!” Tubman didn’t respond; Brown understood that his guess was correct. “Oh, may God save our souls…”

Brown looked the most troubled he had been since he had arrived in Gemeinplatz. Even the bear attack hadn’t angered him this much, for a bear attacking was a part of its nature while humanity could choose a better way. “So, hundreds of thousands died, only for…” He couldn’t continue. It was too much for him.

John Brown wept, for there were no more ferries to raid.

Brown wanted to burn down the entirety of Congress, unfortunately for the millions in bondage but fortunately for the job security of congressmen, he was currently not in America. He’d have probably burnt down the rest of the country in righteous fury if he learned that the Thirteenth Amendment still worked the same way in the 21^st century.

“Excuse me, General Tubman.” Brown got up from his seat. He wiped a few of his own tears with his hands. “I- I need a moment to calm down and pray to the Almighty.”

“No problem, Mister Brown.” Tubman got up as well. She also needed a moment of prayer.

The old man stormed out the room, determined to not let reconstruction in Gemeinplatz not go the way it did in America.

6^th of Summer, 5859
Casamonu, Empire of Gemeinplatz

Kim Seong-min was back at the Count Leon’s mansion, though he hadn’t planned on being back here so soon. His sister Do-Yun sat beside him while they watched the summoned people fill the grand hall, the siblings surrounded by the mercenaries Kim had brought over from Korea. The count’s summon had reached far and wide, and the high-ups of the duchy had made sure to answer the call swiftly in hopes of currying favor from their liege.

Kim was introducing the newcomers to his sister as they came. “This one’s… he’s the son of some local merchant. I don’t remember his name.” He wanted his sister to be ready to take over the company in case of an emergency, or at least help out with his work in the future. Do-Yun wasn’t interested in politicking, but she was interested in court intrigue.

“Oh, he fits the role of a nameless background character perfectly!” commented Do-Yun. The merchant’s son probably would have a few objections about that if he could understand the Korean language. “And who are those… Chinese guys?” Do-Yun’s eyes followed a group of newly arrived men in white robes.

Upon the mention of the Chinese, Kim became a whole lot more dismissive and his mood suddenly got a whole lot worse. “They’re just the cultivating loonies of Long Dong’s sect.” It had been a while since he had seen Dong’s men. “Apparently he went out of isolation after hearing the count’s summon.” He kept a close eye on the sect members, who were standing around and talking to others in the hall. Kim had a bad feeling about what Dong might be planning.

“Make way for the Pavise Hero, Iwagaya Takafumi!” Kim’s thoughts of suspicion were interrupted by the pompous entrance of one Japanese man, with an iconic pavise attached to his shoulder, and his harem of demi-humans. Everyone in the room groaned as they saw him enter. “So, what do you blue-blooded freaks want?” The room ignored Takafumi, and continued chatting away with each other.

However, someone else followed Takafumi. “Make way for the Dungeon Hero, Jonathan Brown!” He too, had a harem of demi-humans, though this harem was a bit smaller compared to Takafumi’s one. Everyone in the room, especially Takafumi, groaned in great annoyance when they saw him enter. The room then continued to ignore Brown.

“Look at the new kid on the block, stealing my spot.” Takafumi walked up to Brown. They proceeded to argue verbally while everyone in the room did their best to continue ignoring them.

“That Pavise Hero sure is lively today.” Kim leaned back on his chair as if he was watching a game of football. He wished there was some popcorn he could snack on while watching them argue.

“He has the energy of an arrogant antagonist.” added Do-Yun. “Jonathan seems to minor to be an antagonist though, maybe he’d be a bully in the background.”

“Don’t underestimate that Jonathan guy.” said Kim, stopping his carefree leaning. “He’s only been in Gemeinplatz since the beginning of this spring, but he has already managed to become important enough to be summoned here.” Kim was a bit of an egoist, seeing himself a bit above everyone else, but he was also a businessman. The pragmatic, businesslike side of him felt danger when he was faced with Jonathan. “Jon must have a cheat skill allowing his ascent, but I have no clue as to what it might be. Presumably it has something to do with dungeons.”

Before Kim could audibly theorize further, the room suddenly calmed down. He stopped to look around to where everyone was looking at: the door. Count Leon had arrived.

“Make way for His Excellency!” The servant beside Leon entered the room, further announcing his arrival. Everyone important in the room obliged as they took a seat around the large table that covered the hall. Their servants stood beside them, there not being enough seats to seat all.

The count slowly made way for his position at the head of the table. He leisurely sat down, not because he was at leisure, but because he wanted to project an image of being calm and having the situation under control. “Now, you might be wondering why I gave gathered you all here today. Some of you may already know the reason as to why.”

“You have probably heard of the incident involving the uprising at Azdavay.” The hall was quieter than quiet at the mention of the exodus. “Do not worry, we’ve already arrested and dealt with the perpetrators. However, the fugitives remain at large, and they have captured a copper mine in the Curry Mountains, wantonly executed one of my knights, not to mention that they’re holding the knight’s family hostage.” Leon’s servant took out the letter from Sir Baha, and read it out loud. Sounds of shock and disdain reverberated throughout the room.

“These fugitives must be stopped, before they grow bolder and threaten to throw our entire county into anarchy. For the sake of the commonwealth of the realm, I ask you to lend the aid you’ve promised for anti-fugitive action.”

Extra historical context: The vision (of the snakes) shared by Harriet Tubman and the event (about the snake) shared by Brown are based on real accounts.

As Annie recalled, her father was not superstitious nor given to seeking after signs, but one incident took place that seemed to him almost classic biblical imagery. Brown and Annie were sitting together one afternoon when they heard the fluttering and twittering of two wrens at the door. When they went out to see the frantic birds, they found a snake had crawled nearby and was poised to strike at the young in their nest. Brown killed the snake, and later asked his daughter if she thought it was an omen of impending success in fighting on behalf of the slaves.

In her dream, Harriet Tubman saw a “wilderness sort of place, all full of rocks and bushes,” and a serpent raise its head among the rocks. The serpent became the head of an old man with a long, white beard, gazing at her “wishful like,” as if he was going to speak to her. Suddenly “two other heads rose up beside him, younger than he,” and as she wondered what they wanted with her, “a great crowd of men rushed in and struck down the younger heads, and then the head of the old man, still looking at her so ‘wishful.’” Only after she heard the news from Virginia, did Harriet Tubman finally understand the dream. John Brown’s raid on Harper’s Ferry had failed, and among the dead raiders were his sons Oliver and Watson. Brown had misread the meaning of the serpent as representing the evil of slavery, while Tubman intuitively understood the serpent in different biblical symbolism. Like the Savior with whom she later compared John Brown, the fiery serpent lifted up in the wilderness was a sign of salvation in death.

Chapter 32: Chapter XXIX – Bless them which argue with you.

Chapter Text

All was not well on Baha’s part. All was not well.

“Your cousin was executed, Your Excellency, I get your frustration…” However, he still had to get down on his knees and suck on the boots of his rightful liege. “…but, please, those savages have my sister! We could at least negotiate, wait for them to release her, and then attack!”

The council, much to Baha’s disdain, was one of imminent war. It was not that Baha was a man of peace, definitely not, but he was a man of not having his immediate family die to a bunch of revolting savages. For all this petty lord knew, Leila’s throat would be slit open the moment the scouts of his liege were seen circling around the mine. Not to mention the fate of her children…

“Yes, you do have my condolences.” Leon wasn’t having any of his vassal’s pleading. “You see Sir Baha, these darkskins will be violating more than your sister if we let them continue their activities further.” All of this uprising business was dangerous for the prospects of Leon getting to stay as a count. “It’s for the good of the realm, I assure you.”

“I- I…” Baha kept his head down low even while he rose up from his kneeling stance. There wasn’t much of anything he could gain by arguing further. “Understood, Your Excellency.” The petty lord bowed to his lord and left the room, heaving a deep sigh and muttering some quiet curses after he made sure that the door was closed.

Baha slowly made his way out of the count’s castle, continuing to quietly complain when there wasn’t any servants or guards that could hear him. “Even those bloody darkskins must have more honor than this prick.” That was an odd thought to hear be said out loud, but Baha had lost much of his patience and trust against his liege.

A lord was supposed to protect his vassals, that was the whole shtick with feudalism and vassalage, but Leon had completely ignored that completely by sacrificing Baha’s sister. Yes, Baha couldn’t help but agree that defeating the fugitives sooner would be better for the commonwealth of the realm, but he also couldn’t help but act irrationally when faced with losing someone so close to him. At least the darkskins had, according to the observations of his servant, kept their side of the bargain.

What good was a liege who was no better than the so-called savages?

7^th of Summer, 5859
Former Estate of Sir Algernon (just find a new name already for God’s sake), Azdavay / Casamonu

Summer had come to Northern Gemeinplatz, though Brown didn’t exactly know what to make of this “summer”. It wasn’t like summer in Connecticut or Kansas, sweltering and humid, but it was a summer where the air kept cool and the rain rarely ceased. Even if Brown had never seen it, he had heard that the gentle cold breeze of Northern Gemeinplatz was owed to the “dark sea” neighboring them.

With the skilled hands of the freemen, the trench constructing plan had been completed without much of a hitch (except for Bilal almost breaking his pinky while instructing someone on how to swing a pick). The estate area was small, contributing to the lightning-quick pace of ditch construction. Now a small line of earthen brown snaked its way through the outskirts of the estate, separating the outside from the inside.

Brown, he himself having worked digging trenches for a couple hours before his old back became too sore to proceed, and the freemen looked proudly at the mounds of dirt that they had dug up. It was hard labor, the sort that they had been doing for the last few years now, but it was work for the sake of themselves and not someone else.

The question now was: What next?

The freemen had a whole lot more options now, especially thanks to the ransom so graciously delivered to them by Sir Baha. Instead of money, Brown had initially requested for items to be delivered with most of those items being various tools of labor and industry. He planned on kickstarting proper construction, though it’d take him a good while to teach these newly freed men to do jobs other than mining. Still, he believed that these hardworking folk wouldn’t have a hard time learning anything given proper instruction.

“Now that we have taken our first step towards self-defense…” began Brown, turning to address the crowd. “…what else do you need?” It was a simple question, yet it was an important one. The old man wanted these people to govern themselves and truly be free, not for them to mindlessly listen to the words of some foreigner and accept Brown as their dictator-in-chief. The freemen would know best what they needed, all that was needed was for them to express and organize.

Hakim was the first one to raise a hand. “We’re running low on firewood. I’ll have to burn the furniture if we don’t work on that.” He looked around the crowd, before turning to newly-appointed foreman Bilal. “Your men can spend a bit of time chopping trees, right?”

Ayomide interjected before Bilal could reply. “We also need more of those copper spears. Having some ditch isn’t going to help us.”

The former maid Ekene further interrupted the foreman. “Most importantly, someone has been sneaking food off from the pantry! You know, we have limited food right now folks. We need to ration rationally if we want to stay alive!”

Without the need for much intervention, the disorganized crowd began organizing themselves. Thus, from becoming free of the shackle, the freemen also began freeing themselves further in another way, a way that’d help them be free of lords in the future.

Of course, all of the work that the freemen needed to do wouldn’t begin instantly.

They were human after all (despite what some might claim) and humans need breaks. It was the middle of the day now, with the sun having risen right on top even if nobody could see it thanks to the clouds, and nobody really wanted to go back to hard labor after having completed one project.

So it was that the freemen had gathered today to fulfill a need that had gone unfulfilled: their spiritual needs. In a world unforgiving and hostile to them, pretending that there was a deity or were deities who cared about them made everyone less worried about their situation. Being less worried gave them strength to face their source of worry, which leads to gratitude against whatever they just prayed to, so on and so forth until you get belief and religion.

The scene inside the dining hall, where the freemen gathered as usual, was an odd one.

“Oh, how I prayed then, lying all alone on the cold damp ground; 'Oh, dear Lord', I said. I haven't got no friend but you. Come to my help Lord, for I'm in trouble!” On one corner was Brown and Kyauta, facing Tubman while she was giving a makeshift sermon in front of a makeshift cross. They were also accompanied by Ekene and Ejike, who had mostly tailed them out of curiosity as to what these “Krischuns” were doing.

“Let me remind you that the duty of a good Believer is to let his dear man stand free, free to face the Divine whoever he might be! Now, let me tell you the story, one that they skip over in the Temple, of a freed slave who was a dear companion to our Prophet…” On the opposite corner were Vaiz and his new followers, with Bilal and a few of the other freemen sitting on the floor while listening to him.

On the complete opposite to this soup of belief sat Ayomide, Hakim, Tater and their big band of folk who didn’t care about either group. Having your family unceremoniously be torn apart, a common fate for any slave, wasn’t conductive to religious instruction of any kind. This neutral group prayed in their own unique ways, counting through a prayer bead, or rubbing a particularly lucky coin, or perhaps reciting bits of prayer to various deities and non-deities.

Thus was the odd syncretic environment in the former estate, one of Christianity, of the Divine Temple, and of folk religion side-by-side. Of white, Brown, and black united in common cause. A microcosm showing what might, perhaps, be the future in the macrocosm of Gemeinplatz. A future that’s frightening for some, exciting for others, currently not even imaginable by most.

The various groups finished their prayers, and dissolved to spend their free time at leisure. Leisure, in this case, meant very different things for very different people. Brown himself preferred to never spend time being idle, idleness being a broad term in his puritan book, and his activities consisted of sport and education (of others and himself). Ayomide was usually the one being educated by Brown, though thankfully she managed to stave off Bible study and Earth history thanks to the addition of new people for Brown to talk to. She either practiced with the M1 or she ran around the estate grounds to keep herself fit. Ayomide was doing just that, until she encountered a newly familiar sight approaching the estate.

“Evening, Ted.” It was the servant of Sir Baha, bringing them another installment of ransom. “Beware the ditches, you don’t want your horse to fall down there.”

Ted stopped his horse, barely in time for the animal not to fall in and break its legs. “When… When did you darkskins construct a f*cking trench?!” Darkskins were supposed to be lazy, or so he thought. Stashing away his racist thoughts for a moment, Ted got off the horse to present a large bag of money. “This is all we can muster right now. Turning assets into liquid cash isn’t easy.”

Ayomide took the bag, and found cash in it that was clearly solid. “…I’m pretty sure this isn’t liquid anything. Are you trying to scam us?”

“No- It’s a financial term, for…” Ted quickly gave up on explaining. “It’s cash nonetheless. May I see the mistress?”

“No matter how many times you see her, she isn’t going anywhere.” Ayomide still accompanied the man into the main building nonetheless, to the upstairs where Leila’s room lay. “Please make your meeting quick, I don’t want to waste my leisure time with your lightskin business.”

Ted didn’t respond. He opened the door to the room, finding Leila who was clearly still alive much to his relief. “Mistress! Are you fine?”

Leila responded the same way she had responded before. “Fine as one can reasonably be in such a situation.” She was currently dying of boredom, being confined into one room and all, other than that nothing of note had happened to her. “The children are fine as well, thank the Divine.”

“That’s good, that’s good.” Ted took out a letter from his pocket. He glanced over to Ayomide to see if she was okay with him handing it over.

Ayomide snatched the letter, examining it with her hands to make sure that nothing sharp (like a weapon) was stashed inside it. She didn’t send any magic coming off of it either, an enchanted paper causing something like an explosion would be quite troubling, so she gave the letter back to Ted without causing any further problems for him.

From Ted the letter passed on to Leila, from Leila the letter passed on to the table to be read later, from the table the letter passed nowhere because letters (usually) do not move by themselves. “It’s a letter from your brother.” Ted bowed down to his mistress. “He’s currently doing his best to gather the funds for your ransom.”

Leila thought that his brother was slow, but she also knew the fact that he was lacking in financial matters. “Has he petitioned Count Leon yet? I’d think that the count could help him in this situation.”

“That…” Ted didn’t look willing to continue this conversation further. His eyes shifted to Ayomide, then the door. “That… I have to go, mistress. I shouldn’t overstay my welcome here.”

“Right…” Ted and Leila parted ways quickly as they had met. The mistress watched, from the window, as Ayomide led Ted outside and the butler jumped on his horse and disappeared into the woods once more.

With the servant gone, Leila’s attention was once more taken by the letter. There was nothing else she could do to entertain herself, so opening the letter was her only choice.

The seal of the letter broke as it opened, and so did she.

Chapter 33: Chapter XXX – Bless them which revile you.

Chapter Text

Ayomide had woken up today, on the wrong side of the bed to be exact. Somebody had left one of the windows open in the barracks and the breeze had frozen her back stiff during the night. She cursed the person who had made her sleep a living hell.

However, her troubles were not to be over. She was making her way to Lady Leila’s room, with food as usual, when she heard awful noises coming from the room: cries and moans of pain. Plenty of them, and Ayomide worried, at least a little bit, whether the former mistress was dying back there. The abolitionist catgirl ran into the room, praying that their source of ransom wasn’t about to end further existence.

She gently opened the door to see that, visually at least, Leila was fine. There was no blood or anything, so things didn’t seem to be too bad. The woman was clutching to her belly, too busy being in pain to say anything coherent to Ayomide.

“Oh… is this what I think it is?” Ayomide didn’t need Leila’s response to understand what was happening. sh*t. What do I do? Being an abolitionist catgirl wizard was a completely separate branch of business compared to midwifery. “Uhm… Uhm…” Now she was panicking as well, this situation was somehow more stressful compared to impaling the overseers with javelins. At least she knew how to deliver a javelin, delivering babies was a whole lot more delicate of a job.

An idea struck Ayomide. Right, didn’t Brown have twenty children or something? He should know at least a little bit about midwifery… or would it be midhusbandry in his case? With this she ran out of the room, leaving Leila alone while she hunted for a suitable abolitionist with a particular set of skills.

Old John Brown and Harriet Tubman were back in the estate’s office, planning plans of future abolition and having theological debates as to the nature of the universe that they had found themselves in. By now, they had come to an agreement that the Lord had most likely created realms other than Earth, and that they were just in one of many realms that was found in the grand painting that was Creation.

They hadn’t, however, come to full agreement as to their future plan for action. Brown was adamant on being bold, and continuing to take offensive actions like the capturing of the copper mine that they were currently occupying. Tubman, on the other hand, wanted to go in a more covert manner until they were a whole lot more powerful as an organization.

Their talks had come to a gridlock, so there was currently silence. Brown intended to break it, so he found something to change the topic. “General Tubman, w-”

“Old man! General!” Ayomide crushed Brown’s dream of conversation when she crashed into the room. “I need you to make a child!”

…

“Excuse me?!” The two abolitionists were unsure as to how to reply to such a request.

“I mean-” Ayomide’s tongue had slipped and fallen into a cliff out of panic. She was still panting from having to metaphorically fly up the stairs, and her brain was still lacking sufficient oxygen. “I need you to deliver a child! The captive’s giving birth!”

“Oh! You mean something like that, young lady.” Brown was happy that he was not being requested to copulate so suddenly. He was still, technically, a married man for God’s sake! “I’m afraid that I lack experience in the field of midwifery.” Back in his time, midwifery was definitely a woman’s job, and Brown hadn’t studied deeply into it. He looked toward Tubman for help.

“I’m afraid I ain’t got the experience either.” Tubman shook her head. “I haven’t given birth to any children of my own. Kyauta hasn’t either.” Being an Underground Railway operator was, just like being an abolitionist catgirl wizard, a completely different field from midwifery.

“Great…” Most of the people in the estate were miners, who definitely didn’t participate in midwifery. Shinasi was an adventurer / professional winesop, Hakim was a cook, and Tater was a kid. Why did this woman have to give birth right now?! “Alright, what do we do now?”

Brown had a brilliant plan. “We pray to the Lord and…” He got up from his seat. “…do our best not to mess up.”

This plan didn’t seem too satisfactory to Ayomide, but she didn’t have a better plan either. I think that the Lord has abandoned us at this point… “Then…”

“Let’s be quick!” Tubman had a better plan. “Come on, that baby ain’t delivering itself!” She hurried out the door to Leila’s room. Brown and Ayomide followed her in her swiftness. Brown paused in front of the door, causing Ayomide to pause as well. “You aren’t going in, old man?”

“Lord forbid, I’m not going to be staring at a woman while she gives birth.” That’d be a tad bit too sinful considering that involved seeing parts that shouldn’t be seen by a gentleman. “Call me if you need anything delivered to the room.”

“Alright…” You do what you wanna do, old man. With this, Tubman and Ayomide went into the room while Brown leaned on the wall, praying most fervently for a safe birth. Leila was technically their captive, the widow of a whose thoughts were most likely much less than savory, but a good Christian like Brown would not hesitate to bless those who reviled him.

While leaning on the wall, Brown could easily overhear the commotion coming from inside the room. “General, we should probably let her lay do-” Crash! “Crap! That wasn’t too expensive, was it?”

“Miss Ayomide, now is not the time to worry about that!” Tubman admonished Ayomide, and sounds of broken shards crunching under their shoes could be heard. “The baby comes out of here, just pull up her dress so the way’s clear.”

“This feels way too creepy… Wait, is that the baby’s head?!” Ayomide screamed out of shock. “Ah! The hell is this?!” This only served to stress Leila further, who was still wailing in pain.

“Don’t be needlessly uncouth, Miss Ayomide!” Saying ‘hell’ was definitely not acceptable, even in such a stressful situation. “It’s moving down… Alright, push!”

“Wow, it looks ugly.” She sounded genuinely surprised. “I thought that babies were supposed to be cuter, and not covered in slime.”

“Miss! Stop being rude toward other people’s children and help me get this baby out!” It seemed that Tubman was slowly running out of patience.

“I can’t move it further! There’s a hose of flesh stuck to its tummy.” Ayomide was further creeped out by the baby, but she didn’t dare make any further disparaging comments lest she incur the wrath of Tubman.

“I think we have to cut that one.” Tubman popped her head through the door to meet old Brown. “Knife.” She extended an empty hand, which was quickly filled by Brown’s trusty knife courtesy of Watanabe Generico (remember him?). Tubman popped back in as quickly as she had popped out.

“Wait, we’re just going to cut- Just like that?!” Ayomide wasn’t exactly used to seeing impromptu incisions to human flesh. Spawning new humans was a whole lot messier than she had initially thought. “And… That’s a whole sac of flesh that just came out of her. Holy…”

“That’s called ‘placenta’, if I remember correctly. The baby’s bit quiet-” Tubman’s thoughts were interrupted by the newborn crying so loudly that everyone in the room (and even Brown outside the room) thought that their eardrums would rupture to a thousand pieces. “Alright, it… he’s alive. Brown, you can come in!”

Brown came in to the room, to see that the once elegant bedroom had turned into a huge mess. There were the shards of a broken vase on the floor, a wet carpet thanks to said broken vase, along with other bits and bobs knocked and moved during the chaos. Ayomide was sitting on the couch, looking up to the ceiling in a manner that suggested she was most exhausted. She wasn’t expecting so much action today. Tubman was looking around for some sort of towel to clean her hands of fluids that needn’t be mentioned in further detail, and the newborn infant was seated on Leila’s chest.

“Thank the Lord, it seems that you are all fine.” Brown’s comment gained a sarcastic glare from Ayomide.

“Yes, I’m very fine as you can see.” Ayomide had only one question left in her mind after witnessing the wonders of childbirth: Why the hell do people willingly have children?! She was glad to be the one peacefully sitting on the sofa, not having to worry about doing whatever had just happened in front of her. “Huh, what’s this?” There was a letter that had been left on the armrest. “Oh, it’s the letter that the butler just gave.”

“Stop…” Leila tried to rise up to meet Ayomide, before she remembered there was an entire baby currently occupying her. “…Or… It doesn’t matter if you read it. It’s not like I can do anything to save myself.” She seemed somber all of a sudden, for a good reason. “We’re all dead men here.”

“Huh?!” Leila got the same reaction out of everyone else in the room. Ayomide rushed to open the letter. Confronting the letter’s letters, she remembered the fact that she was illiterate. “Old man, could you?”

Brown snatched the letter from Ayomide. He began reading its contents out loud. “Dear sister, I hope that you are doing your best despite these troubling times. May the Divine give you patience, and…” Its contents, on the front page, were mostly intrafamilial fluff. However, when Brown turned the paper over, he saw another thing.

Instead of letters written in ink like usual, there were letters written in something that had burnt down. The paper smelled vaguely like citrus, oranges to be exact, which revealed the nature of this simple invisible ink that had been made visible. The writing on the page with invisible ink was a whole lot cruder as the sender wasn’t able to clearly see their writing during the process.

All of this work preparing invisible ink had actually gone to waste, as Ayomide hadn’t inspected the contents of the letter in the first place. Sir Baha had simultaneously underestimated and overestimated the freemen on that front. Brown was a bit angry that they hadn’t managed to catch something as simple as invisible ink made from orange juice.

Dear sister. I regret to infourn inform you that the count has decided to not wait for you to be released. He’ll be caming coming with his army soon.

May murcey mercy be granted to our souls.

“That’s way earlier than I thought. Huh.” Brown took a good look around the room. Ayomide’s face looked like she was done with life, so did the face of Leila, while Tubman retained her slight scowl as usual. Unlike them however, Brown didn’t seem to affected.

“Old man, aren’t you supposed to be panicking right now?! I’ve only had a couple days to drill those thirty or so slaves, and there’s only a little trench to hold back whatever that count throws at us!” Ayomide was righteously freaking out a bit over the prospect of being attacked by a proper army.

Brown continued as calmly as he had done before. “That just means that we’re just going to have to advance our plan in a quicker pace.” He threw the letter back on to the armrest. “It’s a shame that we’re not getting the full ransom, but we’ll have to content ourselves with what Providence has deemed suitable for us. The Lord eventually rewards the righteous, one way or another; keep this in mind young lady.”

“…and he’s currently rewarding us with certain death?” This Lord didn’t exactly seem to be of the consistent sort. “We can’t win against the forces of a count!”

Brown revealed a slight smirk, committing the sin of pride. “We can and, God willing, we will.”

And Ayomide revealed a raised brow. “…how are we going to face such a force?”

Brown’s answer was suitably laconic:

“We aren’t.”

Chapter 34: Chapter XXXI – Be swift, my soul, to answer him!

Chapter Text

9^th of Summer, 5859
Casamonu, Empire of Gemeinplatz

Count Leon had done it. He had, with diplomacy of upmost adroitness, gathered a force without much financial strain.

Favors, politicking, a whole lot of letters and some threats later, a force consisting of a hundred men had gathered in his castle’s garden. This “army” definitely wasn’t big, but the count didn’t need anything big to take care of a few errant slaves hiding in the mountain. It consisted of indebted adventurers, retinues of close noble houses, and donated troops from those wishing to gain the favor of the count.

The count rode atop his horse, inspecting his little army with pride. Of course, he himself would also be participating in the battle… as a commander staying in the backline. Getting his own hands dirty wasn’t in line with how Leon operated, nor was he an experienced military commander. He had delegated command to those who had brought the forces, which was more than good enough for a force that was meant to beat down a few lightly armed slaves.

How he operated did include speeches though. “Men! You are doing a great service to the county today.” Leon’s horse moved to-and-fro to make sure that everybody could hear at least a little bit of his speech. “Those savages up in the mountains have been terrorizing this land for a while now, terrorizing our spouses and children. Today we shall say ‘No more!’ as we drive these uppity darkskins off of Curry and into an otherworld!” The count raised his sword, and pointed it toward Mount Curry.

His speech hadn’t exactly motivated the men too much. None of them were all too motivated from vague notions of “protecting the realm” and “uppity darkskins”. What motivated them was whatever reward laid ahead after their job was done: fame, reputation, and most importantly, sweet dosh.

“Now, as you may all know, the former owner of the mine we’re about to head off to has been brutally murdered by the fugitives.” Leon wasn’t done with his speech, however. He continued to ride around while keeping his sword pointed towards the mountain. “Whoever, at the end of the battle, brings me the most heads of these fugitives dead or alive shall receive this land and the honor of knighthood!”

This promise was a whole lot more motivating. The men’s reluctance turned into enthusiasm at the prospect of nobility and owning a mine for themselves. “Your Excellency! What about the slaves we capture?” This question came from an old adventurer in the audience.

“You can do whatever you’d like to your captives. Own them, sell them, kill them…” Leon had truly gotten the attention of the crowd now. They seemed pretty excited to get to looting the human chattel of the abandoned estate. “Let me remind you that we won’t get to do that if we don’t march.” This prompted a few laughs from the crowd. Leon led his horse towards the gate of his castle. “Forward, march!”

With his command, the disorganized mess of men organized themselves into a loosely column-shaped line of men; it was impossible to march in formation effectively without training, nor was professional military training a common occurrence in Gemeinplatz. They didn’t need fancy formations for what they were about to do anyways. A hundred armed men could defeat whatever measly force had taken control of the mine.

They knew not what, or who, they were facing…

9^th of Summer, 5859
Mount Curry, Casamonu

It was a foggy and rainy day as usual in Mount Curry, and marching through it was quite a bother. This was especially true if one was marching with a hundred people in tow.

Just one person pausing due to the mud meant that everyone behind them had to stop while they got their precious boots unstuck. The mountain road was quite narrow, meaning that nobody could reroute when anyone in front of them had to pause. Reduced visibility in the fog meant that there were quite a few false alarms: a few errant farmers and miners had almost been murdered on the spot by paranoid adventurers. Thankfully, the count’s army had managed to keep the number of civilian casualties to a somewhat acceptable 2, the casualties being a goatherd and his dog. The men quickly buried the bodies before anyone had time to have any bothersome qualms about what they had done, to get them out their sight and out their mind.

The march was quite slow thanks to these problems, and the small army had barely made it halfway toward their goal by the time the day ended. As the sun went down so did their enthusiasm to march any further. Camp was set up on the road, for they had failed to find a plateau to settle down for the night. The night began, with the men flanked by darkness and mountains.

“Shakira, come here. I think I’ve finally found a spot.” Among the ones in camp was a familiar figure, that of Shakir and his adventuring companion. He had been looking for somewhere safe and reasonable to settle for the rainy night, and he had found a spot under a few trees that seemed to have stayed dry.

“Coming!” Shakira ran toward the spot, still carrying her ridiculously large sword. Everyone who she ran across turned their heads to gaze at the sword, wondering how the hell she had carried it all the way. Most of them concluded that it must be some sort of magic metal that was lightweight, like mithril, but this was false. Shakira was indeed carrying a weapon made out of run-of-the-mill steel. She was able to carry it thanks to fantasy logic that’d take way too long to exposit.

The adventuring pair sat touched grass as they sat down to take a breather. Shakir and Shakira put down all their worldly possessions that they had been carrying. “Damn that Shinasi. He’d at least help us carry all this.” Shakir grumbled while his old legs wept tears of joy from all the weight that had been lifted off of them.

“If he hadn’t disappeared.” added Shakira. They still hadn’t figured out where that man had gone off to. It was most likely to escape some grave debt he had accumulated while under influence of foreign chemicals (a.k.a. alcohol). On the topic of debt, the financial situation of Shakir and Shakira had worsened considerably since they had lost their one and only tank.

The pair stayed like this for a while, voicing a few complaints here and there while they waited for sleep to finally take them. It didn’t take long, however, for visitors to show up. Shakir saw a small group, of what looked to be a petty nobleman and his retinue, show up to construct a tent next to them.

The servant of this nobleman approached the adventurers. “Could you please move to somewhere else?” It seems that the petty noble had eyes on their place of rest. There wasn’t much that Shakir and Shakira could do, so they got up to find somewhere else.

“Wait a second, Ted.” The nobleman leading the group stopped his servant. “We should have enough room in the tent. Let them stay with us for the night.”

“Yes sir.” Ted immediately changed his tone to be a whole lot less dismissive of the adventurers. “Help us set up the tent, if you could.” He handed Shakir(a) a couple of stakes to be staked down.

“Thank you, sir, for your generosity.” The pair bowed down to their overlord in a sense of slight genuine gratitude. A large tent was quickly set up with their help, and they all got inside to breathe a sigh of relief. Not being under the rain felt great.

What felt a whole lot greater was the drinks brought out by Ted, who handed everyone a cup filled with suitably high-class wine. Cups clanged together as everyone in the tent cheered.

“Thank you again sir, for letting us stay dry tonight.” Shakir retracted his cup and took a sip. He was a understandably nervous; someone like him didn’t get to frequently dine with the upper class. “I’m Shakir, and she is Shakira. It’d be a pleasure to know the name of the one keeping us dry.”

“I am Sir Baha Earlywatch, loyal knight of His Excellency.” This nobleman was truly petty, only having a knighthood and a meagre amount of land and wealth.

Shakira paused upon hearing their host’s name. “Earlywatch? Wasn’t your sister, Lady Leila, married to the mine’s owner?” Leila’s predicament was pretty well known thanks to Leon having revealed it to everyone in his court.

Baha didn’t answer, showing that he didn’t wish to discuss this matter further. He sufficed by staring emptily towards particularly nothing. The petty noble did actually have a lot of things to say, but most of his thoughts would amount to treason against the count. Unlike Algernon, Baha still had a head that he had to keep attached to his shoulders.

Shakir noticed the awkward environment. He coughed in an attempt to cut the silence. “Let’s not speak about distasteful topics like that, Shakira.”

“Right! Right.” Shakira shook herself upon noticing the faux pas she had just committed. “Sorry about that, sir.” She prayed that she hadn’t offended the nobleman in front of her, and he eyes drifted toward the ground to avoid the noble stare of Baha.

“You are excused.” Baha was a petty noble only in the material sense of the word “petty”. He didn’t intend to lash out on some rude adventurers. That wouldn’t help out his situation by much. “Your… our job is to clear fugitives. That’s it. You needn’t ponder too much.” Baha himself had only participated in hopes of winning a crumb of favor from the count, perhaps convincing him to hand over the estate to a member of the Earlywatch family. He didn’t actually intend to join the fight when he arrived at the estate.

“Yes, glorious battle! As glorious as a battle against a bunch of darkskins can be, anyways.” Shakir laughed at his own joke as he gulped down the wine. “You know, we’ve only gone to battle against monsters in the mountains. I guess we can consider this as a dungeon raid, considering there’s little difference between a monster and a darkskin.” This time Shakira and Ted joined in laughing at this cheap joke. Baha found less humor in it; he had a teeny tiny issue with making jokes about a place that probably contained his sister’s corpse at this very moment.

“Ah! By the way, by the way…” Ted had decided to get a speaking role in this chapter. Being tipsy did wonders to his sociability. “…you know, there’s some pretty good loot to be found in that place. I’m speaking as a fellow adventurer here, albeit a former one.”

“Oh? What kind?” Shakira got a whole lot livelier at the mention of loot. She leaned a bit closer towards Ted to hear him more clearly.

“I’m talking about the darkskins, you know.” Ted had gotten a chance to take a much closer look at the residents thanks to having been the one to attempt negotiating. He leaned back while reminiscing of the freemen he had seen. “Most of them are miners, the strong muscular kind. I’ve seen those sell for a lot on the market, laborers are always in demand.”

Shakir nodded along. “I’ve seen them sell for a lot as well. He made plans to use a bit of magic to knock some slaves unconscious for capturing. Perhaps I should bring along some rope…

Two remarkable figures among the slaves suddenly jumped into Ted’s head. He leaned forward, to better address his interested audience. “And, and, there was also a slave that looked like a lightskin among them.” Slaves with lighter skin weren’t an impossibility, there was often intermingling (to put it politely) that resulted in mixed children. “Those go for a lot of money, you know. Along with him, there was also a female demihuman, of the catgirl kind, among the slaves. I believe she’d also amount to a nice sum of money, if you don’t intend on keeping her yourself.” Ted sent a wink toward Shakir while saying the last part.

“Mm? A catgirl in the mines?” Shakir’s brow trended upwards. “I haven’t seen their kind be used often for manual labor.” He quickly realized what this implied but kept quiet. Noblemen keeping enslaved mistresses, even whole personal harems, was an openly known secret; implying that the cousin of the count did just that wasn’t a thing that Shakir was about to do. Still, a catgirl didn’t sound too bad. “Maybe I’ll-”

Suddenly, a javelin tore through the tent’s roof and skewered Shakir’s head. His entire body went limp. A cup of wine rolled on the floor, ruining the tent’s flooring, not to mention the blood and other brain matter that had found itself on the wrong side of Shakir’s skull.

Everyone in the tent screamed in unison upon seeing a man dying in front of them. They weren’t alone in screaming, for they were joined by other men from outside the tent.

Hell had suddenly broken loose.

Chapter 35: Chapter XXXII – Be swift my spear, to impale them!

Chapter Text

Tonight was a beautiful night like any other. Scant rays of moonlight shimmered through the clouds, resulting in quite an enchanting scene if one were to stop and look around in the rain. Crickets chirped in a manner that stood between a chorus and straight up cacophony, somehow managing to be calming instead of annoying.

Under the moonlight was enslaved maid café waitress turned abolitionist catgirl wizard Ayomide, leading men into battle as they skewered their enemies from above. “Alright, ready? Fire!” Her shouts resonated throughout the mountains, though her voice was drowned out by the chaos below. Another slew of spears made their way down under their command, only adding to the death and destruction occurring below them.

Their enemy below couldn’t see them, as Ayomide’s group carried no sources of light. Even then, they stayed on a cliff that overlooked the section where the count’s men had camped. There was only road leading from Casamonu to the top of Mount Curry, so finding them wasn’t too hard.

What’d usually be hard would be leading a group of men in the dark. It was already hard to see under the moonlight for your average human, not to mention the lack of moon or light due to the congregation of never-ending rainclouds.

However, Ayomide was no human.

This was why she had been chosen to lead this ambush: cat(girl)s had the ability to see in the dark. Her group had slowly managed to find their way thanks to the guidance of their semi-feline captain.

Brown, of course, had also joined this ambush. He thought that it’d be quite rude to cozy himself up in the estate while the freemen were fighting. “I wish we had catgirls back in the United States!” he shouted while sending another spear down the cliff. “You would have helped me out a lot in Kansas.” Having night vision was quite a significant advantage in warfare; one that’d not be realized on Earth until World War II (which Brown had no idea about). The cogs in old Brown’s head had already began turning upon realizing that he had this sort of advantage, and he was capitalizing on this advantage right now.

The freemen didn’t know how many they had felled, for all they knew all their shots had missed, but they didn’t intend to face such a force anyways. This was mostly an attack to sow fear, cause confusion, and maybe rack up some casualties on the enemy side. It seemed to be working, judging from the sounds of screams, shouts, and small explosions coming from down below.

Suddenly, the dark night sky was lit up by a small ball of light flying up to the sky from the camp.

“They’re casting flares!” Ayomide stated the obvious as she had to shield her eyes from the overwhelming light. Becoming visible under light would be quite bad for their prospects of survival. “Old man, we should retreat!” A few more balls of light joined the fray while she was trying to inform Brown.

Brown couldn’t answer for a few seconds. He and everyone else had been stunned by the sudden lightshow. Something like this, Brown thought, could be used as a weapon in the future. Having invented the concept of a flashbang, Brown quickly reoriented himself back to the environment. “Indeed we should. Retreat!”

“Alright, just hold my hand people.” The ambushing squad locked their hands together in a chain that eventually led back to Ayomide, who functioned as a living-and-breathing night vision equipment. This was how they had made their way to here without being lost, and this was also how they’d make their way back. “We ready?”

“I believe we’re ready, young lady. With our Heavenly Father watching over us, let us skedaddle!”

“Is it over?” Count Leon reluctantly peeked out from under the shield of one of his retainers. The rain of spears, unlike the usual rain in Northern Gemeinplatz, seemed to have ceased completely.

However, the chaos in camp hadn’t ceased.

Men were still running around, shooting arrows, bolts and magic towards the mountains flanking them in hopes of hitting their assailants. Leon wasn’t too surprised: this was to be expected from an army he had gathered on the cheap. What surprised him was the boldness of the freemen in attacking a superior force. It seemed that those savages were not going to go down without a fight.

No matter the fighting spirit of the fugitives, Leon first had to restore order in his camp. “Hilmi! Are you alive?”

“Yes, sir!” Hilmi, Leon’s servant and right-hand man, crawled from under another shield. “Do you need me to…” He nodded towards the entrance to the tent they were in, where one could see what was happening outside.

“Yes, I need you to calm the men down.” Leon liked Hilmi, for he always knew what his liege wanted. “Also, try to get a preliminary count of the casualties.”

“Right away, sir.” Hilmi got up, dusted his clothes, and went outside. There he got on his stead, and rode around while shouting for men to calm the hell down in the name of their lord. The cacophony outside slowed down, and things seemed to go back to normal when Hilmi entered the tent once more. He presented his report based on the observations he had made while riding around. “There seem to be a few casualties, along with a whole lot more who were wounded during the chaos.”

“As I expected.” This report didn’t contain anything that Leon couldn’t have figured out by taking a peek outside. “Get some men to guard the high-up places.” Setting up simple patrols hadn’t crossed his mind before. The count wasn’t exactly what one might call a “military genius”. “We’ll keep marching on as usual when dawn breaks.” He then went back to bed without saying anything else.

“Understood, sir.” Hilmi bowed down and left the tent to let the count have a good night’s sleep.

The dawn broke once more, Mount Curry waking up as it has done so for an uncountable number of years. Seeing the light, the cicadas had gone quiet and the birds had once again revealed themselves to hunt them down.

Sunlight came a bit late to the valley where the count’s men rested. The count’s men found the corpses of their slain allies upon waking up, for they were too tired and afraid to collect bodies during the night. It was quite a gruesome sight, to see so many of the dead strewn around so casually.

Some shed a tear or two for their allies; many began working on getting the corpses collected and covered with sheets as to keep this sight out of mind. Around a dozen corpses were collected in half an hour and laid side-by-side while they were identified. Those close to the dead were tasked with carrying the corpses so that they could be given a proper funeral.

Shakira, instead of her ridiculously enormous sword, now carried the body of Shakir. His corpse was slumped over her shoulders, covered by tent cloth donated to her by Sir Baha for this purpose. They didn’t have much in common other than their names, but it was still a harrowing thing to carry the stiff, cold body of another human being.

A similar emotion permeated throughout the camp. Yesterday’s fleeting enthusiasm to plunder was replaced with the realization that anybody could die in the following battle, and for what purpose? Most of the men were not seasoned soldiers who were ready to face such questions.

Shoulders were slumped, heads looked down, the prospect of mortality faced. Brown hadn’t faced them himself, but they had been made to face something slightly worse than old John Brown’s wrath.

Still, the men needed to acquire money, please their liege(s) and go to battle. They began dismantling their camp and got ready to head out for the Algernon Estate.

“Hey, you Hangvuki bastards!” One group who was not packing up was the four cultivators sent by Long Dong. They surrounded the Korean mercenaries sent by Kim Seong-min, their leader looking so furious that the space between his brows could constitute yet another valley by itself. “You shot our comrade, didn’t you?!” Next to him was a fellow sect member holding a body, whose white robes had been stained by blood centered around a bullet hole.

The most fancily dressed of the mercenaries, clearly their leader, looked at the sect leader before turning back to his own men to ask a question. “Jeo namjaga mwolaneun geojyo? Jung-gug-eoleul aneun bun-i issnayo?” All of his comrades shrugged; these Koreans didn’t know nor understand the language that the cultivator was using. However, they could still see the corpse with an excess of lead inserted via the bullet hole, so the mercenaries understood that they had committed a minor case of friendly fire during the fighting and that the man in front of them was angry because of it.

“Young master Yun, I don’t think these men understand us…” Yun’s disciple bowed down while humbly correcting his master.

“Then I’ll make them understand.” Yun slowly walked towards the mercenary captain, intending to be as threatening as possible. The captain had no time to react as the young master grabbed him by the collar and raised him up. All of the mercenaries raised their rifles in reaction. All of the barrels pointed towards Yun.

“Mwo?!” The captain’s legs frantically swung around as he tried to escape Yun’s grasp. He had to save himself one way or another. “Balpohada!” So, he gave the order to fire.

At once the barrels of the M1s lit up, the bullets heading towards the young master. “Hmph. Is this what you mortals call an ‘attack’?” Without letting go of the mercenary captain, Yun quickly jumped up to avoid the bullets. He met one of the incoming bullets with his feet, which he had made as hard as titanium through clever manipulation of qi, kicking the bullet like it was a football. The bullet kicked by him, violating several laws of logic and physics, was deflected towards the head of the captain. The other bullets went toward Yun’s disciples, who easily dodged the projectiles.

All of the above happened in the blink of an eye. To outside observers, it looked as if the captain was shot by his own men. A few blades of grass were uprooted from the ground due to the quick movements of the young master and his disciples.

“Hmph. We’re even.” Yun kept holding on to the captain’s newly deceased body while staring daggers at the remaining mercenaries. One could feel his killing intent as if it was a tangible object. “For now. You are like frog meat compared to the fine swans that are our men, being nowhere equal.” With this he threw the dead captain as if he was a piece of garbage he had picked up from the street.

The mercenaries were shaken further, for they were already stirred from the attack yesterday, by the sudden death of their captain by what they thought to be their own hands. Their knees were weak, hands shaking like crazy, with cold sweat racing down their brows.

Yun and his disciples turned around, pretending nothing happened. Nobody who witnessed the scene dared speak out against the cultivators, leading the scene to become as quiet as a morgue.

Yun turned around one last time to meet the mercenaries directly eye-to-eye.

“I’d kill you all if not for the orders of Master Long Dong. Be glad that you’ll be alive to face the Demon King with us.”

Then he continued on his merry way, and so did the rest of the camp continue their way towards the Algernon Estate.

Chapter 36: Chapter XXXIII – Be jubilant my feet, to surprise them!

Chapter Text

Mud, rain, slight fog and a steep incline, marching had become a slog that had slowed down to a petrified snail’s pace. Like a snail leaving behind a trail, the count’s men also left behind a trail of footprints and tired men who gave up on continuing the journey. Attrition had set in so early that the sun was still rising when tiredness set in to the hearts of men.

What was supposed to be a simple operation to capture fugitives and loot an estate had become a muddy hell on not-Earth. This would have been bearable, especially with the prospect of loot, if not for the ambush yesterday leaving a scar on their spirits. The men were constantly looking up, trying to anticipate another unexpected rain of copper and fury. They had yet to face the enemy properly, as in none of them had seen the faces of their adversary, but there was the prospect of facing them any time. That prospect, of potential death even if their allies would achieve victory over the fugitives, was quite frightening to this force of people who weren’t that used to warfare against other people.

Much to their surprise however, there were no more attacks on their way to the Algernon estate. The rest of the march of the count’s army turned out to be a surprisingly peaceful one, and spirits slowly recovered as they inched closer to the estate in anticipation of the loot that surely awaited them at the end.

The only one who wasn’t as excited was Sir Baha, who was probably the only person in the group who wasn’t presently afflicted by concerns of the material kind. He rode on his horse, flanked by his small retinue, doing his best to follow the disorganized march of the count’s army. Following him was Shakira and her ridiculously enormous sword, who had just kind of stuck around after having stayed in the same tent as him.

“Can you see the estate?” Shakira looked up at Baha, who could see higher ground thanks to being mounted.

“No, but I believe that we should see it soon.” Baha quickened his pace slightly, prompting his retainers to do the same. Shakira’s legs protested as she had to catch up on foot. The petty lord turned to address his retainers following him from behind. “We should make haste.” He wanted to make sure that Leila’s body wouldn’t be looted or lost during the chaos; Baha wanted to give her a proper funeral at the least.

With their haste soon came the Algernon estate showing itself on top of yet another incline. Or, it was supposed to show itself. Baha had visited the place before so he knew where it was supposed to be, yet he couldn’t see any of the estate’s buildings from down where he was at. Hesitation struck him, and he quickly signaled his own men to stop. “Halt! There’s something wrong going on here.”

“Why’d we stop?” Shakira halted alongside. The rest of the count’s men, however, didn’t as they weren’t beholden to the will of some petty lord. They got on top of the hill and, in a manner that wasn’t too unexpected, some shrill screams were heard from the top.

Baha rushed forward on his horse without saying a word. His retainers stared at each other with a blank expression before they understood that they should probably follow their lord. Shakira, the poor soul she was without a horse, had to use her own legs to carry herself upwards. After a minute or two of arduous uphill running she saw what was wrong:

“sh*t! Who built a ditch here?”

“Help get me out of this place!”

“How did you idiots not see that?”

There was a ditch built around the estate, one last surprise prepared specially for them by old John Brown, which one could easily fall into as it was obscured during the uphill climb. A few had managed to land themselves in the ditch, which had a surprise for them in the form of wooden stakes built under loosely packed dirt. Dropping down there didn’t look like a pleasant experience; it wasn’t a pleasant experience as those in the ditch could currently attest to.

The ditch itself might have been surprising, but it wasn’t as surprising as something else that was on the hill. Or, more accurately, something that wasn’t on the hill.

“…It’s all burnt down.” Sir Baha got off his high horse to take a closer look at what was left of the Algernon estate. For that matter, all that was left was blackened pieces of wood, carpentry, and perilous bits of glass. The fire had burnt so greatly that the earth under the former mansion had blackened like charcoal. There was nothing of value left, save the occasional bits of copper ore that had melted down thanks to the mansion itself acting as an expensive kiln during its final moments.

Slowly the adventurers and other men on foot made managed to climb the hill as well, and their disappointment was immeasurable. There was no loot, no slaves, nothing of value that’d make almost dying worth it.

They had only wasted their time by coming here; Count Leon had wasted his good graces and favor by making them come here to this dilapidated estate in a place so remote that even the Divine had most likely forgotten of its existence.

Worst of all, only for Sir Baha, there was no Leila to be found anywhere. Where did she lay among this field of ash and earth? Baha knew not. He frankly wasn’t that excited to find out the state her corpse would be in. There somewhere laid his sister, who could have been saved if not for Count Leon having decided to rush in for the sake of surprising the fugitives. Baha bent his knees and touched the earth as well, doing his best not to cry in front of a live audience.

“Sir.” Ted, Baha’s most loyal servant, tapped on his lord’s shoulders. “You’re going to get dirt on your trousers.”

“…” Baha got up. Nobility, even the pettiest ones like him, couldn’t even have a proper emotional moment without having to care about decorum. He was instinctively about to reply with a ‘sorry’, before he also realized that lords usually didn’t apologize to their servants. Sometimes, especially when times of financial difficulty and hardship hit, Baha wished he could just quit his job.

It looked like everyone else was similarly tired after this farce, for different reasons compared Baha, and the adventurers had already began setting up camp without any orders from the count.

Count Leon himself did his best to stay back and not show his face lest he incur the wrath of the lootless adventurers. This wasn’t the time for a pompous speech. He was surprised, and frustrated, at how much his enemy had managed to damage them despite not properly facing them at all.

In all honesty, this was a dishonorable way to fight – but a man of honor against slavers Brown was not. Honor was reserved for those who were honorable in conduct to their fellow man; the wicked deserved to receive the wrath of the Lord delivered to them personally.

“…Baha! Brother!”

Baha looked around him. Was he hearing voices now? Perhaps his sister’s soul still lingered on here.

“Mistress! Is that you?” Ted had managed to locate the source of the voice. Leila’s soul was nowhere to be found; her body was still marching on, or barely marching on through the crowds of adventurers busy with setting up camp. She was flanked by her two children walking next to her and, on her arms, another one that Baha had yet to see until today.

“Sister!” Baha ran towards her, intending to hug her. He couldn’t as her hands were currently preoccupied. The petty lord had to suffice with patting the children on the head. “I thought that… I thought that those savages would definitely murder you when we came here!”

Leila was smiling, thanks to the safe reunion, but the rest of her countenance was a grim one. Her hair had become messy, her dress was laden with dust, and the kids didn’t look any better. A broken smile, one compromised of a world suddenly shattered by its sins and contradictions. “I… Their leader decided to spare me.” She didn’t look all that excited to be alive at this moment.

“Huh? Those savage darkskins spared you?” Baha wasn’t sure what to make of that. He still wasn’t sure that the woman in front of him was real. He had to recover from the absurdity of such a thing before he could reply further. “That’s… great!”

“It is…” said Leila, silently adding an ‘…I guess’ to the end of her sentence. She was a free woman at this point, a noble one at that, what did she realistically have to worry about? Baha couldn’t get why his sister seemed to be in such a state.

“What’s most important is that you are fine, mistress.” added Ted, ever so faithful.

“Yeah, cheer up won’t you?” further added Shakira, who had been awkwardly attending this family reunion. She had felt a tad bit too awkward when she was standing silently, hence her sudden interjection.

Leila didn’t reply, but she did her best to at least not look sullen. She was a widow now, sure, but her brother had enough funds to take care of her family. Life was going to be fine. No hitches, no slave uprisings, no… None of that nonsense. The mistress would be back to her usual routine, of idle comfort and luxury, until the day she’d finally croak out of this world into another one.

This was the ideal life for a noble lady like her, for noble ladies and gents across Gemeinplatz. Raised on the shoulders of their slaves, and subjects, they could afford to stay high, mighty, and idle. That was how things were supposed to be. That’s how they must be…

…right? The slaves, those abominable darkskins, working among themselves, that was just a fluke. Their weird rituals, of voting and consulting each other as equals, those were the workings of inferior minds. The lightskin had already found the perfect way, the most civilized way…

“Mistress? Are you fine?” Ted had already begun working on their tent with the help of Shakira. “You shouldn’t stare at the sky so much. Looking at the sun is going to damage your eyes.”

“Right. Thank you.” Leila closed her eyes to let them rest. She was a well-read woman, but reading was just an activity to pass her idle time. The mistress didn’t like to think too much. Thinking made her brain hurt, made her heart be in trouble with the harsh questions that this world presented to her, those were all things a proper lady shouldn’t be worried about.

“Here, I have some tea for you, mistress.” Ted had taken a break from the tent to get something for his mistress. He handed over a suitably fancy cup filled with even fancier tea.

Leila gracefully took the cup. The warm liquid flowing through her made Leila calm once more.

All would be fine. All was fine.

There were no wild abolitionists running around, making plans to emancipate the entirety of Gemeinplatz with righteous fury of the most hallow kind. No, totally. All was fine…

…right?

Chapter 37: Chapter XXXIV – Be swift my hands, to construct them!

Chapter Text

13^th of Summer, 5859
Mount Curry, Casamonu / Azdavay

Clouds. Rain. Even more rain. A torrent of slaves. John Brown. They were all heading down, and down, slowly rolling over the mountains until they found a place to stop and rest. The clouds turned to rain, rain came down and turned into puddles, and slaves rescued themselves and turned into freemen.

Of course, the freemen weren’t returning empty-handed. Brown had, in the day before the arrival of Count Leon’s army, made sure that everything that wasn’t bolted down would be taken back to the cave. It was odd to see so many freemen, in tatters and rags, carrying luxury furniture down to a spot below the cave; old John Brown could’ve switched careers, from abolitionist to shopkeeper, and opened a furniture store with all the stock that he had appropriated (some may call this action “stealing” and “a crime”; Brown would argue that the freemen were just taking back what they were owed with added interest from late payment by the late Sir Algernon).

By the end of this wild evacuation, there wasn’t a soul left who wasn’t tired. The plateau below the cave was filled with soft chairs, thick books, and tired freemen. Tired they were, free they also were. The air felt ever fresher, to the likes of Ekene and Ejike, whom now found themselves in a society not of masters and servants but one of equals. Where the whip cracked no further, inbred ingrates lived no longer, and one was free to loiter and prattle.

The big blue sky, even if it was mostly blocked by clouds, looked vast and nice, yet it also signaled a problem that they all soon would have: rain combined with a lack of shelter. Everything that the freemen had brought over had already been thoroughly drenched in a layer of rainwater.

“Gather around!” Brown clapped his hands to get the attention of the resting men. He added a forced cough to catch further attention. “Ahem!”

“What’s with the commotion, old man?” Ayomide was among those who were resting, and she was now forced to get up. She was surprised by how an old man like Brown could still have such a loud voice. It was as if an occult hand had replaced his vocal cords with that of a lion.

“Young lady, cease your idleness and lend an ear, won’t you?” admonished Brown “Idleness is the Devil’s work and all that, I don’t believe I have to make that point once more.”

“Yes, you don’t.” This time the one replying was Shinasi. He himself had been busy carrying all the booze (and food) from the estate’s cellar. “Because you make that point multiple times every day.”

“Young man!” Brown bellowed in greater admonishment. “I wouldn’t have to make that point if you weren’t actively searching for more ways to be idle!” Everyone else seemed ‘idle’ to a man like John Brown. His puritanical work ethic was hard to catch up to for any sane person; the freemen definitely wouldn’t be called ‘idle’ if you were to ask someone else other than old John Brown.

“Calm down, Mister Brown is speaking.” Tubman ended their little spat with this sentence. “You’re only being more idle with your arguments.”

Brown nodded. “You’re right, General Tubman.” He took a deep breath. “There is a time and place for everything.” By now everyone’s attention had drifted, so Brown began with an “Ahem!” to get their attention once more. “We have managed to make a successful retreat from the estate, praise be to the Holy Spirit for guiding us through these turbulent times. I’d like to remind you, that we have not ended anything. No, this is only the beginning of the beginning, and we have only borrowed time until we’ll eventually have to fight once more.”

It was an inevitability that adventurers would soon descend upon these mountains like vultures. Bounties would be put up, rumors would spread, and every downtrodden git looking to make a quick buck would visit Mount Curry. There wasn’t much difference between a monster and a fugitive.

“Which is why I propose we should be quick, quiet and efficient.” Brown took hold of a chair, and raised it on to his shoulders. His old spine protested, but Brown was a protestant against this protest. “Come on now, we should get all of these off the low-ground. We’ll make our refuge up in these mountains, away from prying eyes.”

Seeing the old man begin working was quite effective, a whole lot more effective than his evangelism in fact. Everyone grabbed something or another, and they made their way up the cliff and into safety.

An entire day passed, the freemen busying themselves with evacuating their loot on to higher ground. Their haul was great: Sir Baha had paid his ransom with various tools as Brown had asked, and they were ready to begin construction on a level that was higher than the Stone Age.

“[Wind], [Wind], [Wind]…” Ayomide was tasked with drying wood, as there was no one else who had the ability to cast so much wind magic in a serial fashion. Her days of sitting in the corner of the slave quarter, doing her best to learn how to cast silently, came unexpectedly useful in the field of lumberjacking. “This one’s dry. Tater! You can skip stones later, come here you little brat!”

On Ayomide’s command Tater reluctantly rose up from the ground and took the dried log to the site where a house, if such a building could even be called that, was being erected under Brown’s supervision. He was no stranger to construction, and he had personally surveyed suitable land on the mountains where temporary housing could be constructed. Their population had increased by two dozen or so, meaning that the cave was no more sufficient for housing.

The “housing” itself was quite simple: A few log posts buried to the ground, with even more logs for roofing, reinforced with mud, straw and slime. Brown had noticed how quickly slimes dried up and hardened, which was why making soap from them was possible, so he used it as coating to harden the mud of the houses against the constant rain. He planned on making houses out of brick later, though they’d have to first figure out a more efficient way of firing clay than “putting clay bricks in a covered hole and lighting the hole on fire”.

For the purpose of finding better methods of firing, Baha and his former comrades from the Algernon estate’s copper kilns had gotten to tinkering on that front while the others were busy on construction. They had seen and used kilns a plenty, the problem was that the kilns over at the Algernon estate were larger ones that were constructed out of proper bricks. It wasn’t as easy to adapt such a design when all you had was mud, spit, slime, and no experience in engineering.

Construction in general was quite slow. The freemen were experiences in mining, which was, in a way, the opposite of constructing. Brown’s plans for a more conic design, similar to the ones used by the Native Americans he had observed, failed as the men didn’t have enough experience in construction to reliably construct such a shape without it falling apart. The rain didn’t help either; construction with mud in a rainy climate wasn’t among the greatest of ideas. By the end of the first day, they had managed to construct a half-finished square box.

“Woah, that looks…” Ayomide had come over to inform them that it was lunch time, but she was confronted with a building that looked like it was born as a ruin. “…quite… artistic?” She held her tongue, not wanting to break everyone’s spirits.

“We aren’t making art, young lady.” Brown didn’t look too disappointed. He turned to address the construction crew. “Don’t be dispirited. We are all flawed sinners; it’d be weird if we were constructing masterpieces on the first day. The Lord rewards those who work hard, so let us work hard and be rewarded!”

The men didn’t care much about what the Lord would reward them with, but they did agree that making anything good on the first day was impossible. It was quite odd, after their experience with Sir Algernon, to be led by someone with compassion and (despite what some might think of Brown) common sense.

“No matter what, you people are not going to be working on an empty stomach.” Ayomide was too tired to be motivated. Chanting “[Wind]” countless times had exhausted her greatly. “Come on, Hakim’s gotten something cooked up.”

Nobody was going to object to eating food, so they all went back into the cave where a common area had already been established. The cave now looked quite posh and extravagant as it housed a gold-trimmed dining table with silver cutlery, elaborately carved chairs with silk cushioning, and the finest flatbread baked by master chef Hakim. Coming back to such an environment after busying oneself with mud felt quite odd, though it was a welcome change of pace.

Ayomide jumped onto a chair, groaning in utter ecstasy when she felt herself bury into silk. “My arse has never felt this comfortable…” commented she while closing her eyes.

“Young lady! What did I tell you about such vulgarity?!” Despite Brown’s countless protests, he had been unable to curtail profanity within his camp. Especially words like ‘damn’ or ‘hell’, which meant a whole lot less to the heathens he was now living with. “Such words,” he of course refused to repeat back what Ayomide had just said “are definitely not suitable for a young woman like you to mutter.”

“You’re not my father, old man.” Ayomide gave her usual response.

“I’m thinking of adopting all of you just so you can stop using that excuse.” replied Brown sarcastically. He sat down, having done his duty as a good Christian to warn his fellow men. The construction crew followed, entering in a disorderly line into the cave.

“You’re not having dinner without me, are you?” Shinasi entered the room, having come late as he was busy watching over the periphery. He had not forgotten to bring something to drink for everyone: a small barrel of beer replaced the space in his hands that’d normally carry a shield.

Much to Shinasi’s dismay, Brown had set aside the wine for use during Communion. He had a small Christian community now, with Tubman and Kyauta, and they made sure to gather every seventh day (for there was no such thing as a “Sunday” in Gemeinplatz). Brown, now that their situation was a whole lot less dire and in need of constant daily work to scrape by, had also began observing Sabbath once more as he had regularly did back in the United States where he’d worship all day without pause.

Shinasi set down the barrel, filling a cup for himself, before slowly making his way towards the seat next to Ayomide. He hesitated for a bit, before she patted the empty seat next to him and said “Come on, you were on your legs for the entire day. Why are you so hesitant?” Shinasi took this as an invitation, so he sat down next to her. This made him come face to face with John Brown, who was too busy joining Tubman and Kyauta in prayer to the Lord to notice anything. “Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name,” etc. etc.

With everyone seated came Hakim and Tater, whose hands were full of flatbread and, thanks to the looted pantry of the estate, bowls filled with mashed potatoes. This was quite a plain meal, but it was quite the luxury compared to the scant gruel that they would usually receive as slaves. Spirits were quite high, and the table was filled with lively chatter.

From the despair of chains came the joys of freedom, and freedom was quite enjoyable indeed. Shinasi suddenly raised his cup and shouted. “To liberty!” He had only newly learned of this word, but he had taken quite a liking to it.

“To liberty!”

Countless clay cups clanged together in the far reaches of a mountain in Northern Gemeinplatz.

Chapter 38: Chapter XXXV – Be swift my mouth, to order them!

Chapter Text

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“…you lost men?”

“Yes sir.”

“To a bunch of barely equipped slaves?”

“Yes sir- No, actually, we lost the captain to the cultivators. So not all of us were killed by slaves.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Kim Seong-Min really wanted to send his head crashing down to the desk from the second-hand embarrassment he felt. He sufficed by making his hand crash down on his face, damaging office equipment would only make his financial situation slightly worse, groaning loudly as he had to think about having to set aside more capital for the special anti-fugitive operation.

The mercenary in front of him looked at his boss nervously, looking to see what Kim would do. Kim didn’t move a muscle, his palm firmly planted on to his face, for a whole minute while groaning and adding barely legible curses that’d make his mom throw slippers at him if she was in the room. He then calmed down, took a deep breath, and shooed the mercenary away with his hands. “Get out. I’ll have something for you to do in a day or so.” Kim needed time to think.

“Yes sir!” The mercenary saluted him and left the room. Kim leaned back on his comfy office chair, he was quite a clever young man who knew not to spend money on overly expensive gamer chairs, placing his hands on the back of his head while rocking back and forth. Maybe I should’ve shot that guy to make an example… Kim shook his head at the idea that popped into his head. No, that’d just be a waste of money. I never got why those evil guys shoot their underlings at the slightest hint of incompetence. Kim wouldn’t have gotten far in the world of business if he shot every incompetent son-of-a-donkey’s-hind in his sight. Heck, shooting so many people would probably more than halve the working population of Korea and Gemeinplatz, which’d be quite bad for the economy.

Kim looked outside the window while thinking where he saw the city of Casamonu. It was quite dark outside, like any other city in Gemeinplatz during nighttime. There was no convenient electric or magic lighting, so life at the city disappeared along with the sun itself. Kim had installed a portable generator and a few electric lights into his office to not have to go to sleep along with the city. He was the sort of man who would not sleep until 3 AM, staying up to argue with strangers online.

Arguing… Thinking of his many ongoing forum quarrels, Kim remembered that he was supposed to be thinking about what to do with the fugitives on the mountains. The coalition so carefully built up by Count Leon had sort of dissolved when their first expedition resulted in failure on a comedic scale, meaning that it was every-man-for-himself when it came to eradicating the threat lurking on the mountains.

Adventurers had already rushed to Mount Curry as if it contained not copper but gold, but he was yet to hear any reports of captured slaves. This was quite disconcerting: either the slaves had already escaped, or they were managing to stay hidden in some sort of hidden base. Kim hoped for the former, he didn’t really care what happened outside of his place-of-operation, but the latter meant that the slaves were planning on staying and causing panic. He had to commend them for their ability to cause indirect damage to the economy. Perhaps I should hire some thugs of my own to damage competition in other provinces…

Knock knock! “Who’s there?” Kim’s train of thought, which had slowly inched over to a plan, was derailed by a knock on his door.

Kim heard a familiar voice. “Nirmal, sir.” It was his secretary.

“Come in.” replied Kim, and Nirmal obliged. “What do you have to report on in the middle of the night?”

“It’s about the hand cannons you brought. We have two of them spare now that their users are no longer… working with our company.” Nirmal was carrying around two M1 Garands in his arms as if he was carrying a baby. The secretary was violating every known law of firearm security as he did so, which caused Kim to be slightly worried. “What should we do with them?”

“Just throw them into a stockpile in Gemeinplatz. Having them in Korea would be dangerous.” Even with the might of his Isegye Company behind him, it had been quite a bother to smuggle what little arms they had brought into Korea; Kim would have begun making plans for world domination if he had the ability to bring in more weaponry. Maybe I should move my company over to the United States, is what he thought sometimes, but moving his portal to Gemeinplatz was impossible as far as he knew. “We might need them at some point.”

“You’re not going to hire new mercenaries?” Nirmal was curious as to what Kim was planning.

Kim shook his head. “No, I’ve realized something.” His train of thought had reached its destination during the conversation with Nirmal.

“What’d that be, sir?”

Rising up from his seat, Kim had only one thing to declare: “Sometimes you have to do things yourself.”

20^th of Summer, 5859
Mount Curry, Casamonu / Azdavay

“Praise be to the Our Father in Heaven, it looks beautiful…”

Brown stood alongside a small group of freemen, and in front of them stood semi-spherical structures that one might mistake for some sort of housing if they were to squint their eyes. Their hands and clothes, or what little clothes they had, were covered in mud and grime similar to the houses they were standing in front of.

Straws bunched together, bent and covered in a mix of mud and slime with a wood log in the middle to balance everything out, were the pinnacle of construction technology in Mount Curry. It had taken the construction crew a long week of scaling down ambitions and experimentation to finally arrive at a design which they could construct with their limited skills and resources. Making a structure out of mud wasn’t easy; making a structure out of mud which didn’t slowly melt and disappear in the rain was hard.

Brown eventually planned constructing houses with wood and clay bricks, with all the saws and whatnot they had acquired courtesy of Sir Baha, but that required even more time and skill. What was important right now was to stop having to cram everyone in the cave like they were sardines in a can. These glorified mud tents would have to do for now.

Besides, even these mud tents were somehow better than their old slave accommodations.

“As beautiful as mud can be, anyways.” added Ayomide, who had been tasked as always with drying any material that needed to be dried. Her hands were sore from having to move them around so much while drying.

“You see young lady,” began Brown which prompted Ayomide to get ready for another lecture “I think it is most beautiful that one can make shelter just from the earth which our Maker has provided us so graciously in abundance.”

Yes, oh so gracious is he that we are made to live under mud and rain, added Ayomide silently. She had learned, along with everyone else, to not enter fruitless arguments with John Brown. They had learned that one couldn’t change Brown’s mind about “God” and whatnot.

“Speaking of earth and mud, I wonder what the Bilal and his kilnsters are doing.” Ayomide expertly changed the subject, and Brown followed suit as to not be idle.

“We should check, young lady.” Brown and Ayomide bid farewell to the construction crew as they headed down to where Bilal was conducting experiments to make a kiln that actually worked.

“May the Divine bless us with a working pottery kiln. It willing we shall get a furnace that burns bright and properly processes poetry…” Vaiz was praying for divine intervention while Bilal and his men were contributing by praying and keeping watch over the fire. His hands open in prayer were covered in mud; the priest clearly hadn’t sat by idly to which Brown would reply with something akin to “faith is dead without good works”.

“Cap’, the smoke isn’t going black!” shouted Hakim, who was tasked with keeping watch over the fire. Cooking and pottery weren’t all too dissimilar, especially in the department of fire making.

“Good. Let’s hope that it stays that way. Keep fanning that fire!” replied Bilal, who was commanding everyone else in the area. Black smoke meant that combustion was not complete, which meant that not enough oxygen was entering the kiln which’d hamper efficiency. No one in the area knew what an “oxygen” was, except for Brown and Tubman who themselves weren’t too knowledgeable on the subject. They knew or quickly learned that fire needed an intake of air to burn, the hard part was trying to construct a kiln that could get enough air in while not letting heat out.

With the knowledge above, Bilal and his team had slowly iterated towards a workable convection kiln design.

It was a laughably simple and small design compared to what they had back in the mines, but it was a pretty impressive one considering the process leading up to it: plenty of kilns were shattered, countless pottery botched, and one man had even almost lost their hand when they accidentally touched a heated kiln. At the bottom was the “firebox”, where the fuel (mostly twigs and straw: Bilal had observed that directly putting logs in would cause the pottery to crack from the intense heat) would be placed through a hole opened to the side to allow air to pass through. Atop the firebox sat the chamber where the pottery itself would sit atop a column separating it from directly meeting the fire.

The construction itself was simple, but the hardest part was the material from which the kiln was constructed from. The area of Mount Curry which found themselves in had soil with lots of clay, which tended to crack by itself when it was used to make such a large structure. After trying different materials to strengthen the clay, the kiln crew found that adding high amounts of sand could help the kiln survive.

“Hakim, how’s the pottery faring?” asked Bilal. He was happy to see that their kiln had successfully survived its maiden voyage. Now came for the real test: successfully firing pottery.

“Cap’ it’s…” Hakim took hold of a vase sitting inside the kiln, using a sword to grab it by a handle and drag it towards him. Out came a perfectly intact piece of pottery, much to the jubilee of everyone in the area. “Oh! It’s… a vase!”

“Praise be!” exclaimed Vaiz as he moved his hands near the vase, not touching it as it was still hot as Hell, as if he was blessing it. “Thank ye for rewarding our hard work, o’ great one!”

“Thank the Lord, the King of Kings, and the Holy Spirit who leads us!” Brown joined in the festivities with a blessing of His own. “Oh, what a great day this is!”

Ayomide silently watched as a gang of fully-grown adult men gathered around a piece of pottery and prayed around it with great jubilee.

Today, on the 20th of Summer, 5859, Bilal and his crew entered the New Stone Age (a.k.a. the Neolithic Age).

Shoutouts to Ancient Pottery for this great guide which helped me greatly during this episode. Sorry if I went a bit overboard with the technical details in this episode - I do love engineering and whatnot, so I couldn't help but prattle on about kilns.

Chapter 39: Chapter XXXVI – Be swift my folk, to organize ourselves!

Chapter Text

23^rd of Summer, 5859
Mount Curry, Casamonu / Azdavay

Civilization, the human kind that we know of, has an interesting property in that its growth is exponential. If one were to jump one millennium from 50,000 BC to 49,000 BC, one would see the same scenery: humans barely figuring out how to light a fire. But if one were to jump the same distance from 1000 AD to 2000 AD, one would switch from gallant knights on horseback to gallant thermonuclear warheads on nuclear submarines.

Of course, Brown wasn’t going to be making such a huge leap; constructing nuclear weaponry to rain righteous hellfire on slavers was unfortunately quite hard due to the fact that Brown didn’t even know what a “radiation” was. Not to mention that there’s a limit to exponentiality when all one has is a bunch of miners turned kiln workers. Nonetheless…

“Praise be to the Lord!”

“The Greatest hath delivered us with liquid of the earth!”

Brown, and his small congregation next to the larger congregation of Vaiz, were quite excited as progress itself in liquid form melted down to a mold of clay. From their newly found cradle in the Neolithic, the people of Mount Curry had launched themselves into…

“Copper! Sweet copper, O’ Lord!”

…as announced by Harriet Tubman herself, they had launched themselves into the Chalcolithic Age (a.k.a. the Copper Age) in record pace (3 days, compared to the thousands of years needed by the average human society on Earth).

Such progress may not seem grand to those reading this on their magical computation devices. To a bunch of abolitionists looking for any sort of advantage, the manufacture of copper was quite a big deal.

Unlike the stone which Brown and Ayomide had fashioned spears out of, copper was a metal which was much more versatile. One couldn’t for example, unless one was especially brave or foolish, fashion a bowl out of stone; one could fashion all sorts of bowls out of copper. Helmets, random bits of fashionable plate that the adventurers might call armor, nails etc. all opened up thanks to the wondrously malleable metal that was copper.

“That’s quite a good spear tip if I do say so myself.” Bilal raised the clay mold with the molten copper poured into it as the onlookers watched with pride. Ayomide was at the back, wondering whether Mount Curry was slowly driving the faithful folk to insanity, for she couldn’t find any reasonable explanation for so much zealotry over copper of all things. Sure, she was happy that she wouldn’t have to eat off of wet, muddy bowls, but did that really call for such ceremony?

After having sufficiently stared at their comrade’s success, the crowd around the kilns dispersed once more to busy themselves with work, work currently entailing constructing half-spheres out of mud and foraging / hunting food. Not quite the most glorious or exciting of tasks, but one had to do what one had to do in order to survive in Mount Curry.

Returning from his tasks to take a break was Shinasi, who had been overlooking the path that led up to the fugitive settlement. Of course, the freemen had made sure that they weren’t visible from the path itself. Their settlement was built up the cliff, the same one that lead up to the cave that had sheltered Brown, behind higher sections of mountain. Even the smoke from the burning kilns was quite hard to spot from the path.

“Oh, it’s Mister Shinasi.” commented one little Tater, stating the obvious upon observing the former adventurer approaching. “Any trouble on that path?”

“I’d be screaming my lungs out if there was.” replied Shinasi, who clearly wasn’t screaming out anything. “Seen seven adventurers on the path today, though they of course didn’t intend to scale the cliff.” He slowly and lazily yawned. It was quite boring being idle. “I’ll be hitting the hay now; it’s been a long day of doing nothing.”

“G’night then.” Tater waved, before a sinister smile appeared on his face. “Good luck with your miss.”

“Shut up, kid.” said Shinasi, dismissing Tater by quickly walking away from the boy towards his newly built dwelling. He hadn’t figured out which was worse: the lodgings at the Adventurer’s Guild or the lodgings over at the Brown Mud Guild? Looking over the mud house that he was standing in front of, Shinasi couldn’t help but compare and evaluate his situation.

Doubt tended to beset him, as it always does to those who dare take a step forward. He was a fugitive now, no better than a fugitive slave except for the color of his skin. He had most likely slain people, actual living people like him, in the ambush. There was still a chance for him to turn back, return to normal adventuring and forget about all of this abolitionist nonsense. Sure, he had gained somewhat of an ideological basis for being against nobility and slavery, nor did he see the darkskins and demi-humans as inferior or deserving of slavery. Joining an abolitionist cause however, it felt like a lost cause to fight against an entire empire, especially when his own liberty wasn’t the liberty at stake.

Shinasi violently shook his head, as if his own thoughts were flies that were buzzing around his head that he wanted to scare away. I should really go to sleep. He approached the mud house, only to be interrupted by someone else coming out of the door.

“Oh, you’re back.” It was Ayomide, with hands ever so muddy.

Shinasi didn’t know what to say for a second, his brain was too full with needless thought. He eventually recovered enough to greet Ayomide back, and point out the elephant in the mud house. “My job’s done for the day. Also, why are you in my house?”

“My own hands were involved in building this one, so I think I have some sort of right to be in here.” replied Ayomide casually. “Besides, I’m a free woman, aren’t I? I can do whatever I want.”

Shinasi sighed. “I know that, but freedom doesn’t exactly entail being free to break the law.”

Upon hearing this reasonably reasonable point, Ayomide sufficed by shrugging. “What law? We don’t have any laws here, unless you want to listen to Brown and Vaiz preach about ‘laws of the Lord’ and whatnot.”

“Huh?” Shinasi paused to think. They didn’t have any laws, not in Mount Curry at the least, now that he thought about it. “Maybe I should ask the old man to begin prosecuting criminals who break and enter. Ahem,” He realized only now that he had been sent off track “legality besides, what were you doing in my house?

“I was just checking to see if the house was struc… What was that word? Struc-… struk-chu-a-lee safe.” Ayomide took a peek back at the house with a hint of pride. “The walls were filled to the brim with water. You’d be drowning in your sleep if I didn’t dry its insides.”

“Thank you, for not letting me drown.” Shinasi wished that he had the convenient abilities of a magic hairdryer. He wanted to give a compliment to Ayomide, but he couldn’t find one that wasn’t banal, ingenuine, or embarrassing to say out loud (most of them were in the third category). In the end Shinasi went with something simple that might not even be classified as a compliment. “Must be tiring to go through each and every one of these.”

“It’s fine. I only inspected yours, our guard needs to have a good sleep after all.” Ayomide smiled ever so slightly. “Can’t have stray adventurers coming up to catch fugitives now, can we?”

Shinasi replied by nervously laughing at the jab. “Yeah, having none of that would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

Ayomide couldn’t help but pause at the thought. “No adventurers to hunt us down. What a world that’d be.” She paused when she heard Brown calling out to a group of people. “Oh, I think it’s time for the council again.” The revolutionary catgirl took a few steps towards the cave, only to stop once she noticed that Shinasi wasn’t following her. “Aren’t you going to join?”

“No,” Shinasi yawned more to make his point. “I really need to go to sleep. Don’t have much to speak about there anyways; all this politics is way above my head. I’ll be going along with whatever it is that Mount Curry decides.”

“I see.” Ayomide approached Shinasi to give him a pat on the back and another smile, albeit this one was a bit bigger. There was an awkward moment of silence while Ayomide thought of what to say. “Good… night to you.” Her hand was still on Shinasi’s back, the awkward moment drawing longer and even more awkward by every second. Eventually Ayomide settled on not speaking too much, separating from Shinasi with a silent wave of the hand.

“Good night to you too.” replied Shinasi, meekly raising hands to wave. He had been paralyzed in the moment due to one obvious reason. She stood way too close; I could even hear her breathe! The awkward young man he was, Shinasi cursed himself for not having said something like “Do you have anything else to say?” or “So, do you like being this close to me?”. Damn this cattish woman and damn the coward whose interest lies in her!

It seemed that Ayomide was skilled in casting spells of the mundane variety, at least on Shinasi. Or, all the more likely, Shinasi’s magic resistance was too low (which was quite the problem for a tank like him).

I should really go to sleep. Sleep makes everything better. Having figured out the secret for happiness, sleep, Shinasi entered the mud hut to find another surprise: On the floor was not straw, the current standard of bedding in Mount Curry and in most of Gemeinplatz, but a bear pelt laid on top of straw, which was quite the luxury. Thinking about it, I haven’t seen any man-bears in a while; we should’ve spotted plenty in Mount Curry. Their fur could be quite useful if we could.

His thoughts on the man-bear ecosystem aside, Shinasi wasn’t unhappy to receive some extra bedding. What had gotten him, as Brown would say with his fancy and big words, discombobulated was who this pelt might belong to: Ayomide had been wearing the waistcoat-and-pants combination since summer had arrived with a striking lack of bear pelt. He turned to the door, intending to ask Ayomide whether sleeping on her clothes was okay, before he realized that the one who left this little (or large, considering how bear pelts usually are) gift was Ayomide herself. One usually didn’t have to ask the giver of a present whether it was okay to use said present.

No use thinking much about it now. Shinasi was too tired to be flustered; he was tired enough to fall like freshly cut timber face-first on to the bed. Huh, what’s this smell? It’s kind of familiar. He didn’t have to think much to realize that he had heard the same pleasant smell a moment ago when Ayomide had been so close to her. It felt like she was right next to him.

…damn this cattish woman and damn the coward whose interest lies in her! Once more Shinasi thought the same thing. He eventually drifted into another world, to the land of dreams which awaits all those who heed the call of sleep. Tonight’s sleep was, compared some of the more luxury accommodations Shinasi had acquired during times of financial luck, the most pleasant that had experienced.

Chapter 40: Chapter XXXVII – Sheep in the midst of wolves.

Chapter Text

Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves: be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves.

- Matthew 10:16

Like they had done so many a time before, the freemen of Mount Curry had gathered. Not to throw a party or anything of that sort, there wasn’t enough of anything to throw even the lamest of parties. Cramped together in and outside the cave, some sitting on the looted couches while others preferred not to seat themselves as the silken cushions were unbearably comfortable for them. Small chitter and little chatter travelled around the room while the freemen concentrated around the area, forming a dangerously high concentration of volatile liberty which was ready to spontaneously combust and engulf every oppressor in its radius.

The crowd itself had gathered into a donut-shaped circle, this donut definitely not being edible unless one was a cannibal. In the middle was no one, on the periphery was everyone discussing with each other about what they wanted to talk about. This wasn’t exactly a planned style of discussion, far from anything you might see in professional debate and closer to something you might see on (insert contemporary social media site here to make fun of). One part of the donut got louder, another got quieter, a far-off piece was busy playing hopscotch… It was pure chaos distilled into a tasty donut shape.

…Why am I thinking so much about donuts? Ayomide’s train of thought was derailed by a craving for doughy circles covered in criminally copious amounts of sugar. She had first seen them in Jacob’s maid café; Ayomide had of course never gotten a chance to taste one despite her attempts to break out at night and raid the kitchen. The revolutionary catgirl wizard made a mental note to try a donut if she ever got a chance to. Perhaps Hakim could bake something like that? Ayomide didn’t know how sugar was produced, and whether it was even possible to produce it here in Mount Curry. Was sugar a plant product? A kind of rock, akin to salt? The product of an animal? She truly didn’t know, and her ignorance infuriated her. Perhaps Brown knew where sugar came from; if he had sugar back in Awmereighka was another thing that was unclear to Ayomide.

“Ye who art in this council, ladies and gentlemen,” boomed out the voice of Brown. The freemen felt sort of awkward due to being referred to ‘ladies and gentlemen’ considering that they were considered the lowest rung of society. “If you have discussed your own matters enough, then with the Lord as our witness I’d like it if we could begin discussing our own matters.”

“Captain Brown.” One certain Bilal came onto the scene after announcing his presence. He marched in the middle of the crowd-made donut to address everyone in the scene. “I don’t think I need to report on how we’re doing in the kilns.”

“Yes, it’s impossible not to hear you all pray over pottery.” replied Ayomide from the crowd, which prompted a few laughs except for Brown, Tubman and Vaiz who weren’t pleased with the heathen’s comment.

“Ahem, just as our most esteemed Lady Orange reported.” replied Bilal, who wasn’t pleased either. “We’ve sorted the kilns out. However, as we found out during our work, we have something else that needs sorting out.” He pointed towards his own body, which was naked except for his baggy pants that were barely holding together. This sort of attire was repeated among the freemen who weren’t exactly able to follow the latest trends in fashion.

“Clothes?” shouted one member of the audience, and Bilal nodded in response. “Of course, it’s clothes! We can barely get by during the summer, with everyone of us being in the cold highlands, not to even think of the dreadful winter that’ll eventually come.”

“Indeed, winter does tend to come after summer.” stated Brown, whose statement was as obvious as cabbages being green. He had meant it as a sort of allegorical statement, about how they should not be feeling easy after their victorious escape, but this allegory ended up flying over everyone so highly that it might as well have ended up crashing into another planet.

“…Y-yes, the seasons do tend to do that, captain.” Bilal paused for a moment after having confirmed Brown, unsure of how to continue his speech after such a sentence.

“If it is clothes that you look for,” Ayomide came to the rescue of Bilal. “We’ve just conveniently acquired funds thanks to our generous patrons.”

Bilal’s reply to this proposition was quick. “Then let’s go to the nearest town. Surely, they’ll be understanding when a bunch of darkskins go shopping for clothes. Nor will they be looking out for fugitives after a mine full of slaves took flight.”

“White folk to tend to have their eyes peeled wide open after they hear of fugitives.” commented Tubman, standing among the audience, drawing from her experience as an operator in the Underground Railroad. “You don’t want to be seen wandering by yourself.”

“The most important part is ‘not be seen wandering by yourself’, as I think General Tubman can attest.” Brown had already been scheming a few things, and Bilal had brought the perfect opportunity for him to bring them up.

“You’re right, Captain Brown.” Tubman could see where he was going. “A good ally, a good excuse and a good attitude can let you reach forbidden lands. Be wise as a serpent, and you can even walk as a sheep in the midst of wolves.”

Brown couldn’t keep himself from seizing this opportunity to quote the Bible. “‘Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves: be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves.’. That’s an excellent quote from the Good Book, one that I believe is imperative to keep in mind.”

The old man, famous for being harmless as a dove, added Ayomide silently.

“I’ll be getting a team together to sort the clothes problem out, along with anything else you may need our funds to be used on.” concluded Brown. “Get together a shopping list, a list of items to buy, and we’ll figure something out.” He had added the definition of a ‘shopping list’ just in case the locals hadn’t developed the concept of one, not aware of the fact that shopping lists were about as old as history itself.

With his complaint having been heard, Bilal blended back into the crowd. Next up was Tubman, who was the only otherworlder, other than Brown, that the freemen liked. “I’ve also noticed that something has been missing.” The freemen waited for her to point toward something like Bilal, but she didn’t point to anything. “This group and this place, I don’t think we have a name for them.”

The freemen looked at each other, trying to remember if they had an official name for themselves. The discussion went on for a minute, before consensus was reached: No, the freemen in Mount Curry didn’t have a name for themselves.

“Is it that important, old lady?” Ayomide looked relaxed and quite unbothered. “I don’t think having a name for our little organization is important.”

“There’s no harm in choosing one.” replied Bilal. “Hmm…” Nothing popped into his mind. Nobody really had any experiences with abolitionist groups, meaning that they also didn’t have any idea on naming schemes.

“How about… naming this place, uhm, Liberty Cave? Libertycave? Something like that.” said Ayomide, giving the first thing to pop into her mind.

“No, that honestly sounds lame. How about…” Discussion suddenly lit up amongst the crowd, sending waves of name suggestions around the donut. This question, which Tubman would think to be quite trivial, ate up the rest of the day even as the freemen separated from each other for the night.

Chapter 41: Chapter XXXVIII – Folk in the midst of planning.

Chapter Text

24^rd of Summer, 5859
Libertycave, Mount Curry

Trees. They’re quite the common sight, unless you’re in the Arctic. Or the desert. Or the tundra. Or in the middle of the ocean. Or in a city. Thinking about it, trees aren’t a common sight at all for a lot of people. Thankfully, Gemeinplatz in its northern parts were chock full of trees that even the American pioneers couldn’t even begin considering cutting it all down. For miles the ocean of green stretched, ready to be prime fuel in case some dolt decided to start a forest fire.

Up far away from the forest, where the trees got coniferous and the lands treacherous, sat the men of the now-reformed League of Gileadites. Most of them hadn’t actually known anything about Gilead until Brown told them the story of the brave Israelites, not on an exodus but the Exodus, who gathered to face their foe on the mountain – such a story was relatable to those who were currently stuck doing the same thing. Pharaoh or emperor, it mattered not when their enemy was the same enemy that has befallen man since the beginning of civilization: tyranny and barbarity. Some had even begun referring to the “emperor” as a “pharaoh” as an insult which, while probably not a crime punishable by death since not many in Gemeinplatz knew what a pharaoh was, would still bring quite the shock to the average citizen of the Gemeinplatz Empire to see the highest office in the land being so openly and wantonly insulted.

However, there was someone who hadn’t become a member of the League yet. Someone who had been asleep during the discussion.

“Shinasi! Wake up, you sack of potatoes!” Ayomide came into the room, banging a pot and a pan to create noise that sounded like Satan’s own brand of music.

“Mmh… Argh…” The noises coming out of Shinasi were not ones that showed contentment with being waken up in such a vocal manner. He swore to beat up whoever was making all that noise into a pulp, before he opened his eyes and found that the one making such cacophony was Ayomide. “Eh? What’s happening?”

“Good morning.” Ayomide finally dropped the pan and pot, and silence reigned over Libertycave once more.

“Good… morning? What’s the noise?” Shinasi looked around him, eyes still half-closed, to find that there didn’t seem to be any trouble going on.

“We’re going on an expedition to Casamonu, and Brown needs your help.” She pointed to a small group outside, a group that included Brown.

“Huh? What’s with the sudden expedition?” Shinasi was calmer now. Travelling somewhere else instead of standing at the same spot everyday seemed better to him. Plus, knowing that they were not in danger probably helped.

“Yesterday, when you were asleep…” Ayomide quickly related the events of yesterday to Shinasi “…and Brown has gathered together a few people to go on a shopping spree. Come on, get up.” She extended her hand towards Shinasi, whose body was still tucked under the bear fur.

Shinasi extended his hand, not expecting much from a catgirl who was so short and stout. He was surprised when she managed to pull him to his feet in one pull. “How the…”

Ayomide tilted her head. “Hm? Why’re you surprised?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to be this strong.” Shinasi let go of her hand as it felt a bit awkward.

“I run around, carry logs, do magic…” Ayomide rolled up her sleeve to flex her muscles, which weren’t much thanks to a lack of protein in Mount Curry. Her arm contained more flab than muscle. “I’m not like those lightskin ladies who look as if they’re walking twigs.”

“I guess teapots are better than twi-” Shinasi shut himself up after having made an insensitive comment, and he closed his eyes while expecting retribution. He was surprised to hear a hearty chuckle from Ayomide.

“Right? It’d be quite bad if I, let’s say, snapped in half.” Ayomide added a sarcastic shrug to her own comment. “Then what’d you do without an easy bounty to snatch?”

“I don’t know, it’d be quite the hard time for poor old me.” replied Shinasi. He added a fake sigh of worry for comedic effect. Suddenly he heard Brown calling out for him, thought the old man was far too away for his voice to sound coherent.

Ayomide looked towards the general direction of Brown. “Come on, let’s not keep the old man waiting.” She took a step towards Brown’s direction while beckoning for Shinasi to come alongside her. “Otherwise, he’ll be giving us a lengthy lecture on being punctual and whatnot.”

Shinasi found Ayomide’s point to be quite poignant, so he followed her without further question. He passed by the camp, which had quite vibrant thanks to the addition of the mud huts. Now that people were not huddling around the cave doing their best not to freeze their posteriors, they were much more energetic and hopeful about their situation. A few fires, carefully kept weak as to not be too noticeable from afar, lit up while the people of Libertycave prepared their breakfast.

Shinasi could hear his stomach growl; he had been unceremoniously dragged into a meeting without a chance to get anything. He was thinking of getting something himself when Ayomide suddenly paused. After a minute of talking to someone tending to a fire, she got a piece of shepherd reed bread. “Catch.” The small piece gently flew towards Shinasi. He managed to nick it in time, though such a slow throw from such a small distance wasn’t the hardest to catch in the first place.

Shinasi blankly stared at the bread for a second, before he realized that it was meant for him. “Ah? Thank you.” He quickly chewed down what small amount there was in his hand. It was enough to stop him feeling hungry at the least.

With his hunger satiated, the duo then quickly marched on to meet the old man. He had made himself a makeshift war room from the remains of the mansion: a fine mahogany chair inlaid with gold and silver held up a map of the local area also looted from the mansion. There were no chairs around, for Brown found it impossible to sit around while planning and speaking. He also found it impossible to sit while praying, but that was beside the point at the present moment. The old man is awfully mobile for someone so, well, old, thought Ayomide upon seeing him make rounds around the table.

“Young man! Where have you been?” Brown seemed to not be too angry, though thinking about it Shinasi realized that he hadn’t seen Brown be genuinely angry before. He was oft disappointed, yes, but he wasn’t wont to anger. “The sun has been up for a good hour or two now. One should wake up before the sun does.”

“Sorry old man.” Having sufficiently excused himself, Shinasi intended to quickly drift to the main topic at hand. “So, did you need my help?” He took a look at the map on the table. “I can’t read the map, or anything for that matter, if that’s what you need help with.”

“You can’t read?” Shinasi was surprised to see that the one protesting his statement of illiteracy was Ayomide. “I thought that adventurers were supposed to be literate. What, with all the quest-reading and whatnot you have to do.”

Shinasi was taken aback by Ayomide’s disappointment. “Yeah, adventurers do tend to be literate.” He felt like an uneducated oaf now, which was definitely not a feeling of the pleasant kind. “But all the reading work was done by my group’s leader, Shakir, so I never got to learn all the letters.”

Brown suddenly interrupted Shinasi. “Ahem. If you’d let me speak, please.” Now he looked to be slightly annoyed after having been ignored. “I didn’t call you here for purposes of literacy. I have need of you in other departments, mainly navigation and information.” He pointed at the map that still sat on the desk. “The map only contains the locations of places and their names. I can’t exactly know what lies around those parts, and I assumed that you might have made your way towards Casamonu at some point in your life.” He extended his gaze towards Ayomide. “Perhaps he might help me if he isn’t preoccupied with you?” Ayomide met Brown’s gaze, one of fatherly admonishment refined through having had twenty children.

“I’d be happy to help.” Shinasi stepped forward to ease the situation. “I was actually born in Casamonu, so I’ve travelled back to the city plenty of times to meet up with family.” He took a quick look at the map, realizing the odd situation they were in. “Of course, I haven’t had to travel there from the mountain before.” The former adventurer then took a closer look, trying to orient himself with the place he was in. He couldn’t read the labels, but what was a mountain and what wasn’t a mountain was pretty obvious when looking at the map. After asking Brown to read aloud the names of a few local settlements, Shinasi managed to connect the locations he had visited before with the locations on the map. He then drew attention to a thick line that ran towards Curry, before shying away from the mountain itself and curving towards Casamonu. “This is the main road, the one that connects Casamonu and Zon’guldac. We should head for there if we want safe travel.”

Ayomide didn’t look too pleased with the proposition. “Umm… You mean that there are a lot of people on the road?” She paused for a moment, hoping that someone would notice the obvious flaw in such an idea. Nobody seemed to, so she continued “I don’t think having a bunch of fugitives travel on the main road is a safe idea. Unless…” her eyes shifted between Brown and Shinasi “…you two want to go alone? Can you really carry enough supplies for everyone here amongst the two of you?”

Shinasi closed his eyes to think. Brown didn’t, opting to reply instead. “Young lady, you don’t need to travel as fugitives.”

This reply only served to confuse Ayomide more. “I don’t think we can change our status, old man.”

Brown had another idea. “Well…” He smiled upon realizing a chance to insert a bit of impromptu Bible study “This is the part where we have to be wise as serpents, and slip in.”

Chapter 42: Chapter XXXIX – Men in the midst of trees.

Chapter Text

27^th of Summer, 5859
Outskirts of Mount Curry, Casamonu

Trees. They’re quite the common sight, unless you’re in Hell. Or Heaven. Or a metropolis. Or space. Or in a black hole. Thinking about it, trees aren’t a common sight at all for a lot of people. Thankfully, Gemeinplatz in its northern parts were chock full of trees that mass deforestation would be impossible without an Industrial Revolution of sorts. For miles the ocean of green stretched and… Hey, haven’t we done this sort of intro to a chapter before?

In the midst of the countless trees lay a small party lead by one certain individual named John Brown, radical abolitionist, novice soap maker and non-conspicuous old man. “We’ve all memorized our lines, right?”

“Yes, old man.” Flanking old Brown was Ayomide, radical catgirl abolitionist, former maid café worker and present log drying expert. “I have those lines drilled so deep into me that I’m afraid I’ll never be able to pluck them out.”

“I bet I’ll be reciting these when I’m drunk.” Flanking the flanking Ayomide was young Shinasi, former winesop / oenophile adventurer turned not-so-radical abolitionist human tank. “At least it’d be better than me letting the beans spill when my mouth gets loose.”

This odd trio was travelling in single file through a small desire path that cut a clear line through the forest from Mount Curry. Clearly this path hadn’t been used much in recent times: errant stones and plants had worked tirelessly to make traversing the path harder than it should be. They all had to move in sync as any of them stopping made the person behind them stop completely, like what Brown decided to do at the moment Shinasi talked about being drunk. He stopped, looking at the young man directly. “Young man, we have no room in the budget for any drinks. You need not worry about spilling any beans without volition.” Brown made sure to especially stress the part about volition. “Let’s just say that I have some experience with those who spill beans with volition.” A certain Hugh Forbes, Brown would definitely curse his name if cursing others wasn’t a sin, came to his mind when uttering these words.

Shinasi had to stop as Brown stopped, which made him felt a bit stressed out when he was stuck so close between an old man and a catgirl. “Of course, captain, I’m an adventurer of my word who follows the adventurer’s code closely: don’t kill steal, have loot sharing enabled, and make sure you don’t accidentally use public chat instead of party chat.”

Brown looked at Shinasi as if the young man had spoken in Proto-Sino-Tibetan to him. “Have loot sharing enabled? May I ask what that exactly means?” He began walking once more, allowing Shinasi to walk and talk.

Shinasi fell silent for a second, not out of fear but out of needing to think after such an odd question of language. “Huh…” It wasn’t everyday that he had to explain adventurer lingo to a man who was completely otherworldly in understanding.

Ayomide decided to butt in as well. “Oh, I’m very curious as well.” She hadn’t exactly understood much in the oddly worded adventurer’s code either. Sure, Ayomide had heard adventurer lingo in the maid café before, but she was definitely unable to understood what they meant in any usable context.

The young adventurer found more motivation to exposit now that he had an opportunity to impress his catgirl comrade with his big load of knowledge. “You see, these were terms brought over by the first otherworlders. Apparently, back on Örf, many otherworlders would engage in an activity known as an ‘ememoharpiji’.” He sounded surprisingly intellectual when expositing needless information.

Brown did his best to spell out the ungodly word that Shinasi had uttered. “M-M-O-R-P-G?” He managed to land close enough with his Yankee understanding of phonology. “What might that mean?”

Shinasi was quick in satiating Brown’s curiosity. “It apparently meant something like ‘massively multi-player on-line role-playing game’ in a language spoken on Örf.”

“Massively multiplayer online roleplaying game?” Brown quickly translated this monster of a word into English so that he could break it down in a much easier way. “That in English would be… massively multi-player on-line roleplaying game.” A spark lit up in Brown’s old brain. “The abbreviation of that would be M.M.O.R.P.G., which sounds awfully similar to how that word is spelled in your language.” Having completed his dive into linguistics, John Brown came to the obvious conclusion. “I think that those otherworlders and I might have spoken the same language.”

“You don’t say!” The young adventurer clearly didn’t seem to be too shocked by this revelation as Brown was. “Many otherworlders come from Awmereighka, so I wouldn’t be surprised if the old otherworlders were Awmereighkan as well. That being said...” Shinasi’s eyes seemed to gleam more with curiosity now. “I’m guessing you participated in ememoharpiji as well? I want to hear how it was from a genuine otherworlder!” Grand clans and guilds, massive dungeon raids, thousands of participants… Shinasi had always heard rumors about how massive an ememoharpiji was.

Then came Brown to unceremoniously erase any and all glimmer of hope from poor Shinasi’s eyes. “I actually have no idea what this so-called MMORPG is, young man.” Having died exactly hundred and nineteen years before the release of the first multi-user dungeon (MUD), the aptly named MUD1, didn’t leave much chance for Brown to learn what an MMO or an RPG was.

“We don’t call him an ‘old man’ for nothing.” added Ayomide. “He seems to know nothing that the other otherworlders know by heart.”

“I suspect that is because the other Awmereighkans come from a completely different age compared to me.” Brown was still intrigued by the prospect of a 21^st century USA potentially existing at the same time as the 19^th century USA that he was ungraciously expelled from. Both of them somehow existing at the same time was the most ‘rational’ way he had managed to resolve the question of how he and Jacob could meet from more than a century away. Even then, this answer was quite unsatisfactory to him, but how could a 19^th century man even manage to begin thinking of such topics? The old man simply lacked the words needed to describe the unreal situation he was observing. “Oh, what hath God wrought…” muttered Brown upon such contemplation. The alien reality that he found himself had managed to defeat Brown a long time ago.

Shinasi decided to let Brown be left existentially flabbergasted while he continued talking “As for what the terms I talked about mean, ‘have loot sharing enabled’ means that you should equally share your loot between your party members, and ‘make sure you don’t accidentally use public chat instead of party chat’ means that private manners should remain private.”

“I think you forgot the one about ‘kill stealing’.” reminded Ayomide.

“Right, that one is a bit harder to get for outsiders.” Shinasi continued on to explain what might be the most important article of the adventurer’s code “That means that you should leave the killing of an enemy to the person who has dealt the most damage to it so that they can get the XP that they deserve.”

“Ekspee?” Brown was honestly getting tired of all the weird abbreviations. “What might that mean, young man?”

“It stands for ‘experience points’ in the Awmereighkan language if I remember correctly.” The one to reply was Ayomide. “That Jacob always loved to brag about his experience points to customers. He and his former party members apparently engaged in an activity called ‘grinding’ to raise these points.” She added a shrug. “For what reason I don’t know.”

Shinasi was more than happy to exposit even more. “You see, these experience points drop from everything you hunt down. This XP is some sort of magic energy that improves your strength when you collect enough of it, and those who engaged in ememoharpiji would strive to collect as much as they could to ‘level up’ and reach new heights.”

“These ‘points’ are supposed to ‘drop’ from everything you slay?” asked Brown, who had done a fair bit of slime hunting in Gemeinplatz. “I’ve never seen anything unusual drop that I could call an ‘experience point’.”

“Oh? I thought that otherworlders could see them.” Now was Shinasi’s turn to be surprised. “Apparently these XP points were visible on Örf, but no one in Gemeinplatz has visually seen them like the otherworlders describe.” His mind went to a rumor he had heard on the playground as a child. “I even once heard that the otherworlders could even open up a ‘window’ to look up their ‘stats’ gained by leveling up.”

“I can open up windows, young man, but I talk about the ordinary windows that are tangible and make some sort of sense.” Gamer lingo was most enigmatic to John Brown. He really wished that he could meet a 21^st century otherworlder who’d explain all this nonsense to him.

“Well, maybe it’s just an old man thing.” Ayomide simply brushed off all of Brown’s existential crises thusly. “People’s senses tend to dull as they get older.”

“Young lady, you need to learn how to respect your elders!” Brown would definitely need to set up a proper lecture, with an appropriate number of quotes from the Bible and ancient Greek classics, to teach her how old people didn’t deserve to be dismissed just because they couldn’t sense some ‘experience points’.

“Sorry old man.” Contrary to Brown’s observations, Ayomide wasn’t trying to be disrespectful. She simply had lacked any sort of upbringing that had her interact with any elders, for old slaves tended to be discarded long before they reached their 60s like Brown did, and the rude old customers (who were also oft the most lecherous despite also being the ones who were oft most religious) in the maid café hadn’t exactly inspired a healthy sense of ‘respect for the elderly’ within her.

“Anyways,” Shinasi deliberately entered the scene once more to dispel the lightly tense atmosphere “adventurers still hunt for XP, despite the experience points in Gemeinplatz being invisible or intangible.”

“Wait, you can’t see or feel the XP?” Ayomide’s eyebrow was raised up high with skepticism. “So, you believe in a force that you can’t properly observe? How can you tell if experience points are real?” She made a simple comment that could be made about many beliefs in and outside of Gemeinplatz.

Shinasi scratched his head. “I mean… I do feel stronger after defeating a foe, which means that I must be gaining experience points.” Then he made an argument that was simply flawless in its nature. “Hey, all the otherworlders and adventurers can have been wrong about experience points, right? I’m just a newbie adventurer who hasn’t felt the true strength of XP yet.” Simply put, due to an absence of MMORPG-like mechanics in Gemeinplatz making XP actually real, ‘experience points’ had become something akin to a pagan belief practiced amongst adventurers. Before Brown could interrupt him with further questions, Shinasi suddenly stopped walking. “Oh, here’s a place that we could grind for XP now.” He pointed towards a small divergence in the path, which slowly got wider and cleaner as it approached it.

“Hmm? Where would that lead us to, young man?” Brown was quite curious as to what ‘grinding’ might entail.

“It’s a dungeon, the Minor Curry Dungeon to be exact.” His adventurer instincts made him take a few steps towards the place. “I’ve been here plenty of times with my old party. Wanna take a look?”

Chapter 43: Chapter XL – Men in the midst of troubles.

Chapter Text

Dungeons. A stable in RPGs ever since the aptly named Dungeons & I-Don’t-Want-the-Pinkertons-Coming-After-Me-So-I-Won’t-Infringe-On-Copyright (which, funnily enough, the [in]famous Pinkertons were established 9 years before old John Brown got isekai’d; they’d later act as personal bodyguards for Abraham Lincoln and conduct acts of espionage against the Confederates). Places of endless loot, confusing map layouts, and grindy enemies that refuse to die which makes one feels like they’re crawling in the hellish dungeon (hence why it is called a ‘dungeon crawl’, or so this humble author thinks).

Of course, in a land like Gemeinplatz, dungeons are also aplenty. Scattered around convenient spots on the map, the humble adventurer may be found in their natural habitat loitering around these places. These shrines of loot beckon these adventurers, as if a mermaid singing a sweet song packed into the form of an underground structure, and many lose their lives (in terms of time wasted and actual lives lost, but mostly wasted time) in ‘the grind’ while looking for that one legendary drop that’ll grant them salvation from the endless monotony of running the same dungeon over and over again.

Thus Shinasi was here, having been called upon the Minor Curry Dungeon and her equally minor loot, in front of the entrance with the oddest party he had ever seen. Brown, Ayomide, Shinasi, it was quite the hodgepodge of names who were all united in curiosity. As for the entrance itself, contrary to the remarkable nature of the names present in front of it, it was quite unremarkable. It was a gate of stone, looking ancient while not having somehow crumbled into dust,

One noticeable detail was that some of the stones of the dungeon had rusted, twisted bars of metal sticking out from them, with little indentations on them that looked like some sort of fashionable avant-garde pattern. Brown was quite interested in this odd metal, and he tried to break it off to no avail. The metal was quite strong, even in its rusted form. Brown turned to Shinasi for help “What is this? Do you have any idea, young man?”

“It’s what the fellows back at the Adventurer’s Guild would call ‘dungeonium’.” Shinasi did his best to grab some for himself, but he too failed to break the metal out from the stone. “It’s quite the tough thing, as you can see. Apparently, some smiths in the capital take these to forge blades from them, though I have no idea you’d even begin melting this down.” He grabbed onto the metal with even more force, to show how tough it was as it budged not.

While the men were busy, Ayomide had gotten quite curious after having seen the rusted metal. If she could heal people, could she ‘heal’ metal as well? It was quite the curious question, so she took hand of a bar. She paused to think of a spell name that might work. In the end Ayomide decided to go with a simple “[Derust]!”, a new word that she had invented at this moment. To her surprise, the small area of the metal her hands touched shed its rust off and from under it a shiny gray metal became visible. The catgirl wizard quickly dusted off the shed rust from her hands, and proudly displayed her work to her party members.

A metal being rid of its dust was a whole lot less miraculous than having his limb be regrown, so Brown wasn’t too surprised by the magic act itself. “Interesting.” Brown caressed the newly cleaned bit of the metal, feeling its cold touch. “This feels just like iron, or steel.”

“Steel?” Shinasi raised his brow. “Why would they put something as precious as steel in the walls?” To him, this sounded like putting gold in the walls: a ridiculous proposition.

Brown didn’t know either; he shook his head to signal his ignorance in the realm of such odd construction techniques. He had died a few decades before reinforced concrete, which includes sticking bars of steel into concrete to make structures more tensile, had become widespread in the United States thanks to the experiments of his abolitionist comrade (and former patron) Thaddeus Hyatt (his 1877 report was, not-so-laconically, titled ‘An Account of Some Experiments with Portland-Cement-Concrete Combined with Iron as a Building Material, with Reference to Economy of Metal in Construction and for Security against Fire in the Making of Roofs, Floors, and Walking Surfaces’, which is only a few words short of being as long as the average isekai title).

After having exposited more than enough about the history of reinforced concrete, let us return back to the ordinary adventures of John Brown and the abolitionist catgirl wizard Ayomide.

Being unable to do anything with the odd bits of dungeonium, the party was about to enter the dungeon when they heard foreign screams, one male other female, coming from inside.

“Tasukete! Āa!”

“Adohe shelmiy Boczhe, mönsöé!”

Whatever they were screaming about, the people inside the dungeon didn’t seem to be having fun judging from the volume and desperation of their shrieks. Brown immediately jumped into the dark depths of the dungeon, only to be stopped by the dark depths of the dungeon which he couldn’t see.

“Old man! Wait a sec!” Ayomide and Shinasi came running after him. First, there was darkness. “You do know that sunlight doesn’t reach underground, right? What was the word… Right! [Luminate]!” Then Ayomide let there be light, in the form of a dimly glowing orb in her hand. The dull grey walls of the dungeon were barely visible in the dim light, but Ayomide couldn’t bother lest she spend all her magic shining like a lighthouse.

“We and I have no time for a comeback, young lady, let us proceed and find the source of the screams!” Brown began running again, at an impressive speed for his age. Having (probably innocent) people die wasn’t exactly a thing that he liked. Running through the corridor they had to dodge a myriad of things: bones, slime, other discarded items… In such a minor dungeon, there weren’t any enemies looking to murder them during their brisk jog. What would have been there had most likely been pulverized by the recent visit of a novice group, judging from all the unharvested slime that they had left behind. Following a couple more screams a bit deeper into the damp and dark dungeon, the group found their targets struggling with the familiar figure of a slime.

“Kowai! Suraimu kowai!” The male voice belonged to a bloke who had huddled into the corner into a fetal position while crying and quaking in fear. From her familiarity with customers in the maid café, Ayomide was able to guess that the language spoken by him was that of the otherworldly land of Nehoun from Örf / Earth.

Thankfully, for the guy crying in the corner, there seemed to be someone a bit braver than him. “Boczhe, adoh ezoc! Eizé zot?!” Instead of the desperate crying done by the other otherworlder, her cries were more ones of confusion and anger. She was furiously beating the slime with an overly thick book, one that had letters on its cover not recognizable to anyone in Brown’s party. However, mostly thanks to the blue gambeson she wore, she didn’t look too alien in Gemeinplatz. Her long and curly golden hair, which was actually just cheap wig covering her actual hair, bobbed up and down along with her tiny spectacles as she continuously leaned forward to beat the monster into a fine pulp. Due to slimes being slimy creatures, her method of bludgeoning the slime failed to damage it much, only serving to stutter the creature.

The bespectacled woman was saved by Ayomide, who carefully sent a spear flying using wind magic to maneuver the spear to make sure that her spear wouldn’t end up lodged in the larger target. “Pop” went the slime, and suddenly there was quiet for there were no more things to scream and shout about.

The woman who had been beating the slime shook her boots in an attempt to fling the slime off of it while the man in the corner slowly got off after having sufficiently calmed down. He was a twenty-something, with a protagonistly face which needed no further description except that he had a shadow of facial hair plastered on his face: an unusual trait for isekai protagonists to have facial hair at all.

Brown was intrigued by an entirely different thing, his 19^th-century self was surprised to see that the Eastern man in front of him wore a Western suit and tie. He had only come face to face with Jacob, so he hadn’t exactly gotten a chance to see any other otherworlders which might dispel his conceptions of “the Orient”. Seeing that the man in front of him was too shook to start conversation, Brown had to break the ice. “Good sir, might I have your name? My name is Isaac Smith.” Ayomide stared daggers at the new otherworlders, while Shinasi curiously watched the ones they had unexpectedly encountered.

“Ee?!” The man in front of Brown paused when he heard the speech. “How- How can I understand you?” he replied, clearly surprised at his own ability to understand the language of Gemeinplatz. He quickly switched gears back to not be discourteous. “Thanks for your help, Mister Smith. I am Watanabe Haruto, glad to meet you.” An awkward exchange commenced between them as Watanabe courteously bowed down while Brown extended his hand for a handshake. In the end Watanabe stopped bowing to shake Brown’s hand.

Suddenly, the slime-beating woman interjected. “…Wait, I can understand them too. How the-” She stopped herself from saying something utterly uncouth. She proceeded the put her hand above her heart and do a slight curtsy, though unlike Watanabe she had decided to extend her gratitude towards the one who threw the spear. “Thank you for your assistance, madame. I’d be Doctor Raban Rabanowicz Rabanow of Kiyelm, but you can just call me Doctor Rabanowicz…?” Her voice faded when she noticed something odd that sat on top of Ayomide.

“Hm?” Watanabe’s gaze shifted, after having realized he had thanked the wrong person. “Arere?!” Excitement was added to his voice when he noticed the same thing that Rabanowicz had noticed. “Cat ears!”

“…And a tail. How utterly queer.” Rabanowicz adjusted her spectacles, clearly being enamored by this new discovery.

“Oh, for…” Ayomide groaned. She had to go through the same procedure with every otherworlder; she did wonder as to how they had all managed to not see a catgirl for all their life. “Yes, yes, I have ears and a tail. My name is Ayomide, no you cannot touch them. Can we skip this please?”

“Sorry.” Watanabe retreated to a safe distance while Rabanowicz kept peeking curiously towards Ayomide. “So, would ye happen to know where we currently are?”

“The Minor Curry Dungeon.” Shinasi was the only one who actually remembered the name of the dungeon. “In Gemeinplatz” he added to make sure that their otherworlder guests wouldn’t be too confused.

“Ge… Gema’inpuradzu?” Watanabe scanned the area around him just to be even more sure. “I guess we’re not in Cabbagelandetia anymore. Should’ve understood from the sudden appearance of slimes and catgirls…” He suddenly cheered; his hands held right up to the sky. “Oh, finally I get to get out of that low fantasy snore-world into something that looks like proper high fantasy!”

Brown, Ayomide and Shinasi looked at Rabanowicz, as if they expected an answer for her partner’s odd words. “I know not what he speaks of.” She adjusted her spectacles once more, its tiny frame kept constantly doing its best to fall of from her nose. “He is under a terrible affliction of the mind under which he thinks of himself as being part of something called an ‘isékai’.”

Thus, the abolitionists had been introduced to an errant pair of otherworlders.

Chapter 44: Chapter XLI – Men in the midst of grey bricks.

Chapter Text

Lots of bricks. A whole lot more gray. Blue bits of battered slime. A little bit more gray. The essence of an insignificant, minor dungeon as the one that Brown and co had found themselves in could be described as such.

“So, this is it, young man?” Brown looked around the aforementioned scene while their unexpected guests did their best to psychologically recover from being slimed so suddenly. “I must say, these ‘dungeons’ seem to be quite underwhelming.”

Shinasi himself was busy searching for any loot, but he too had reached a disappointing conclusion. “Normally there are a whole lot more encounters. Another party must have visited recently.” He patted the familiar gray brick of the dungeon. “Plus, these minor dungeons are nothing too impressive. Believe me, I think you’d be impressed if you ever saw the dungeons near the Imperial capital.” For now however, his party was stuck in a place that wouldn’t look amiss on a dungeon crawler made for the Commodore 64.

Ayomide’s eyes shined with curiosity. “Oh? How’d those in the capital look like?”

Shinasi erred and hummed for a while before his head dejectedly slanted down. “To be truthful,” he was normally not above making fabrications about his exploits, being quite below it in fact, but Ayomide wasn’t any old wench in the tavern “the Minor Curry Dungeon is the only dungeon I’ve been into. There is only the one at the peak of Mount Curry that’s nearby.”

“Boo.” Ayomide gave a playful slap to Shinasi’s unguarded shoulder. “What a lousy adventurer you are.”

“I’m sure the young man is better off not entering even bigger dungeons.” Still unable to clear the association between ‘dungeon’ and ‘incarceration’, Brown wasn’t too comfortable with staying in the drab underground basem*nt. “God forbid, I don’t get why you’d willingly throw yourself in a dungeon.”

“Indeed, I believe that we are too slow for people breaking out of prison.” One of their new acquaintances, Rabanowicz, looked ready to smash some skulls with her book. “I know not why we are here, but I do know that I have committed no crimes in the eyes of state or the One Above.”

Her partner-in-crime Watanabe did his best to make her lower her dangerous weapon of literature. “Doctor, we aren’t breaking anyone out of anywhere. I’ll give you the detailed explanation later, but we are mostly safe save for those slimes that just attacked us.”

“What the gentleman over there just said.” Shinasi was surprised at how much he could agree with the otherworlder. “This is a place to battle monsters and loot some loot. I don’t know why you two are here, but weird things always tend to happen with you otherworlders… Like the place you just got up from.” A few of the bricks on the wall had shifted from where Watanabe had been crouching, the weight of his whole body causing the bricks to somewhat go inwards into another room. “I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen that here.” Shinasi approached the newly formed dent in the wall for a closer look. He kicked and prodded the bricks for a while until they collapsed and revealed a dark corridor. “Ayomide, shed us some light please?”

Ayomide pushed through the small crowd to [Luminate] the corridor. Her lamination revealed that this corridor was not formed of gray bricks like the rest of the dungeon, but another form of gray stone that continuously stretched on for seemingly no end. The only thing breaking it apart were the scant cracks on the wall which had the occasional drop of water escape between them. It wasn’t the most inviting of all sights, to say the least. Looking at such a sight, reasonable people would nope out and not enter. People in works of fantasy, however, tend to go into any place as long as it’s interesting enough and the plot demands it. “Old man,” Shinasi stared at the secret passageway with lust: lust for loot “I think we just hit the jackpot.”

Brown looked at the dark corridor for a second before turning back. He wasn’t a coward; he was just a rational human being who didn’t run on fantasy logic. “We have a mission, remember? We can’t go around being distracted by every divergence that comes our way.”

“Yes, I’d rather not get eaten by the boogeymen or whatnot that lie there.” Just one peek at the unending darkness was enough for Ayomide to shiver.

“While the prospect of a dungeon is exciting, I’d like it if we could be lead outside and to the closest human settlement.” Watanabe closed the discussion with this final statement.

“Aw, c’mon…” Shinasi was outvoted 4-to-1. The rules of democracy dictated that they should return back, and return back he’d do if he didn’t suddenly hear the ground below him rumble. “Do- I’m not drunk, am I?! The ground is shaking!”

“I’m as sober as the Lord made me and I can confirm that the ground is shaking!” Brown and the rest of the party scrambled to hold on to the walls while the tremor got closer and closer. Eventually the rumble turned into noises of metal scraping into each other, a hellish noise akin to nails on a blackboard. “Oh Lord, please grant us some of your endless mercy!”

“Ah… Help us, oh help us… Adohe…” Desperate times called for desperate prayer from Rabanowicz. No matter how much she prayed though, she apparently didn’t have enough levels in Prayer to stop what was coming at them smashing the last few bricks that had been left unsmashed. It barged into the room from the corridor, suddenly halting once it made it into the middle.

“What hath God wrought?!”

“This…” Watanabe had to pause so that he could find the appropriate group of words to explain the thing in front of them “This giant death robot apparently!” He had managed to perfectly convey what was in front of them: a giant metal cube running on threads with three arms attached to the right, left and front of the cube. The top of the cube had a shiny, enigmatic black sphere which seemed to be continuously rotating around. Its body had a few markings on the brink of erasure: some sort of red rectangle, the numbers ‘4’ and ‘2’ in Arabic numerals, and other text-like markings which had become illegible due to how faded and scratched they were. Its body was rusty and dusty in general, showing that whoever or whatever made this machine had forgotten about it a long while ago.

“The giant death what-” The giant death robot in question used one of its many arms to slap Ayomide away, sending her away to a wall on the other side of the dungeon room. She crashed onto the wall before bouncing back onto the floor in an unrefined fashion. “The giant death bastard!”

“Why is this in this crappy minor dungeon?!” Shinasi rushed forward to help the battered Ayomide get back on her feet. He put his shield between them and the robot. “Are you fine?”

“I’ve been finer-” The aptly-nicknamed giant death robot once more rudely interrupted Ayomide’s speech, this time with rapid gunfire. One if its arms supported a multi-barreled weapon which spun around while readying itself do deliver more-than-suppressive fire.

Whirr-ra-tatatata…tatataclickclickclickclickclick!

Thankfully its systems didn’t seem to work too well for actually killing people. The giant death robot’s gun was focused on the brightest thing in the room: Ayomide’s lamination spell which floated way above her. All of its two-hundred bullets had made way for the ceiling, excavating a large hole through the bricks. Loose chunks of brick and rock rained down from the ceiling which hit the robot’s unsuspecting victims right on their heads. Thankfully no big chunks had dropped down, otherwise there would have been a sudden rise in traumatic head injuries in the Minor Curry Dungeon area.

“What do we do with this… thing?!” Brown got up from his crouched position. “Shinasi, do you know anything about this?”

Shinasi quickly spat out a small piece of rubble that had sneakily made its way into his mouth. “Pweh- My instincts are telling me that we should leg it!” As if the giant death robot had heard Shinasi’s intentions for escape, it quickly drove its threads towards the poor adventurer while making the ground rumble once more. He’d have become human meat paste if not for the timely intervention of Ayomide and a healthy dose of wind magic pushing him away.

“This thing definitely seems faster than us!” Ayomide took out the steel knife, courtesy of the late Watanabe Generico, and pointed it towards the giant death robot as if she was David challenging Goliath. “I don’t think our legs are gonna be carrying us as fast as we need them to.”

There was a temporary bout of silence. Brown, the old man, was in one corner without any magic or overpowered abilities and items to protect himself. Shinasi and Ayomide were in another corner, with the revolutionary catgirl on a limited supply of magic and Shinasi on a limited supply of skill. The errant otherworlders, Watanabe and Rabanowicz, were still busy trying to understand their situation. The giant death robot stared them down, trying to kill them for reasons that had been long forgotten. Its machinery whirred and stirred, echoes of an age long past.

Then all hell broke loose.

In this chapter of the John Brown Isekai:

(Original meme posted by u/Snoo_72851 on r/JohnBrownIsekai)

Chapter 45: Chapter XLII – Flesh in the midst of metal.

Chapter Text

The bricks of the dungeon crackled once more as the metal threads began rotating once more. Crack, crackle and a snap, the giant death robot marched on towards Ayomide and Shinasi once more.

Shinasi had to quickly sidestep once more to avoid the crazed machine. “What does this thing have against us in particular?!” He wasn’t too happy to have drawn the attention of the crazed metal beast.

John Brown, currently busy with not being chased by a giant death robot, was able to get a clearer analysis. “When this thing was shooting,” he pointed at the bullet holes on the roof “it was aiming too high, and all of the bullets were passing through the ball of light you’ve got over there.” As if confirming his statement, the giant death robot took a swing towards the magic light again.

Ayomide dodged the incoming arm by promptly ducking. She began taking a few steps back. “So I just need to get this thing off my tail?” She then ‘threw’ the ball of light to a deserted corner of the room, or to be more accurate, she made a motion as if she was throwing something and the ball of light slowly floated over to a corner. The giant death robot then followed the light as if it was a cat going after a ball of yarn. Just like a cat, the giant death robot continued taking swipes at the ball of light, the major difference being that a giant death robot’s swings were somewhat deadlier than that of a small cat.

The robot’s futile attack continued while the group in the dungeon chatted at a somewhat more leisurely fashion. “I’d say that it’d be prudent for us to make our way out.” Brown dusted off his coat, beard, and hands and got up, looking excited to get out of the dungeon. Watanabe and Rabanowicz had already made their way out of the room, presumably towards freedom. Only Shinasi seemed to be the one who was reluctant to leave. His eyes were fixated on the corridor which they hadn’t explored, his adventurer instincts telling him to just barge in there and hope for the best.

“I’d love to leave, but…” Ayomide’s eyes were focused on the ball of light she was maintaining. “Magic gets weaker the further you get away from it. At one point the light would be completely gone and who knows what this beast will get up to after that point. It’s pretty quick so I’m sure it can catch up to us.”

“Then we can do some kiting.” Shinasi found that no one in the room seemed to have any understanding of what a ‘kiting’ was, so he had to explain further without the odd gamer lingo. “You’ll be in the back with the ball of light while the monster follows you at a safe rage.”

“That may seem prudent to you, young man. We’d save ourselves; I assume that this thing is going to begin battling the sun once it’s out.” Brown was quite curious as to why the giant death robot focused so much on light, but he put those thoughts aside while continuing his theorycrafting. “What happens after the sun sets, however? It’d probably attack anyone carrying any source of light. Or brightly lit houses, those would be a target too.”

“You are right…” Shinasi looked at the metal beast still clawing away at the magic light. Unleashing such a thing didn’t seem like a good idea. “How do we defeat it then?”

“I don’t know how you’ll defeat it, but I’d like it if your brains could work faster!” Ayomide’s mouth had formed into a small frown, her brows fere furrowed, and a small drop of sweat had begun making its way down her forehead. “I can’t exactly keep this thing shining all day!”

Brown began pacing around while thinking more frantically. Shinai stood still, he was more the type to tap his foot and cross his arms while thinking. The young adventurer intended to approach the robot to take a closer look. Despite his adventurous spirit however, he couldn’t exactly bring himself to get closer to a few tons of giant death metal. Brown on the other hand gathered all the faith he had in the Lord and proceeded to charge at the robot with his saber (courtesy of the late Jacob’s late patron). As expected the sword couldn’t penetrate even through the rusted metal of the robot. All Brown managed to achieve in his attack was chipping a few pieces of rusty metal off as sparks flew from the meeting of metals. It seemed that faith in God couldn’t melt steel beams no matter how much Brown tried. “It’s no use, young lady.” he said before giving one last whack of desperation to the giant death robot’s body. “All I can do is remove the rust from this thing.” After all sixty years of his life, the thing that had managed to finally defeat John Brown was a giant death robot.

“I think you’ll be helping this thing if you remove the dust from it!” replied Shinasi, who had gathered a bit of courage and began poking the giant death robot with his spear. Javelins may be useful against armor as a certain nation under invasion may attest to, unfortunately for Brown and co stuck in the dungeon, Shinasi’s spear was a primitive model which was a whole lot less effective against armor. “Though, this thing is so rusty that I bet you could get in its innards just by smashing all the rust out.”

Brown didn’t seem too pleased with Shinasi’s sarcastic remark. “Too bad we didn’t bring a pickaxe then!” Still, he switched to smashing the giant death robot with the hilt of his saber which was a whole more effective. Shinasi followed by pommeling the rusted body with the shaft of his spear. The pair looked like a bunch of angry cavemen or a pair of Luddites who had unexpectedly encountered technology. “Young lady, do you think you could hold on until we get this beast sufficiently ridden of rust?”

Ayomide saw what her comrades-in-arms were attempting, and couldn’t help but sigh. They weren’t making much progress; sabers and spears weren’t efficient mining tools. The light she was providing had begun to get dimmer and dimmer as the seconds passed on. “Don’t think I can.” Then Ayomide had a bright idea, or, an idea that was only metaphorically bright. “I think I can help you, but…”

“But?” Shinasi’s arms were beginning to get tired of constantly pommeling the giant death robot in futility. “We really need help here.”

“…the lights might go out for a bit.” Ayomide sluggishly approached the robot. There wasn’t much energy left in her after having been a living and breathing light source for so long. “Alright, I hope you aren’t too afraid of the dark.” She touched an especially rusty part of the robot, took a deep breath, and then chanted as loudly as she could: “[Derust]!” The magic light suddenly went off. The only thing anyone could hear was the sound of crackling and the giant death robot’s motor.

Things were fully silent for a minute, except for the robot swinging wildly, before Ayomide’s light appeared as dim as moonlight during a crescent moon. She was on the ground, out of breath and barely conscious. Such intense derusting wasn’t easy on one’s body. “Go- Go for it before I pass out!” she cried out with the last of her energy. Her body wasn’t moving at all, save for her eyes whizzing around to get a view of the scene.

Brown was quick to find what damage had been done: a giant hole had been opened in the giant death robot’s hull. Shinasi joined him in examining their patient, who was now busy with the dim light. “What are these? They don’t look like the organs of any beast.”

“I believe that this is some sort of machinery, young man.” Brown quickly leaned in to take a closer look. There were gears, wheels, shafts and a million other bits he couldn’t name. “Stick your shaft into the hole. Let us see what we can break.” He took initiative by doing his best to knock off some gears with his saber.

Shinasi began using his spear like a lever to bend the thin shafts spinning inside the giant death robot. Soon there were gears and broken shafts jumping around the machinery making a hellish noise. Having its innards turned into steel soup, the giant death robot eventually made a few sputters before giving up on movement. After another few seconds its engine stopped as well. It’s lifeless metal body became even more lifeless.

“Phew. That’s the beast dealt with.” Shinasi took his shaft out of the hole and wiped his brow. The near-death experience with the giant death robot wasn’t exactly the most pleasant thing to experience. “Ayomide, are you still alive down there?”

Ayomide gave a weak thumbs up while still laying on the ground. “Could use some help with getting up.” Shinasi quickly took ahold of Ayomide and got her up. She wasn’t in a state to walk unassisted, or so it seemed, so she wrapped her arms around the young adventurer for support.

“Thank the Lord for getting us out of this mess.” Brown spent a minute or two praying fervently while the others got their footing once more. “Now, I assume you’d like to go outside now?”

Shinasi’s eyes were still locked onto the dark corridor. Now that Ayomide’s light had dimmed, he noticed something interesting: the end of the corridor was shining a dim green. The giant death robot had only served to heighten his curiosity as to what it was protecting. “Captain, this giant death robot came from that room. There seems to be no more commotion coming from over there, I think there’d be no harm in us taking a loo- Puah!” His suggestion prompted Ayomide to tighten her arm coiled around Shinasi in anger.

However, Brown had gotten intrigued too by this point. “I’d say that there’s no harm in taking a look.” With God on his side, he’d surely be fine. “Let us venture forth and see what this ‘dungeon’ may have in store for us.”

And so Brown and co marched on into the corridor. It wasn’t as long as it initially seemed, and in a minute of walking they were in another dimly lit room. What was intriguing was what this light was emanating off of: a large green orb, with shiny green liquid floating inside it, in the middle of the room about the size of a ripe cabbage which was held by several coiling vines. The rest of the room was covered in these vines as well. These vines were pulsating and sometimes giving a dim shine themselves, a scene both mesmerizing and terrifying in equal measures. Compared to the cacophony of the giant death robot, the room was absolutely silent save for the breathing of its three visitors.

Brown stood silent for a while, admiring and contemplating the scene. He then only had one thing to say: “Pray tell, what is this?”

Hello, dear reader. While most of your experiences with my work come through the written side of my business, I dabble in illustration as well, and my dabbling has resulted in me collaborating together with a good fellow nicknamed Arzvet to make a little indie fangame. Parsee's Festival of Love and Jealousy is free to play for all ye who are (or aren't) reading, and you can download and play it from here if you are interested in getting more information.

Chapter 46: Chapter XLIII – Mortals in the midst of a mystery.

Chapter Text

The room was ever so silent, even after Brown’s question as it received no answers. Vines still coiled, the green fluid inside the glass sphere pulsated and old Brown sat and pondered. Everything he had seen up to that point, even Ayomide’s seemingly miraculous healing magic, had made a modicum of sense to him. This place? This place was a whole different thing compared to magical catgirls suddenly healing John Brown’s arm. It just made no sense, with the giant death robots and the odd green liquid, it was as alien as little green men from Pluto or the modern incarnation of Mac-and-Cheese.

While Brown was most busy with trying to sort out his befuddled state, Shinasi was making rounds around the room while searching for loot. He found the place to be alien too, but that was to be expected out of a dungeon. Such exotic rooms usually meant exotic loot, or so he had heard. Shinasi’s luck with loot wasn’t exactly great, evident from the debts he had racked up before escaping Azdavay. Thinking about it, he did hope he’d find something to sell in case he encountered one of his old ‘friends’. Buying that big jug of rakija for his trick back in the copper mine had only been possible with a fair bit of pleading and debt-making, not to mention everything from the past… It just made Shinasi’s head hurt, so he stopped thinking about it further. He always managed to make ends meet one way or another, so he thought it was futile to make his head ache for something he would manage anyways. Perhaps the old man wouldn’t notice a few groschen missing from his bag of cash?

Fortunately for our adventuring friend, it seemed that the Lord, or whoever was in charge of Gemeinplatz, had decided to grant His grace upon his sullen face. The center of the room only contained the large orb, but the corners of it had various bits of equipment… along with scattered bits of bone that Shinasi did his best to ignore. Like any good adventurer Shinasi carried a knapsack with him, and he stuffed a few small and valuable-looking items to treat himself after the fight with the giant death robot. Rings were the best, they were commonly enchanted with something-or-another that made them valuable if not for the ring itself, followed by other items of jewelry. The bits of bone on the ground didn’t need them anyways, and respect for the dead wasn’t an article of the adventurer’s code. Shinasi even begun humming a little tune while he did his collecting, which would make any outside observer think he was some sort of psychopath for being so cheerful around the fleshless remains of his fellow adventurers.

As for the catgirl in the room, she had been focusing on the green orb in the middle of the room. It looked quite mesmerizing, hues of dark and light green coming off of the liquid swimming inside it. Ayomide found herself slowly taking steps towards it out of sheer curiosity, inching ever so closer to the orb. She hesitated a bit, hovering her hand over the orb, before being unable to resist her urge to give it a gentle touch. The orb reacted to that gentle touch with a violent outburst of green light. Everyone in the room, except for Shinasi who was crouched towards the opposite direction of the orb while looting, found themselves temporarily blinded as if the fantastical equivalent of a flashbang had gone off.

The light slowly subsided, Ayomide slowly opened her eyes, and slowly she noticed that the orb was no more. In its place was a shining green gem of a similar green color, lazily floating around and bobbing up and down. Ayomide hesitated once more before grabbing this odd gem. Thankfully no fantastic flashbangs went off this time; on the contrary, the room was quite dark now that there was no odd green orb to give light.

“Who turned off the lights?” said Shinasi, turning back from his bout of looting. “I quite liked the… odd green orb.”

Brown rubbed his eyes, still unable to see properly from his eyes being so suddenly fried. He found Ayomide holding a green gem that seemed to have spontaneously appeared. “What is that, that thing in your hands, young lady?”

Ayomide shrugged. “Do I look like I know what this is? I just touched the orb.” She was already tired from all the previous magic she had done, but having light seemed really important to her. “[Luminate].” As expected, a ball of light came out; as unexpected, it came out of the gem and not her hands. It was also a whole lot brighter than it would usually be, too bright in fact. Ayomide had to focus a bit to lower the ball’s brightness down. “What the?”

“Oh, I think it’s one of those things that the magic people use to buff their spells.” Using gems and other precious materials was common amongst mages who could afford it, as Shinasi was currently attesting to. “Apparently stuff like that helps you conduct your magic better.”

“Right, right. I’ve seen those mages with their wooden sticks and orbs.” Ayomide had forgotten to ever make herself a staff, with all the other work she had to do. “Though, I think that precious gems are usually found in mines, are they not?”

All the loot in the room, the vines and the odd green orb, something finally clicked within Shinasi’s mind. “Ah! I think I know what this room is?”

“Is it a mine?” Ayomide hadn’t exactly gotten the chance to observe many mines within her lifetime.

“No, it’s not something ordinary like a mine.” Shinasi closed his knapsack full of loot before continuing. “This is… what was it called exactly… Right! A ‘dungeon core’!” He pointed towards the place where the green orb used to be. “These places are the heart of a dungeon or something like that. I don’t really know what they exactly do, to be honest. I’ve only heard rumors about such places, not went into one until now.” He looked around the room one more time. “Though, isn’t there supposed to be some big boss monster here… Oh.” He regretted saying that as soon as the sentence was finished. Setting off flags was a big no-no in Gemeinplatz, and Shinasi was sure he had set the biggest and reddest flag of all. The adventurer readied his spear and shield, ready for a boss to dramatically make its grand entrance.

“Big bad monster? I believe we already have slain one, and its corpse is standing right outside this room. Thank the Lord we finished the fight without major problems.” Brown was pretty relaxed, so was Ayomide.

“Yeah, we’re fine. Nothing is going to happen.” Ayomide laughed it away, happy that she wasn’t going to be beaten by another giant death robot or something akin to it.

“People, please…” Shinasi had only gotten more nervous. “You shouldn’t tempt fate.” His eyes were shifting around the room in anticipation of an attack.

“Don’t worry young man, our Heavenly Father is watching over us. Fate isn’t a matter which can be tempted save for the intervention of the Lord above.” Being perhaps the most fatalistic man in the universe, Brown was as calm as anyone could be.

Sometimes, the ‘intervention of the Lord above’ includes giant death robots, added Ayomide. “Let’s return then. I don’t think there’s much more in this dungeon.” All the valuables had been conveniently taken by Shinasi. “Aren’t you coming, Shinasi?”

Shinasi looked around the room a few more times, before drawing a large sigh. “Okay, maybe the robot was the boss of this room.” He put away his shield, took on a more relaxed posture, and intended to follow his party out.

However, things do tend to go south the moment one stops being alert as dictated by the rules of drama and tension. Suddenly the vines behind them began moving on their own, coalescing around the empty space left behind by the green orb. The vines quickly coiled around themselves to take on a vaguely humanoid form, and black miasma began coalescing around the ‘head’. After a while this black miasma became white and formed a plant-like shape resembling an onion with a tulip perched on top of it. This new monster looked very similar to the weaponnapper encountered by Brown and co earlier, though it was a whole lot taller and intimidating with three eyes bobbing up and down from its onion-shaped head. It quickly grabbed the leftover equipment, mostly rusted junk, from the room with its countless vines.

“Okay, what sort of thing is this?!” shouted Shinasi upon witnessing this new monster form in front of his eyes. Their path to escape was quickly blocked by thick vines.

Ayomide pointed her new gem towards the monster. “Nothing friendly, clearly.” The monster slashed a sword towards them as if to confirm her statement. Ayomide dodged to the side while keeping the gem pointed towards the humanoid weaponnapper. Its eyes had caught the attention of the catgirl. After having had her eyes blasted with light, she wanted to take revenge from the dungeon and its inhabitants. Ayomide quickly invented a new name for the spell she had in mind, using the last of her energy to chant “Everyone, close your eyes! [Luminate Spear]!”

The name of the attack sounded like it belonged to a badly-localized JRPG, but that was the norm for spell names in Gemeinplatz. Thankfully the quality of the spell name had no bearing on the spell itself, and the gem shot out a large beam of warm orange light directly towards the weaponnapper’s three eyes. Unlike Brown and Shinasi who could understand human speech, the weaponnapper had not been able to shield its eyes in time for the attack. It thrashed around, completely blind, letting its blocking vines go in confusion.

“Captain, what do we do?” Shinasi instinctively took a few steps back towards the exit with his shield pointing towards the weaponnapper.

“You see, young man and young lady.” Brown pointed his saber towards the monster. “Bravery and honor are important virtues for anyone to hold. Our Maker has sent us here to battle with various hardships in life, whether it be marital issues or giant monsters.” Shinasi looked at the old man as if he was crazy. Was he really about to charge this thing down, with all of them being already tired from the fight with the giant death robot? “But, in life, there is also no shame in noticing the fact that there is a giant onion-tulip beast about to pulverize you. So, as I’ve thoroughly learned while fighting in Kansas,” Brown took a few steps back “there is no dishonor in a tactical retreat!” Thus, old John Brown began running away along with everyone else. He was quite the sane man, and sanity dictated that one shouldn’t fight a giant onion monster after having fought a giant death robot.

Thankfully the corridor leading to the dungeon core was narrow enough that the weaponnapper couldn’t follow them, save for a few vines doing their best to snatch someone up. Shinasi and Brown poked and prodded the vines while running, and Ayomide did her best to conserve all her remaining little energy to running. Eventually they were out once again into the great outdoors, where there was plenty of fresh air and none of giant death robots.

Chapter 47: Chapter XLIV – Visitors in the midst of a city.

Chapter Text

27^th of Summer, 5859
Imperial Highway №04-765, Outskirts of the City of Casamonu

John Brown was done with giant death robots, giant death onions, anything to do with large sizes. Unfortunately for old Brown, he was en route to a large city, the largest one in Casamonu and the namesake of the county in fact. Its presence could be felt even if the city was far away: the desire path was suddenly cut off by a paved road leading to the city. It was quite a wide one, made with stone bricks sourced from Mount Curry lined up as to allow up to two carriages to pass through simultaneously.

There was a milestone next to the intersection of the desire path, declaring that this road was “Imperial Highway №04-765” in English and a few other languages that Brown nor anyone else in his party could read. The sides of this milestone contained the many names of the patrons of this highway, starting at the top with “the gracious Mayor Erkan of Kasatmonu, son of Erkan of Kasatmonu” two millenia ago, continuing after another millenium with “His Imperial Majesty Glory IV Earlyriser” and ending with “the ever-generous Sir Kim Seong-min of Hangvuk” a year ago. Brown could at least admire the civic spirit shown by a road having been kept alive for so long, though he’d appreciate it a bit more if this road was not maintained by slave labor.

Ayomide appreciated the road a bit less. She, in a minor act of protest against the empire, turned over one of the loose bricks on the road and tossed it away into the woods. It was a joy to imagine some pompous nobleman’s carriage being ruined by this missing stone, and joy was a thing that fugitives desperately lacked.

Shinasi watched as the stone flew away deep into the woods. “I’d be careful with that.” said the adventurer “This entire road is bona fide imperial property. What you did would get the same punishment as the one you’d get if you broke into his palace and chucked one of the vases out of the window.”

“Oh? Really?” This only served to goad Ayomide further. She spat spitefully in spite of Shinasi’s warning, her spittle of spit landing on one of the stones. “And is this equivalent to spitting on his balding head?” She’d go further with defiling the road if not for John Brown angrily staring them down.

Shinasi sighed. “I don’t know why I warned you. It’s not like they can hang you twice for being a fugitive and lese-majesty.”

"They can do that if I end up not dying like the old man.” Shinasi and Ayomide couldn’t help but laugh in the face of their grim situation. Humor was the only thing keeping them sane from the real threat of capture and death.

“I do appreciate your enthusiasm in harming enemy infrastructure” said Brown, suddenly butting into the conversation “but we’ll be doing that in an organized manner when the time comes, so please exercise patience” Brown had read about the Romans of old and how they had built extensive road networks that constituted the lifeline of the empire. Trade, armies, communication, all flow from roads and the Gemeinplatz Empire seemed to be aware of that fact evident by the magnificent road in front of old Brown. Seeing this road had already gotten his brain to work on plans to sabotage this road network for abolitionist gains. A couple of angry freemen who had extensive experience with pickaxes would be perfect for this job, not to mention arming a few of them to extort slave traders trying to use the road… The road of opportunity seemed to stretch as wide as the road in front of him, as if the Lord himself had paved this road network to grant these former slaves an opportunity. “Let us conduct our business in the city swiftly so that we may return to take care of other pressing issues in Libertycave.” For now however, they were just sheep entering a den of wolves.

“Aye aye captain.” replied Shinasi, doing his best not to kick away a brick from the road. The dungeon had eaten into their time quite a bit, and they were around two away from Casamonu when the sun slowly began its gentle retreat. Shinasi had planned the trip to end in one day, so he hadn’t told any of his party members to pack camping supplies. Thankfully, he had a contingency plan. “I think we’re getting close.”

“Close?” Brown looked around him to make sure. “I don’t see the city anywhere, young man.”

“I don’t mean the city.” He pointed to a structure just off the road. It was a monument of some sort, with a stone base and four rectangular pillars which had long been broken away. “We’re an hour away from our resting point.”

“Resting point?” Ayomide didn’t seem too comfortable with the idea. “I bet they don’t even have proper accommodations for a darkskin.”

Shinasi smiled to reassure her. “Don’t worry, I’m not talking about a roadside inn.” Ayomide looked at him hoping for an answer, but she didn’t receive one. “Be patient, you’ll soon find out.”

Ayomide’s patience was tasted for another whole hour as the party continued on the main road. The road was populated by the scant city guards on patrol and passersby as they got closer to Casamonu while the sun retreated even further. She was beginning to worry that they wouldn’t reach this ‘resting point’ until Shinasi stopped his march and pointed to a small village off the side of the road. “Here we are.”

Like any other village in Northern Gemeinplatz, the houses of this village were built with wood, fueled with wood and supported with wood. Some villages further away from the city would also have palisades constructed with wood, but this one lacked any as patrols from Casamonu provided ample protection to villages near the highway. Still, the entrance of the village had a watchtower built just in case. The watchtower had a sign hanging from it revealing the name of the village to be “Yellowclover” with a crude image of a yellow clover next to the text. There were no yellow clovers, or any clovers, around the area which made one wonder how it had gotten the name in the first place. Instead of plants there were plenty of fields around the village, filled with lentils, wheat and potatoes which need no further description. The denizens of the village had all retreated into their houses by now after having done their daily work, which meant that the village itself looked quite abandoned at this hour.

Shinasi lead his party to an inconspicuous house in the corner. It was small, almost falling apart and consisted of only one floor. He casually knocked on the door of the house, which was replied with sounds of someone rushing to open the door.

“Coming!” the voice inside opened the door, revealing a girl quite younger than Shinasi. She was the perfect stereotype of a village girl in Gemeinplatz: a colorful headscarf adorned with felt cut to look like various flowers, a long linen dress embroidered with various geometrical shapes held by a silk sash that must have cost quite the fortune trailing down to the floor. Locks of hairs colored like chestnuts flowed down from her headscarf, almost blocking her eyes.

She ignored the other visitors and focused on Shinasi. “Oh, brother!” They rushed to hug each other, Shinasi having to crouch to reach his sister.

“How have you been faring, Shirin?”

“Decently enough, we just returned from taking care of the fields. It’s a bit hard without you around.”

“Eh, I’m sure a strong lady like you can take care of any field.”

A round of mostly pointless small talk occurred between the siblings before Shirin’s attention was finally dragged back to the visitors standing outside the door.

“Who are these people? An escort quest?” Her eyes bounced between Brown and Ayomide. Both of them looked out of place like a conga line of neon pink elephants on a space station. The village folk didn’t frequently get to see an Awmereighkan and a catgirl stand side-to-side.

“I guess you could call this an escort mission, yes.” He stood aside to let Shirin see his comrades more clearly. “The old man is John Brown, and the catgirl is Ayomide. They’ll be staying the night here.”

“They’re guests then? Wait a sec.” Shirin turned around and quickly entered a room to the back while shouting “Father! We have guests, and brother!”

Shinasi entered his own house without hesitation while beckoning for his party to do the same. “Come in, make yourselves at home. This is my house after all.” Brown and Ayomide followed him to the indoors, which was as plain as the outside of the house. The only thing decorating the room was a faint rug laid on the wooden floor and a low table standing in the middle of it. They sat on the rug while Shinasi stood up to follow his sister into the room, asking “Would you like some tea, captain and Ayomide?” before leaving. They both nodded, being as athirst as anyone could reasonably be after having walked for an entire day. Noises of copperware clanging together and rushed speech could be heard from the backroom, before Shirin returned with a boiling iron teapot (tea was so important as to indulge in buying an iron one) and four teacups on a tray. She set the table, pouring the tilia tea while nervously eyeing the strangers.

The silence was broken by Shinasi barging into the room, shouting “Shinasi coming through!” while carrying an old man in his arms. He set the old man next to the wall, allowing him to lean towards the wall for support. He introduced this old man to his party as well “This is my father Shinasi.” Confirming this statement was the fact that Shinasi Jr. looked like the spitting image of Shinasi Sr., the only difference being their age and garb. Compared to Shinasi’s adventure-ready gambeson, Shinasi Sr.’s outfit consisted of a wool cap and shirt protected by a leather jacket.

“Glad to meet you, good sir and…” Shinasi Sr. was unsure of how to refer to Ayomide, pausing while looking at the catgirl.

“Lady.” replied Ayomide, making her egality clear.

“Excuse me, good lady. My son briefly introduced me to you while he was scrambling to get the tea ready.” He shook hands with the Awmereighkan, saluting Ayomide afterwards by tipping his cap towards the catgirl. “Please excuse us for not being able to accommodate you as befitting a gentleman.”

Brown took a sip of the tea to clear his throat. It was quite plain, lacking sugar or milk. “I’m just a simple merchant making my way to Casamonu, Mister Shinasi. We should be the ones apologizing for making your household go through the trouble of accommodating guests on such a short notice.” While talking, his attention was drawn to Shinasi Sr.’s legs. The senior Shinasi hadn’t moved his legs at all since his son had set him on the floor.

Shinasi Sr. seemed used to this type of attention, and he replied upon noticing Brown’s gaze “Don’t worry sir, I haven’t been able to move them for a while now.” He had to lean forwards to take hold of his own cup of tea. “Work-related accident from a long time ago, back when I was in Casamonu with my wife.” He looked a bit far-away while reminiscing about his past. The old man seemed be the type who loves to talk about his life story to strangers without being prompted, though this was a common trait among older humans. “We were carrying a bunch of stuff off of a carriage, one that was stuffed to the brim. I try to tell the lord ‘Oh dear sir, we should get a bunch more people to carry these’, but does the idiot listen? Of course not, the entire thing came crashing down and crushed us to death.” He didn’t need to tell the rest of the story for one to understand what the result of this crushing was.

Shirin yawned, and Shinasi was twiddling his thumbs while his dad was retelling the same story for the umpteenth time. Sure, hearing about how their mother died was tragic for the first few times, but the emotional impact of the story tended to fade with time especially when his father tended to tell the tale of his tragic backstory to each and every guest that happened to come by their humble abode. The entirety of Gemeinplatz had probably heard of the story of Shinasi Sr. by now, and it would be no surprise if a bard or two had composed songs about his tale by now.

Having sufficiently retold his tale, Shinasi Sr. turned to his thumb-twiddling son. “I hope your journey was safe? All the merchants passing by have been telling us about how dangerous the roads are because of fugitives.”

It was surprising how quickly rumors of the ‘roving bands of escaping slaves ambushing merchants’ spread considering that the League of Gileadites had not engaged in any activities of that sort yet. Brown didn’t find it too surprising however; he knew very well how rumors about escaped slaves tended to be exaggerated and fabricated by an anxious populace. He found this rising fear of a slave rebellion to be a healthy thing. Let them fear the oppressed rising up and overthrowing them, for their fears are not unfounded.

Shinasi couldn’t help but hesitate with lying to his own father. “Umm… There were no problems. The road was as clear as it usually is.” He managed to keep his cool, doing his best not to seem suspicious.

“Good, the patrols seem to be doing their job for once then.” The room had eventually grown darker and darker while they were conversing as the sun finally disappeared from the sky. Crickets had come out to play, and their chirps could be heard. Lacking any form of cheap and convenient lighting, the rural folk of Gemeinplatz had no choice but to go to sleep at night. Shinasi Sr. tapped Shinasi Jr.’s shoulder to get his attention. “Son, get the bedding out for the guests. You don’t plan on letting them sleep on the floor now, do you?”

“Of course not.” With the father’s command, it was clear that it was time for the day to conclude. Everyone quickly sipped the remaining tea, and accommodations for Brown and Ayomide were set up on the entrance room. They were to rest on woolen futon-like bedding, which was much more comfortable compared to Libertycave’s luxury straw accommodations.

Thus the night would march on once more, eventually making way for day…

Chapter 48: Chapter XLV – Walk before me faithfully and be blameless.

Chapter Text

28^th of Summer, 5859
Yellowclover Village, Outskirts of the City of Casamonu

Having slept in caves, mud huts and the great outdoors, the simple wool bedding courtesy of Shinasi Sr. felt like the clouds of Heaven for everyone involved. Brown’s back wasn’t aching for the first time in three months, Ayomide didn’t mutter a few curses while waking up and Shinasi… He hadn’t managed to get sleep as he was too busy catching up with his family during the night. There wasn’t much ado in a small village like this, most of the talk was either acquaintances getting married, dying from disease, or a new child being born. This standard fare provided a feeling of normality which had been lacking in Shinasi’s life since he had joined an abolitionist group locked in the mountains. Of course, he didn’t mention his new occupation to his family; Shinasi didn’t want his father having a heart attack.

Signaling the beginning of this new day was the cry of a rooster, a shriek cry from the neighbor’s errant rooster who loved to cry before the sun even rose up. Brown, in his newly awaken state, thought that he should hire this rooster to help fix the sleep schedules of everyone in Libertycave. Brown slowly got up from his bed, which woke up the neighboring Ayomide as well. She reluctantly raised her head to see that the sun hadn’t even properly shown its face. Regardless of her desire to go back to sleep, Brown had already woken up. The old man wouldn’t let anyone not be “healthy, wealthy and wise” if he could help it, the problem being that his standards for earliness were far too strict for the people of Gemeinplatz.

“Good morning, young lady. It is good to see that you have risen early.”

“Yeah, yeah...” Ayomide could barely see Brown with her half-closed eyes. “Yawn. Are we going already?” This bedding is too good to leave…

“I hope you don’t think of me as an idler.” Brown graciously helped Ayomide by quickly lifting her sheet up. No option was left for Ayomide but to wake up now. The old man had won the battle for sleep once more, on two fronts. First, he had woken up Ayomide. Secondly, the commotion created by waking her up had caused Shinasi to wake up. He made his presence known by peeking through the door to the only other room in the house.

“Old man…” Shinasi’s hair was messy. Some may think that he had a case of bedhead, but his usual hairstyle looked indistinguishable from bedhead with spikes of hair extending in all four cardinal directions simultaneously. “…for the love of what you call hallow, the sun’s barely up!”

“The Devil does not sleep, young man.” Brown had already worn his coat and knapsack. He was ready to march on. “Neither should we if we wish to keep up with his countless machinations.”

“Old man, I’ve seen a couple devils in the dungeons.” Shinasi was getting ready to go out despite readying a comeback. “They do sleep.” After getting his gear ready he splashed some water on to his face from a water basin. He shuddered as the water had gone cold during the night.

“Jacob slept plenty as well. Neither was that living sack of rotting taters clever enough to make any machinations.” Ayomide joined in washing her face, going further beyond by also cleaning grime off her hands with Brown-made slime soap. “I think you don’t need to be concerned of devils.”

Brown didn’t exactly want to mention the name of Satan any further, so he avoided evangelizing about this topic any further. The only bad thing about leaving early was that he was unable to say farewell to his hosts. He left a few bars of soap (that he had been carrying around in case of emergencies) on the table as a gift of gratitude.

“Are you all ready to go?” Ayomide and Shinasi both nodded in response. “Then, may our Heavenly Father protect us, let us set off!”

28^th of Summer, 5859
Casamonu, County of Casamonu

Casamonu. A grand and ancient city, established several millennia ago before the Empire of Gemeinplatz had ever been born. The city itself is surrounded by ruins of other Casamonus who have failed to survive the test of time not to mention the invisible ruins which have been buried under the earth long ago. No matter who has built or ruled it over the long years, one thing that has never changed about Casamonu is caravans filled with copper passing its gates to conduct business with craftsmen in the city. Such important gates require excellent protection, and excellent protection requires experienced guards.

Unfortunately, experienced guards require money. Money that the county couldn’t afford to spare for some men to stand around all day checking a gate.

“So, what’re you doing this weekend?” Billy (whose real name was Bilaleddin) was the quintessential guard recruit. A simple helmet, an even simpler sword, and the simplest wooden shield known to man were all that protected him. Like all his comrades he wore a bright yellow vest with the words “Casamonu Customs” written in several languages. All who joined the guard had to provide all this equipment themselves. The pay was mediocre but the job was easy enough that people did invest in equipment to join the gate guard.

“This weekend? I take it that you haven’t been here for long?” Bob (whose real name was Boron) was the quintessential guard veteran. A simple helmet, an even simpler sword, and the simplest wooden shield known to man were all that protected him just like his green comrade-in-arms standing next to him.

“What do you mean?” As far as Billy knew they were supposed to have one day of vacation.

“Don’t you know the life expectancy of a guard here?”

“No. How long is it?”

“I’d reckon it to be about thirty seconds.”

Billy was shaken and stirred. “Thirty seconds? They didn't tell that to me when I signed up!” He looked at his measly armor and armaments. It was truly a sorry sight for poor Billy. He watched as the line waiting to go through the gate went forwards. Clad in full plate armor colored deep black, carrying an equally black zweihander, was an adventurer who terrified Billy. The black knight seemed to be the sort who’d cut him down then and there.

“Papers please.” The man in black obliged as he handed his papers over to Bob. A portly woman next to the black knight whose witch hat which seemed to reach for the heavens with its height did the same as well. Bob smiled at the black knight while handing the papers back. “Sorry for the delay honorable sir.”

Billy breathed a sigh of relief when the edgy knight left his sight. “Phew. I thought that my 30 seconds were up…”

“Huh? You took my words seriously?” Bob’s boisterous laugh echoed throughout the entirety of Casamonu. He patted the back of the recruit, trying to regain his breath. “I was just joking, boy. The job at the gate is the most secure job you can get as a guard in any city.”

“I-Is that so?”

“Yes. There are no monsters near the city, you know. Some poor sods get assigned to the watchtowers in the outskirts where they get napped by the weaponnappers.” Bob couldn’t help but laugh again, there wasn’t actually anything that funny about the situation but he was desperate for some fun having stood on the same spot for the last twenty years. “Count yourself lucky, boy. Most people that pass here are the respectable sort, like the Sir Black Knight you just saw enter.”

“Understood, sir.”

Bob had been simultaneously checking the papers of everyone while conversing. Thankfully there was no caravans passing by at that moment, which meant he didn’t need to pause to check their goods. He was so good at his job that people would understand that they needed to hand papers the moment his gaze landed upon them. They’d also pay the appropriate toll without complaint, which was mostly thanks to Bob’s bulky and intimidating build. Had there been LitRPG mechanics in Gemeinplatz, Bob would have definitely become a level 99 customs officer.

Other than his ability to efficiently process papers, Bob had also gained another ability with his years of experience: the ability to efficiently sus people out. He claimed he could easily differentiate the ne’er-do-wells from the e’er-do-wells just from how they acted while approaching the gate. The veteran customs guard was always on guard, always vigilant while scanning every passerby.

Bob was still keeping his guard when an unnoticeable party appeared before him. An armed young man with unkempt hair, a tall old gentleman with a magnificent beard and a stout catgirl with ginger hair. The old man exuded an aura confidence that Bob liked, the adventurer seemed to be just doing his job and the catgirl’s eyes were travelling between them all in a nervous fashion. Confidence was good: criminals weren’t exactly going to be at ease while showing forged documents. The only outlier was the slave, who Bob concluded must have newly fallen into her unfortunate situation considering she hadn’t adapted. The second thing Bob liked was that the adventurer handed him his identification (a bronze badge containing personal information) without him having to ask.

Bob quickly whizzed through the identification, one belonging to the Adventurer’s Guild of Casamonu, as he had nothing to suspect about with the upstanding gentlemen who were standing in front of him. The guild would pay for the adventurer’s toll, so he handed the badge without asking where his well-deserved toll was. Normally Bob would have to ask the old gentleman for identification as well, both for himself and what looked to be his slave, but he decided to not make the man pointlessly wait. He looked to be a good chap, a kind old man who had hired the young adventurer in front of him for protection… or so Bob made up a story for his guests as he tended to do.

Bob waved his hand towards the gate. “You may pass, sir.” He let the group pass, immediately forgetting about them when the next group needed to be checked. Having seen thousands of faces, they all tended to blend together after a while for a veteran customs guard like him.

Like so Bob’s and Billy’s day marched on, without any trouble. They did their job perfectly, making sure that no one with malicious intent passed through the gates of Casamonu.

Chapter 49: Chapter XLVI – March before me faithfully and be inconspicuous.

Chapter Text

“…that’s why we went all the way around to the Southern gate?” Ayomide couldn’t help but look upwards to the ceiling while passing through the gate. The stone gate and the two-stories-tall wall that surrounded it looked quite impressive to say the least. She could see more guards watch them through slits in the ceiling.

“Yes, Bobby is famous for being lax. Anyone in the know makes sure to go through him.” Shinasi looked back at Billy. “I was worried a bit when I saw his new assistant.”

Brown was walking alongside them, watching the walls in a similar fashion to Ayomide. He wasn’t fascinated by the architecture however; old Brown was concerned with thinking about how he’d siege these down. A cannon could make short work of the walls. Brown thought of the copper mine in Mount Curry: with a bit of tin that copper could be turned into bronze and that bronze cast into a cannon. Then the issue came down to gunpowder, but the people of this world seemed to have already figured it out. It was likely that the natives of Gemeinplatz had already manufactured cannons as well. Perhaps Brown would need to be on the lookout for an engineer who knew how.

His thoughts of smashing the chains of slavery with 64-pounds of solid iron vengeance were briefly interrupted when the city of Casamonu came into view. Compared to Azdavay it was a grand settlement, for the standards of Gemeinplatz anyways, housing more than ten thousand people inside its walls. For the first time Brown saw buildings that were taller than two floors, some adventurous architects having gone up to four floors.

The crowds of people travelling between these building was equally grand as well, with Brown having to constantly say “Excuse me.” while passing by passersby. The sun could barely manage to make its way amongst all the buildings. The tents and stalls of the countless shopkeepers were left in the cool shade which was a welcome change after having to travel all the way under the summer sun to Casamonu. All the colors that could be reasonably found on not-Earth were on display to tempt customers into parting ways with their precious money.

Brown approached on of these shops to take a look at the textiles, only to be rudely interrupted by Shinasi tapping his shoulders. “What is it, young man?”

“Old man, the customs guards would rob us blind if you tried to get these out of the city in their view.” There was a building in sight that had a sign with a bundle of cloth and a thin bottle drawn on it. “See that building? That’s the United Guild of Textile Manufacturers & Winemakers. They don’t like it when you try to export their stuff without permission. I’ve had my fair share of problems with them.” One didn’t need to guess what Shinasi had difficulties exporting out of the city.

Brown looked quite displeased. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner, young man?” The economy of Gemeinplatz seemed way too protectionist for a man who came from the United States of America.

“Oh, don’t you worry.” Shinasi looked quite relaxed compared to Brown. “A good adventurer has his ways. Follow me.” He led his party out of the crowded market square. Shinasi marched a fair way inside the city before he slipped inside a deserted backstreet which the sun had forsaken. Brown and co had to march in single file formation, the street being as small as a slave’s quarters. Shinasi went down a small set of stairs going down from the road, where an inconspicuous door lay. He knocked on it a few times, leaning toward the door and shouting out “Oh the grand city of Ancoire, whine not! Your day hath come”.

The backstreet looked like it’d have no living souls in it, but to the surprise of Brown there was a reply that echoed from the other side of the door. “Shall we make amends for when the day comes?”

“You needn’t make any amends for thine sins hath already been forgiven by the One above.”

With Shinasi’s enigmatic reply the door opened an equally enigmatic figure who immediately shut the door, leaving only a small slit for their voice to be heard. “Didn’t I tell you not to bring friends?!”

“Come on Ayda, they’re going to be your clients.” Shinasi tried to ply the door open with his spear to no avail. “Is this how you treat an old friend bringing you customers?”

“Customers?” The door slipped open a tiny little bit. “You aren’t tricking me, are you? Because the last time you came in with a bunch of ‘customers’, and all you did with them was party around and trash the place.”

“Young man, that is not okay.”

“You can berate me later, old man! Ahem, no, these are actual customers.” Shinasi’s spear suddenly slipped from his hand when the door suddenly opened. He’d have actually hit the woman behind the door if not for the woman grabbing hold of the spear with her bare hands.

“Be careful.” Ayda pushed the spear away, almost knocking down Shinasi in the process. “You should use a crowbar if you want to ply open doors. The penalty for murder is much greater than that of thievery, so try not to kill people.” She was quite the tall woman, standing at equal height to John Brown. Her arms had enough muscle to repel a dozen spears if need be, making her stand out as an intimidating figure. The woman’s pure black hair, in a spiky and messed up fashion all to similar to Shinasi’s, flowed down to meet her pure black eyepatch, her only functioning eye scanning the old man and the catgirl. “Good. You were going to leave with a few broken bones if you came here to party with your friends again.”

John Brown (currently travelling under the pseudonym of Isaac Smith) and Ayomide briefly introduced themselves to the woman. She didn’t care to introduce herself, only going inside into her shop. Shinasi followed her inside, so did the others after him. The room inside was a dimly lit one with only a small window to the outside letting light in. It was filled with boxes and barrels of various shapes and sizes, all of them having labels (illegible to everyone in the group) of some sort on them. The walls of the room were cluttered with empty bookshelves of unknown purpose. “All of you, turn around.” Only Shinasi turned around with the first command. “Turn around I say!” The rest of the group followed with the second. They all heard shuffling sounds, before a sudden audible click.

“Feel free to stop looking at the wall now.” Upon her command Brown and Ayomide turned back, unable to contain their curiosity. To their surprise they found that a spot in the floor had opened up, one that lead downwards to an even danker basem*nt. “Follow me.” The only calm person in the group was Shinasi, who seemed to have done this a million times before, the others were looking around anxiously while they followed the woman into the dark basem*nt. Another bout of shuffling began before an oil lamp attached to the ceiling lit up. There was no visible source for the fire except for a small blaze on the tip of Ayda’s hands.

The room was quite small as expected from the basem*nt of such a cramped building. Half f it was occupied by a desk in the middle which had writing implements and tacks of papers on it full of text. The wooden walls had countless maps attached to it, all of them full of markings pointing to various locations. It was as shady as basem*nts could get.

Ayda put the oil lamp on the desk, slowly and carefully to make sure it doesn’t go out. She sat on an armchair which stood out as the most expensive thing on the room. The woman made herself comfortable, leaning back and firmly planting her shoes on the desk.

“So, what’s your deal then?”

Chapter 50: Chapter XLVII – Speak before her carefully and be inconspicuous.

Chapter Text

Brown wasn’t a stranger to conducting shady business; the Beecher’s Bibles didn’t ship themselves. The laws of men, like tariffs, were below the laws of the Lord, like abolition. Judging from all the maps in the room, and what had prompted Shinasi to bring him here, Brown had a guess as to what this place might be. “Is this something like a smuggler’s den?”

“No, we’re a charity taking care of stray kittens. We sometimes invite Shinasi to hold fundraiser parties.” answered the woman. This obviously sarcastic remark, delivered in such a dry manner that sucked all the humor out of it, prompted yet another moment of awkward silence. The woman took her shoes off the table and leaned in to have a closer look at her clients. “Of course this is a smuggling den! Why are you people here if you don’t even know that? Bloody hell…” She took hold of a quill and a clean sheet of paper to write on while adding on more complaints under her breath. “So, what do you need? We’ve got it all as long as you have the coin, especially booze. A new shipment just came in from Ancoire, and we’re having a flash sale.” Ayda had quickly calmed down and assumed the demeanor of a good businesswoman.

Shinasi was about to inquire about the booze, but Brown quickly interrupted him before he could throw away their money. “We’re looking not for luxury, but for basic items. Wool, cloth, any good textiles you might have.”

The woman began quickly jotted down some words on to her paper. “I see, been a while since we’ve had merchants coming around to visit us.” she said, not bothering to look up from the paper. The purpose of Brown’s request, or anything else didn’t interest her at all, the only thing that interested Ayda was one thing. “She extended her hand forward, with an open palm. “How much are we talking about?” Her hands were met with a great weight, the weight belonging to a sizable sack of coins. “Oh?” Ayda quickly opened the sack, the light reflecting off of the coins lighting her face. The businesswoman counted all the coins in a brisk pace, every libra lightening up her face. She bit on a few of them, put some on a scale, and even threw the coins on the table to listen them jingle and confirm that they were real. “Mister Brown, I think I’m beginning to like you.” Her respect for him had grown as large as the sack of money. She added a few numbers next to the items she had previously noted. “It’ll take a day… or two to fulfill your request.” She took out a small slip of paper, and wrote down a few things on it before handing it to Brown. “Do not lose this or let any filthy guards get their hands on this. I won’t be getting in trouble if that happens, but you will.” She extended her hand towards Brown, intending to seal the deal officially. “My agents will find you when the time is right. Do not leave Casamonu under any circ*mstances.”

Brown accepted Ayda’s offer of shaking hands. Her grip was tight, and the old man could hear his bones protest during their brief shake. He definitely disapproved of her uncouth tongue, and her general unchristian behavior, but Brown held his tongue for now. “I pray that our relationship proves to be fruitful Miss Ayda.”

Ayda smiled, her one eye on the money which had been left on her counter. “I feel that it has been more than fruitful already.” She opened the hatch back to the ground floor and put out the oil lamp. “Farewell now, it is better for us to not stay here for too long.” She led them out the room, and graciously opened the door out herself only to find another guest outside. “Oh?” It was someone wearing full plate armor, conspicuously painted full black. “Mister Kim, what a pleasure it is to see you once more.”

“My name is not that! You’re to call me Sir Schwarz von Limburg-Liechtenstein when I’m armored.” He tried to pass the door, but was blocked by Brown and co. Both parties shuffled around for a few seconds before they were able to find a suitable arrangement and pass by each other.

Shinasi looked back at the building with jealousy. “That guy must be rich with all that armor.” He’d have loved to be armored like an armadillo, alas, all he had was a shield which was the bare minimum for a tank.

“Eh, all you have to do is push him into a river. Or a swamp. Or use light magic right in his helmet so he goes blind, falls, and is unable to get up…” Ayomide listed a few more ways to brutally kill of an armored tank, which it didn’t please Shinasi to have so much vitriol thrown towards his class. “Heavier the armor, quicker the fall I’d say.”

Brown was leading them to back to the square, where he planned to fight accommodations for the night before planning anything further. “Hmm… I believe that could make quite the good analogy.” Brown loved a good analogy, especially if it was biblical. He marched onwards, his mind occupied with allegories and aphorisms.

28^th of Summer, 5859
Libertycave, Mount Curry

The Devil doesn’t sleep, neither does Harriet Tubman in her quest to avert his machinations.

Brown going on a quest didn’t mean that the entirety of Libertycave had stopped working, on the contrary they were working harder than before thanks to their improved quality of life. Everyone had a mud hut for themselves, the ransomed tools certainly helped and Baha’s copperworkers invented novel solutions for anything that was missing. Like their newly made copper bowls, affectionately nicknamed the “Mark 1 bowl” or “M1”, which doubled as helmets when turned upside down. Or the new “spoonforknife”, which was a spoon, fork and a knife all-in-one utensil which eliminated the need to forge separate cutlery. It was a stubby little device, with a bowl (like a spoon), tines on aforementioned bowl (like a fork) and a sharp edge on the sides (like a knife). What’d be made impossible by byzantine system of guild-imposed regulations or the whip of an overseer had become possible under the free and fresh air of Mount Curry.

All that progress would be for naught however, if they weren’t marching on in a forward fashion in their quest for abolition. Compared to the more fire-and-brimstone Brown, Tubman was more the type to be more cautious and take things slowly. Not out of any lack of zealousness, she had more than enough of that and she approved of Brown’s actions, but more out of a desire to not be shot dead by the U.S. Marines while leading people to safety. A dead Tubman was a sleeping Tubman, and who’s to keep the Devil in check then?

Kyauta entered Tubman’s “office”, currently a small hut right outside the cave of Libertycave. “Miss Tubman, our team just returned from the farms to the north. Most of those seem to be populated by the peasantry.” Unlike what one might expect from an office, there was no paper or ink to be found, only a copy of the map Brown had found in the Algernon estate. Tubman was illiterate, so was the rest of her men, not that she needed letters to do her job. What was she going to do, send a strongly worded letter to the Emperor and ask him kindly to stop enslaving her people?

“Nothing interesting.” She crossed off some of the locations to the north on the map with a piece of charcoal. “Those slavers seem to be mostly working sugar beets and tobacco.” It made sense for the slaves to be working cash crops. Less cash (or no cash) paid to workers meant more cash for the boss, the only caveat being that this meant there’d be abolitionists in the local area dying to meet you. What’s worse was, no matter how hot they were, hot singles in your local area couldn’t burn down your house; abolitionists in your local area could and would.

“Then, should we go about like we did in Azdavay?” Kyauta seemed more than ready for action. Her knife was always strapped to her belt, and she never took off the gambeson. The Lord liked those who were vigilant, or so she had heard from Tubman.

“No, no. It’s not time yet for another full-on uprising Miss Kyauta. Let our oppressors think that they’re safe.” She rose up from her chair, her old bones creaking under the pressure. She took her staff, one that was mainly used as a cane and an oratory tool. “I hear the voice of the Lord last night, in all His endless glory.”

“What’d that be, Miss Tubman?” Kyauta approached closer to the old abolitionist to hear her more clearly. Her visions hadn’t failed them back in Azdavay, or when Tubman first found Kyauta, so her trust was utmost.

“He told me that we should not grow compliant, that our achievements are great but we are growing too proud.” She looked out from the hut, to the small village that had been formed. Everything looked fine, for now. “That we were but a small flock, a flock remaining still while wolves circle in around us. Idleness, sloth, it is a great sin, and the Lord won’t have it!” She slammed the ground with her cane fiercely. It was surprising how much life the old woman had in her. “The Lord told me, that we must make His flock larger and our grazing grounds wider!”

“Erm…” Kyauta wasn’t sure what to think. She honestly hoped that God, in His infinite wisdom, would be less cryptic especially to someone who didn’t know a lot about shepherds. She had been the personal bodyguard of a noble way back home before she was captured and sold into slavery, and her life had involved combat even after that. Pastoral life was as much of a stranger to Kyauta as freedom was.

Tubman seemed raring to go; it was as if she had suddenly gotten thirty years younger. Her staff shook the earth with her every step, signaling to the world that Harriet Tubman was arriving in all her glory. “Come, let us go. We must do the work that our Lord has given us.”

Chapter 51: Chapter XLVIII – Be frisked here carefully and act innocent.

Chapter Text

28-29^th of Summer, 5859
Adventurer’s Guild of Casamonu, Casamonu (where else would it be?)

Up on the second floor of the adventurer’s guild building, Brown and co. had lodged themselves firmly in the cheapest straw bedding imaginable to man. The “Adventurer’s Guild” wasn’t an all-encompassing international institution like it is in other otherworlds, instead being independent organizations regulating (or throttling) business like any other guild. This meant that quality varied greatly between Adventurer Guild to Adventurer Guild, and one even had to pay for multiple membership fees at once if they thought about working in different cities like Shinasi had done for Azdavay and Casamonu. One could only wonder what Adam Smith would end up writing if he was isekai’d into Gemeinplatz.

Straw, as one might be able to guess, was not the most comfortable of all beddings. It makes you scratch, it makes you itch, and you have to be careful not to wake up with a piece of straw making its way deep into your precious nose. Every move you make makes the countless pieces crunch and rustle, making for unbearable noise when you have twenty people lined up in the same cramped room. Not to mention the smell of twenty unwashed adventurers… Even worse, this was accommodation for freemen. Most adventurers fortunate enough to own a slave of course didn’t want to pay for the slave’s bedding, and the straw in the guild’s stables was free to rest on for members. The stables added a lovely layer of “horse dung” on top of things which definitely didn’t help improve the experience for most.

Thankfully, for Ayomide, her being a slave was just for disguising purposes. Brown had been met with a few protesting voices when he had brought a darkskin to the “first-class” section of the guild, but they died down when Shinasi made some excuse about “Sir Smith” needing to attend an important meeting soon and not wanting his slave to smell alongside him. Still, Ayomide could swear a couple of the adventurers deliberately disposed of their unneeded trash items right next to her. Gritting her teeth, she exercised patience and sufficed by dreaming about beating a bunch of them to a bloody pulp while taking no prisoners; actually taking no sh*t and beating everyone who threw an insult your way was a luxury reserved those who were privileged enough to not be lynched for it.

The night marched on and then off, all visitors in the guest room having a fun time turning and tumbling around the straw. No matter how much he tried, Brown couldn’t find a position which wouldn’t result in his back aching as if the Devil had come to personally torture him. Him waking up was as torturous as well, before the sun had barely risen the guild’s guest room had surprise visitors who woke everyone up. A trio of people ran up to the stairs, causing quite a ruckus before entering the room itself. “This way, the adventurers rest here.” They were led by a nervous guild receptionist with a clipboard on his hand. He was flanked by two guards with the distinct bright yellow of the count’s customs officers.

Before any of the adventurers could wake up and react, the receptionist began reading names from his clipboard. “Dikla the Tall of Azdavay, Ermen of Gödel, Miray of Karash…” She pointed at the owners of these names as they were read. The guards approached anyone pointed towards, quickly shaking them down while clearly searching for something. “…Parvin the Shrewd of Subash, Shinasi of Azdavay son of Shinasi of Azdavay…” Shinasi’s pockets were quickly patted down as well, the guards finding nothing but spare change. After all the adventurers were counted for, ignoring the non-adventurer guests like Brown and Ayomide, the guards conducted a shakedown of the room by searching for whatever in the haystacks. Clearly dissatisfied by not finding anything, they left the room as eagerly as they had entered it. Some of the adventurer’s reluctantly stood up from their beds, while some tried to go back to sleep as if nothing had happened.

“…Alright, what was that?” asked Shinasi while quickly pocketing his spare change which had been dropped onto the floor. Most annoyingly, two small coins from his pocket seemed to have gone missing in the hay. Seeing that he received no answers from the audience, Shinasi targeted someone amongst the audience who seemed sort of familiar. “Dikla? You’re… my eldest cousin’s second husband’s younger brother, if I remember correctly.” The brain of an average villager was usually filled to the brim with very distant relatives they saw everyday but barely cared about except for when they needed a favor. “Could you mind enlightening me?”

“Ah! We do know each other, don’t we! I sort of thought you were familiar, what a coincidence!” Dikla added a couple words which were cliché in a meeting between people who were barely related to each other. He searched the floorboards of the room, taking out a loose plank and lifting it up. Lo and behold, he had a very familiar sort of small paper. “I think you know what it is, I’m sure you couldn’t afford your famous winesoppery without some help.” He cooled himself down by flapping the paper like a fan. “Of course, I do something more productive by running a side hustle instead.”

“Yes, I think every adventurer worth their salts knows what’s up with that. I was wishing to be enlightened on the sudden visit by the yellow-vests.” I guess he just wanted to brag about his side hustle… Shinasi remembered why he didn’t like talking with far off relatives. He was essentially a stranger to his eldest cousin’s second husband’s younger brother, yet there was also a certain level of intimacy expected from talking with a blood relative which made conversation feel forced and awkward.

“Oh, the yellow-vests?” Dikla furrowed his brows at the thought of those pesky guards trying to stop his grind. “Someone must have croaked to them. Like, bloody hell, it’s supposed to be an open secret between adventurers, not a secret open to everyone!” The man looked even more annoyed at the thought. “Can’t a guy just do some small-time trading on his way to adventure, running fabric between cities without a bunch of ‘stand-up’ gits trying to ruin his job?!” He would have loved to kvetch further if not for a sleepy adventurer in the room shouting at him to shut up. Dikla had to lower his voice much to his own annoyance. “Just be careful out there. You never know when the yellow-vests come knocking.”

“We’ll be careful.” Shinasi jumped back into the hay, he still had some sleep to do. He turned to the old man while on the “bed”. “Old man, make sure to hide the paper somewhere safe.”

“Don’t worry young man, an old man of action like me has his tricks.” Brown inserted his hand to his magnificent beard, soon taking out the small slip which had been rolled up to fit. “I don’t think anyone is going to inspect an old man’s beard.” He put the slip back in, and laid his head on the hay once more. Even John Brown wasn’t going to wake up this early, God forbid.

29^th of Summer, 5859
A tobacco plantation (name as-of-yet unknown), Outskirts of Casamonu

The morning sun was slowly rising over Casamonu, slowly bringing light to its flatlands. The rolling green hills with Mount Curry looking over them in the distance, the green grass swaying under the wind and the cool breeze… It was quite the comfortable environment, the perfect one for a picnic, or a scouting mission.

Kyauta was sat on a hill overlooking a nearby plantation. The novice abolitionist was scanning the area through her hands which she had bent to a shape resembling binoculars. She could see fields of green tobacco plants along with newly harvested leaves being dried under the sun. “Miss Tubman.” she said, noticing what they had been looking for. “The overseers are coming out to play. You reckon we’ll…”

“Have time to skedaddle?” Tubman rose up from her seated position. Her old legs had been tired during her round of overlooking. “They should have come out a few hours ago if they didn’t want to give us time to skedaddle. We’ll have time to reach Gilead and cook a nice dinner while they’re still having sweet dreams.” She took a look towards the plantation herself. “What’d you think’s the best food for the new arrivals? I think that Mister Hakim would love to bake some cake with the new batch of pearl ash he cooked up.” Tubman picked up her axe she had left lodged in the ground, an axe brought along just in case of abolitionist emergencies. “Let’s go. We’ll go in tonight.”

“To-Tonight?!” Kyauta stopped looking at the plantation to look at Tubman. “Don’t we need to… I don’t know, prepare?” She didn’t know what exactly they needed to prepare, but Kyauta had reservations about risking her life once more.

Tubman was already making her way towards a spot she intended to camp on. “Every day that we prepare means more suffering for our brothers and sisters.” She swung her axe around as if it was a whip. “You see? With the Lord above watching and guiding us, we should be more than ready.”

Chapter 52: Chapter XLIX – Walk before them faithfully and be hidden.

Chapter Text

29^th of Summer, 5859
Adventurer’s Guild of Casamonu, Casamonu

“Mmh… Is it morning or not?” Morning had come, and the sun wasn’t shining on anyone’s faces. Not out of any weather-related or supernatural reasons, but out of the fact that the adventurer’s guild in Casamonu had bricked up its windows. Glass was expensive, and a “window tax” had been implemented pretty recently by the count making having needless windows a bother for businesses. The upper classes would just pay the count off to continue having their precious windows, while the rural nobility was unaffected by the petty taxation concerns of the pesky city folk. Ayomide knew none of that, all she could do was try her best to understand how much she had slept by gauging how sleepy she felt at the moment.

Shinasi slowly rose up as well. He had woken up upon hearing Ayomide. “Who knows when they’ve removed the windows? Only one way to find out.” He got up on his own two feet and waited for Ayomide to do the same. “It seems the old man has already bailed.”

“Oh? Oh.” Ayomide looked around her to find that, indeed, there was no other radical abolitionists in her local area. “I did find it weird that no one woke me up. He’s probably gone out to take a walk or something.”

“You’re probably right.” Shinasi checked his pockets, finding a very dry piece of hardtack courtesy of Hakim. “Let’s just eat something downstairs. Maybe we’ll find him there.”

The pair went down the stairs, entering the wide hall of the Adventurer’s Guild of Casamonu. Unlike the disappointing guest room upstairs, the big city had a decent enough dining hall and reception area. The tables had been newly cleaned, a job that took a long time thanks to adventurers drinking away every night and leaving a mess behind them. There were windows on the ground floor, which meant that the precious morning sun could actually be seen newly rising up. The dining part was mostly abandoned this early in the morning, except for…

“…that’s why me like America, you know? You buy tank and ride legally; it is okay to do!” The black knight from gushing about the United States in broken English to a certain someone.

“…how do you ‘ride a tank’ young man? Tanks are meant to contain liquid, not passengers as far as I am aware.” John Brown was the target of this gushing, and it seemed that he wasn’t really managing it well.

“I was wondering how you could drive a tank as well.” said a woman wearing a very tall witch’s hat, so tall that one couldn’t forget it even if they saw it once.

“A tank…” The black knight went silent for a second. One couldn’t see whether he was thinking or not thanks to the helmet covering his face. “It’s like a golem on wheels. You ride it and go to battle.”

“Ah, I see.” The witch nodded, clearly satisfied by the answer.

“A golem… on wheels? Wouldn’t a golem have legs to move around?” All Brown vaguely knew of golems were that they were beings from Jewish folklore, humanoid creatures made out of mud or clay who followed orders without question. He was confused as to how or why someone would ride such a thing to battle.

“No, some of them don’t have legs. Most don’t actually, golems with legs are hard to balance.” replied the witch. “Wheels are much common in the ancient golems I’ve seen. Fierce things those are, you can barely pierce through their steel armor. Thankfully they’re also really dumb.”

“Dumb hunks of steel on wheels…” Brown had a eureka moment, remembering their surprise encounter in the supposedly ‘minor’ dungeon. “Do those steel ones appear in minor dungeons?”

“Of course not! There wouldn’t be anyone left alive in the guild if that was the case.” replied the witch. “If an old man like you sees one, the best thing you can do is run away and call us for help.”

The dark knight patted his precious zweihander which he had leaned against the wall. “Yes, we can take care of them. For a price, of course.” He was smiling at the end, though no one could see from the giant hunk of steel covering his head.

“Yes, this tin can can open all other tin cans, can’t he?” She gently nknocked on the knight’s helmet, which caused him to feel as if his head was being pecked by a dozen woodpeckers.

“Tangerina! Didn’t I tell you not to do that?!” The black knight’s gaze moved towards an anachronously designed clock on the wall. “Come on, it’s time we go.” He got up, and extended his hands towards John Brown while speaking in English. “I am glad meeting American who isn’t loser.”

Brown was taken aback by how direct the man sounded, but he shook his hands out of formality nonetheless. “Have a nice day.” He intended to go back to staring out the window, contemplating the nature of God and existence and whatnot, until he noticed his party members watching him from afar. “Oh, good morning young lady and young man. I see you two are early.”

“Good morning old man, I see you’ve found a new conversation partner.” replied Shinasi, taking a seat in front of Brown. He took out his hardtack and began eating it for breakfast.

“No, they found me.” He began taking a look out the window, unable to resist Casamonu’s otherworldly sights. “The gentleman in black armor suddenly asked if I was American. I said yes, and he suddenly started gushing about it.” Brown looked bored and tired from the conversation he had. Not understanding half of anything that was said made it hard to derive any entertainment. “I do wonder how the 21^st century is…” He wasn’t sure whether things had gone better or worse as far as what he knew from the rumors.

“We’re in the 59^th century, old man. I think you’re wondering about the wrong time.” He took a bite out of his hardtack, joining Brown in navel-gazing. “I do wonder how I’m going to be by the time the 60^th century arrives.”

“You’re gonna be the old man by then.” replied Ayomide. Truth be told, she hadn’t gotten enough time to think of the future, not to mention not having had a future to think of to begin with. Would she, or, would they be still alive by then? Unlike Brown, she was young, young enough to have a timespan of a couple decades to think about in terms of a future.

They all sat silently, unsure of what to do next. There wasn’t much for them to engage in while waiting for the okay signal to come from the smugglers. Brown tapped his fingers on the desk, Shinasi whistled a tune, and Ayomide stomped her foot…

“Ayomide!” shouted Shinasi suddenly.

“Wha?!” The catgirl jumped back from the sudden noise; Brown was too deep into religious contemplation to notice the noise. She looked around her, not seeing anything urgent that warranted Shinasi’s sudden exclamation. “What’s the sudden shout for?!”

Shinasi’s stopped, having lost a bit of courage after Ayomide’s reaction. Still, he had just slaid a golem, and the young adventurer was filled with enough courage to continue after a pause. “Wo-Would you like to go out and eat something together while we wait?!”

“Yes! Why are you shouting?!”

“Why are we shouting?!” Shinasi coughed after having strained his vocal cords so much. They had both gotten a bit nervous to say the least, and Brown was looking at them with confused eyes after having missed the first part of their conversation / shouting match.

29^th of Summer, 5859
Rogers’ Plantation, Outskirts of Casamonu

Night had fallen upon Gemeinplatz once more, and the grueling work of harvesting and processing tobacco was done for the day. Most slaves sleeping in the slave quarters loved the night as it forced their masters to give them a break; no sane person could expect work during nighttime barring expensive lighting options. This was true for the slaves living in the plantation of one Sir Rogers, who were on the only true break from work they got for the entire day. Yesterday was work, today was even more work, and tomorrow would be a whole lot more work until they inevitably perished.

One slave amongst the countless was slowly dragging his feet back to the quarters, intending to be the last one to go in. The quarters indoors were cramped and stunk like how one would expect a cramped room filled with twenty people to stink. He’d go back as slowly as possible to take in the fresh air before an overseer would rush him along.

Fresh and free air, there was plenty of it to be had outside the plantation. It wouldn’t actually be that hard to escape outside the plantation, especially at nighttime. He thought of doing it countless times, but just escaping outside didn’t mean you were free. There was a hostile world out there, most escapees would be found and sent back in a week or two if they were lucky, and the punishments for fugitives were the type to be not spoken of openly. Reaching Zon’guldac was a dream held by everyone, but only the naïve tried to realize their dream only to end up dead in a wild ditch or hunted down by adventurers. He again thought of bashing a careless overseer, the only one in his sight, and making a run for it. Thought was the only thing one could give to such a thing. He turned back, making his way back to the slave quarters as to not be punished.

“Hey brother, got a light?” He turned around at the sudden female voice behind him. It was a woman clad fully in black, and the overseer from before was nowhere to be seen.

“N-No…” He paused, unsure whether to comply with this stranger. “But the kitchen should help you if you’re looking for light.” There was no harm in helping the woman whatever she was doing.

“Good. Go back to your quarters and inform your brothers and sisters to be ready. You probably won’t need this, but…” She took out a small spear from under her cloak and handed it to him “Hold off any unexpected visitors.”

“Huh, wha-” The woman quickly leaped back into the shadows before he could question anything. “There she goes…”

He was grateful for having paused to take a whiff of fresh air.

Chapter 53: Chapter L – Escape from there quickly and be free.

Chapter Text

29^th of Summer, 5859
Casamonu, Casamonu (Casamonu)

It was approaching night, and Shinasi had one huge wrench stuck into the works of his plan to go on a dinner date with Ayomide:

“No sir, we don’t allow darkskins here.”

“No slaves.”

“Get yourself and your dirty, stinky dark whor* out of here!”

Reactions were mixed to say the least, but most places didn’t deign themselves to accept Ayomide. Not taking in potential customers was bad for business, sure, but taking in a catgirl? That’d probably drive away a whole lot more customers, and nobody wants to drive away customers. Shinasi and Ayomide circled around Casamonu once more, but they got the same response.

“I should’ve just stayed in the guild and not made us go through all that trouble…” grumbled Shinasi, finding himself a clean-enough spot next to the pavement. Walking around so much had tired them, especially when they hadn’t gotten to eat anything. “I’m so sorry.”

Ayomide sat on a spot next to him, watching the pedestrians pass by. Most of them took a look at her of course, catgirls weren’t that common, but that gaze of curiosity quickly turned to disgust when onlookers realized the dark shade of her skin. There were also the occasional gazes of lust, those felt even worse to be subject to. She couldn’t comfortably rest here. Ayomide quickly got back up. “Let’s just go back to the old man.” The young adventurer followed after her, beginning their way back to the adventurer’s guild building. He looked around him, seeing the passing crowd. The catgirl would most likely by dead if they didn’t think she was with him; harming private property was no go. The only thing keeping her alive was the threat of being fined by the state, which wasn’t the most pleasant of thoughts.

Brown was a naïve idiot, Ayomide thought, for considering the people of Gemeinplatz worthy of some sort of salvation. People in this city, people in all of Gemeinplatz, they were part of a crime worthy of summary execution according to her. That guy over there who just spat in front of her, the other one who had almost grabbed her behind, the lady just now who deliberately almost tripped her… All of them, damn all of them to an early grave! Ayomide had delved so deep into her thoughts that she hadn’t processed the fact that she and Shinasi had stopped in front of a stall.

“Here you go.” said Shinasi, handing over a freshly baked loaf of bread filled with molten cheese. “It isn’t the sort of fine dining I’d normally treat a fine lady to, but we’ll have to make do.”

Ayomide stared at the piece of bread in her hand, then back at Shinasi. “Do you normally get to treat any ladies?”

“Oh, erm…” Shinasi took a bite out of his own loaf, chewing slow as he can to buy some time. Eventually he had to give an answer “I had a childhood friend from the village who I attempted to court when I was much younger, she… She rejected me by coating me in a bucketful of cow dung.” He took another bite to drown out the memory. “Then there was my adventuring companion, Shakira, who flat out rejected me with the flat side of her giant sword.” He took one more bite. “And there was Ayda, who called me a ‘shield-bearing shrimp… Ahem.” Shinasi paused after having recounted his vibrant love life. He needed to urgently redirect the conversation somewhere else. “Come on, it’s good, eat up.”

Ayomide objected not to taking a bite, she was pretty hungry after all. She spoke while still chewing her food, an action shunned by polite society. “Mm… Consider yourself lucky to be rejected all those times, ‘cause you got me in the end.”

“Wait, wait!” Shinasi coughed a few times, almost having choked on his food. “That implies you aren’t rejecting me.”

Ayomide couldn’t help but laugh in response to the man’s statement. “What, you think I was here just to get free food? That was one of the reasons to be honest, I’ll never say no to free food. It’s not the primary reason however, I’d have taken a walk with you free food or not. I’m… happy to have spent the time with you, even if this time was just emptily wandering the streets.”

Shinasi looked around him, seeing that they had managed to walk into a more deserted area of the city. Good, no one to judge me if I do it right now. He opened his arms, frozen in place like a scarecrow planted on a field.

“Uhm…” Ayomide looked at Shinasi’s ridiculous posture, wondering what the man was trying to do. “Err… Are you expecting something?”

Shinasi nodded, but this didn’t help Ayomide understand anything at all. He finally gave in, gathering his courage to break the silence. “I- I kind of hoped to embrace you, but I kind of lost the courage halfway through…” His arm was beginning to shake, both out of nervousness and out of being tired from his scarecrow posture. “…this is basically the furthest I’ve ever gotten…” …with someone who I didn’t have to pay the nunnery for, he finished silently.

“Oh? I thought you were going insane or something.” She opened her own arms as well, slowly approaching him. “Just beware that I’ve never done this before.”

I’m pretty sure no one needs any experience to hug someo- “Puah! Ah, Ayo- Ayomideaargh! Be a bit gentler! Please!” He flailed around for his life before Ayomide released him. “Phew, I’m alive…”

“Huh? Aren’t you supposed to embrace people tightly?”

“Tightly, yes, but not enough to kill them! Like this.” Shinasi wrapped his arms around Ayomide gently.

“Ooh, I get it now! I always wondered how people could stay calm when being embraced.” Ayomide wrapped her arms in response, causing Shinasi to preemptively wince in pain. Thankfully, her embrace was a whole lot gentler this time.

This pair deemed to be unholy by the Temple and society at large stayed a while in this warm embrace, out of view and out of mind.

30^th of Summer, 5859
Rogers’ Plantation, Outskirts of Casamonu

The night had gone and the sunlight had come out once more to reveal what had been hidden the night before in the plantation. What was hidden wasn’t all to pleasant to some people however.

“Sir, we just managed to put it out.”

The charred remains of a shack, still smoldering in its grave. Blackened remains of wood, earth, and corpses mixed together into one gruesome mix. Buckets of water rested near this pile, once having been filled by the water used to put out the fire. All in all, a sight that’s none too pleasant to experience for most people, especially when you’re the owner of the shack and the people who burnt down. “Do you know what happened?”

The overseer could only shake his head and shrug in response to Sir Rogers’ question. “We don’t know, sir. The shack seems to have caught fire in the middle of the night, and all the slaves seemed to have burnt under it. We heard their screams all night.”

“Shacks don’t usually do that, do they?” Mister Rogers seemed calm, but he was near breaking down on the inside. He was screwed like a screwdriver screwing a screw. “Tell Sir Kim that none of our deliveries will be coming through this month.” A plantation without slaves was a plantation without anyone working, and the loss of a slave also meant the loss of a very valuable financial asset. People weren’t very cheap to buy, nor were they quick to be trained in the ways of processing tobacco. This was basically the end for Rogers financially, even if he had yet to internalize it. He was too worried to notice that a few of his overseers had gone missing as well.

A few kilometers away from Rogers and his plantation were the supposedly dead slaves making their escape through the mountains, led by Harriet Tubman herself aided by Kyauta. The line of slaves following behind her had one question, “Madame, do you think they’ll find us?”

Harriet Tubman had one answer, “’course not. They think you’re buried under the shack right now.”

“But won’t they notice that the bodies are lightskins?”

“The Lord makes us all equal in death, especially so if death involves being burned. Those folk should be looking like nothing but charcoal.” Tubman raised her voice to let the rest of the crowd hear her “From now on you’re all dead men according to the rest of the world. Do not think of returning to the plantation, I’ve seen some cowards attempt that before.” She then raised her axe to show it prominently “You won’t make it far if you attempt to go back, I assure you. Got that? I won’t be having mercy on anyone who runs back.” The fugitives were all silent, mostly due to being face-to-face with a woman carrying a large axe, but their slightly terrified faces made it clear that they understood. Some were worried that they may be being led to a place worse than the plantation, considering that the idea of a slave haven in the mountains sounded too good to be true. For all they knew, Harriet was just stealing them away to be worked in the copper mines.

The caravan of fugitives made their long-winded way up the mountain, the air getting colder and hopes dropping as they went higher up. Not much hope had been left by the time Harriet Tubman stopped on a nondescript plateau. “Here we are, welcome to Gilead.” She led the confused crowd, who were unable to see anything other than an empty plateau, until paradise arrived.

“Paradise” was a bunch of mud huts strewn around up on a cliff, but paradise it was for paradise is wherever one is free. Harriet lowered her axe at last, turning to address the crowd. “Brothers and sisters, you are now free. To stay here, to go somewhere else, or to fight. But you are free.”

The crowd cheered, and celebrated their long-lost freedom for the first time in their lives.

Chapter 54: Chapter LI – He that is without sin among you.

Chapter Text

30^th of Summer, 5859
Adventurer’s Guild of Casamonu, Casamonu

Brown was emptily staring out the window of the adventurer’s guild once more. The morning sun irritated his eyes, and he could barely see the small trickle of people going about their business. He was being idle and idleness irritated him more than the sun directly shining upon his face. Outside of the theological implications of not working, Brown was bored due to not having much to do in the city other than wait. He had planned for things to be simple, back in the US things would have been as simple as finding a willing seller and striking a deal with them. But no, the Lord had decided to tax and test him through tariffs and medieval economic BS, and what a test of patience it was! Ayomide and Shinasi had began fraternizing with each other rather than the old man, leaving him even lonelier. He wasn’t much surprised to see the young’uns prefer each other rather than an old man, but still. Other than Harriet Tubman, the old man had no conversation partners who could understand him in any reasonable capacity.

“Sigh… O’ Lord, please spare some of your grace and help us…” His staring-out-the-window session was briefly cut short by an inconspicuous figure stopping right outside the window. A normal-looking man, with ordinary white tunic and brown trousers with no discernable features. This man was standing right in front of where Brown was staring out of the window from, blocking the old man’s sight. This foreign man leaned on the window, turning his back to Brown and the rest as if he had no interest in them while clasping his hands towards the back. To an outside this seemed to be the case, and Brown intended to shift around his seat to gain a view outside again. His shifting was interrupted when this ordinary man took out a small piece of paper, and clasped his hands to his back again with the paper stuck between the window and himself. It was positioned so that Brown’s body blocked the paper from being seen by anyone indoors, the paper reading (in English) “ARE YOU I.S.? KNOCK IF YES”.

I.S.? Was old J.B. an I.S.? The answer was yes, Isaac Smith was the name he had gone with when introducing himself to the folks here. He knocked on the window, and the man took out another paper, “FOLLOW”. One thing that Brown had learned was that, if there was one thing that the shady people of this world loved, it was communicating with paper. Perhaps there was some deep cultural reason behind it or, perhaps, Brown was too quick to judge shady people by the small group of shady folks he had experienced and not all of them used paper. It’d be unchristian of him to be generalizing people like that, so Brown decided to wait it out before he labelled every shady person in Gemeinplatz as a paper-user.

No matter what Brown thought of shady people, the shady people needed him to follow them, and his definitely non-shady comrades-in-arms needed to follow him in following them. His eyes followed a path towards Ayomide and Shinasi, who were busy following a long convo between themselves following their after-following up follow-up. “Young man and lady, the time has come.”

“The time has come…?” replied Shinasi, before remembering why they were here in the first place. “Right, right, right.” He got up, Ayomide following him in unseating herself. The young man knew of how the so-called Smuggler’s Guild operated with their overly dramatic calls to follow one of their agents and whatnot. He’d have liked it better if they gave a time and place to meet like any courteous person would, not aware of the fact that even organized crime is called by that name because it’s ran by an organization and not because organized crime is organized enough to work on a schedule. Some organized criminals were organized enough, sure, but these organized criminals were quite unorganized as was apparent. Perhaps they could use the help of an isekai’d mafia boss, though prospects of isekai’d mafia bosses were currently way outside what John Brown or anyone in his local area was thinking at the moment.

The trio made their way out the door of the adventurer’s guild, finding themselves becoming passersby among a large crowd of passersby. “It’s that person.” whispered Brown to Ayomide and Shinasi, pointing to the man who had become even more inconspicuous as he blended into the masses. Both of them actually didn’t get who Brown meant, so they had to suffice by following the old man following the shady man. They continued blending with the crowd for a while, not making any detours from the main road. Perhaps a hundred people passed by without awareness of the abolitionists among them. It felt quite nerve-wracking to be the abolitionists hiding in the crowd. Shinasi and Ayomide did their best to maintain a poker face as to not end up being executed, which’d be a less-than-agreeable event for them. Dying wasn’t a nice thing. Neither was living too nice for them, but death was a luxury reserved for radical abolitionists who were radically misplaced by rhetorical-or-real alien space bats.

Eventually, as Shinasi expected, they diverged somewhere along the main road to the ever-present backstreets of the city. A turn to the right, another to the left, a hop forwards and a great leap backwards, all of that combined into a confusing mess of directions. Brown had done his best to keep track of where they were going, but he was eventually lost in the midst of this alien urban sprawl. Ayomide could swear they were walking in circles, and Shinasi was barely managing to keep his mental map correctly tracking their convoluted route. He had actually faltered somewhere along the way, meaning that his carefully constructed mental map was quite useless unbeknownst to him. The smugglers were clever enough to know that it was a good idea to not have any nosy customers poking into their locations. It’d be quite the trouble if, let’s day, Shinasi was to talk to his eldest cousin’s second husband’s younger brother about having gone to [REDACTED] Street on [REDACTED] Avenue while drunk.

Backstreets turned into backerstreets and those became backeststreets as they ventured further and further into the veins of Casamonu. The buildings became so cramped that the sun no longer shone down, an indication of the less-than-light business which is conducted round these parts. Brown kept his hands close to his pockets to avoid being picked by the occasional child eyeing his material possessions. This dark part of town was also dark in another manner, being the only place where one might see free people with skin darker than pasty white. Unaccepted into any proper jobs, these freemen would either perish or enter into a life of crime to live. Most chose the latter willingly; the rest would have to “choose” the former unwillingly. Perhaps being a bit too optimistic, Brown thought that maybe they could be recruited in the future, though he had also seen how reluctant urbanites were in giving up their lives in the city to throw away their lives outside the city. He couldn’t blame them at this point, Brown wouldn’t follow some stranger to his death either. Most sane people obviously wouldn’t.

Empty thoughts of throwing away lives for strangers aside, Brown and co. had reached an end which was seemingly as dead as Watanabe Generico. They all took a pause while the not-so-inconspicuous man stopped to make a series of very confusing moves. He stomped on the ground, several times in several different places, then pushed a few loose bricks in and out of the wall. Then he pulled in a hidden rope in the wall, stomped the ground a few more times, knocked on a nearby door and tapped the wooden window frame of another nearby building. Finally, after all of these seemingly meaningless moves, a door belonging to a house he hadn’t even approached opened. No one could tell which of these moves was actually instrumental in opening the door and which were meant to misguide onlookers. The man entered the newly opened door, Brown and co. followed him in. Further following in after Brown and co. were a group of lightly armed men who had been following them discretely to make sure nobody would try to hurt the guide.

As expected, the room wasn’t the most pleasant the enter. It was dank, cramped and dark, a combination of words which don’t go well when experienced together. Inside there were a couple more people, all sitting on stacks of various textiles. They all got up when their expected guests arrived, each taking a large load for themselves. Without any words being exchanged, these porters followed the really-not-inconspicuous man into yet another hidden trapdoor, this one hidden under a badly damaged rug. Down from the trapdoor was a cramped tunnel where everyone had to march single-file to fit. There was no light, so the porters went off of their training while Brown and co. had to follow them. This tunnel had various paths leading to God-knows-where, and one would probably get lost if they hadn’t been trained to navigate it. Stuffy, claustrophobic and full of unwashed men, the tunnel was quite the unpleasant experience to be had, one that was reminiscent of the slave quarters for Ayomide (the only significiant difference being the gender of the unwashed people).

Like all tunnels, this tunnel had light at the end of it too… eventually. After solid hellish hour of transporting goods, they all saw a small point where sunlight barely reached the tunnel. The guide pushed a bunch of leaves and twigs aside to reveal that they had finally reached the surface. Brown and co. practically jumped out of the tunnel, breathing in the fresh summer air. They had been dropped into the middle of an opening in the forest, where an empty cart awaited them. Marching in line, the porters dropped the textiles into the cart one by one before they stopped to touch the grass and take a break.

“Go straight from here.” said the guide, speaking for the first time “See those markings on top of those trees? Follow them and you should come straight out to the main road.” Brown looked up to see that, as the guide said, there were big dots carved on top of the trees of the forest, all presumably leading outwards. They’d be only be properly visible from one side, which meant that following these markers from outside-to-inside would be very difficult if wanted to track back to the tunnel (which was also hidden behind a small group of bushes). Not to mention that one probably couldn’t navigate the tunnels without the guide, quite the problem for any customs guards wanting to clamp down on smugglers. “Goodbye, and we hope to conduct business with you again soon.” With this last comment, the guide gathered up the porters and entered the tunnel again.

Brown and co. were alone once more, only the birds and the bees chirping and buzzing to accompany them. The leaves gently rustled as the wind blew by, the air was quite cool thanks to this grove being isolated, and there were armed men coming out of the woods.

“Wait, who are you?!” exclaimed Ayomide upon seeing their unexpected visitors. Brown and Shinasi got ready as well, as ready as they could be with their reduced combat gear. Shinasi carried his spear, Brown had his sword and Ayomide could only reasonably bring out a concealed knife.

“The boss wouldn’t allow us to get the catgirl.” replied a big chap, carrying around a club that was as large as himself. “We’re taking over this biz for ourselves. Please come along with us, miss. We wouldn’t want to damage any cargo.” He had ten more comrades with him, all looking equally ready to capture a valuable catgirl for themselves.

Things had gone too well, and it seemed that the Lord had intervened by sending them another challenge as was required for tension to be generated in the story.

Chapter 55: Chapter LII – He that is without weaponry among you.

Chapter Text

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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 19^th century radical abolitionist to Ayomide the 59^th 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. “sh*t, 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 co*cking 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.

Chapter 56: Chapter LIII – He that is without a clue among you.

Chapter Text

30^th 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 19^th 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 circ*mstance.” 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?”

Chapter 57: Chapter LIV – He that is without a cause among you.

Chapter Text

32^th 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…

33^th 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.

Chapter 58: Chapter LV – He that is without justification among us.

Chapter Text

34^th 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…

Chapter 59: Chapter LVI – He that is without a defense against us.

Chapter Text

39^th 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…

Chapter 60: Chapter LVII – Their army is marching on.

Chapter Text

41^st 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.

Chapter 61: Chapter LVIII – Their ambush is proceeding on.

Chapter Text

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.

Chapter 62: Chapter LIX – Their lingo is discussed upon.

Chapter Text

42^nd 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 19^th-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.

Chapter 63: Chapter LX – Her lingo is discussed upon.

Chapter Text

“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.”

45^th 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…

Chapter 64: Chapter LXI – His lingo is discussed upon.

Chapter Text

45^th 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.

Chapter 65: Chapter LXII – His fort is bombarded upon.

Chapter Text

45^th 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.

45^th 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…

45^th 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 which shone brightly. “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.

Chapter 66: Chapter LXIII – Their family is found out.

Chapter Text

47^th 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…

47^th 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.

Chapter 67: Chapter LXIV – Their plans are figured out.

Chapter Text

48^th 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-19^th 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…

Chapter 68: Chapter LXV – Their postal code is found out.

Chapter Text

49^th 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 19^th century standards where the average rifle would barely fit through a door.

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?”

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

Chapter 69: Chapter LXVI – Their enemy is found out.

Chapter Text

49^th of Summer, 5859
Libertycave, Mount Curry

Today, like any other day, a scene which had recently become common up in old Mount Curry took place once more for the final time: a black knight and a tangerine witch making their rounds around the place.

“Are we there yet?” protested Tangerina, whose knees were protesting against being forced to walk up the mountain once more.

“Does it look like we’re there yet?!” Kim had taken off his helmet, though it was hard to decide whether he wanted to have his head fried with or without a tin can on his head. The summers in Northern Gemeinplatz were hot and humid, not suitable for LARPing as a knight in full black-colored plate. The otherworlder cursed himself for having chosen such an inconvenient alter-ego back in his adventuring phase; curses be to ye olde days of his edgy teenhood! Thankfully he had learned to substitute that emptiness in his soul, an emptiness where compassion and basic empathy should be, with loads of money instead of edgy antics. “You should know we’re close when you feel loads of people nearby.”

“I’ve felt a couple of people with my scan. They ran away immediately though; the fugitives must have scouts stationed in the mountains…” Tangerina immediately stopped, her face scrunching up. “Ow… Okay, I just detected a load of people. That hurt…”

“It’s time then.” Kim put his helmet on once more, his own face scrunching up the moment he smelt its insides. “Urgh, I should get Nirmal to clean this helmet once I get home.”

“…are secretaries supposed to wash their boss’ helmet?” Tangerina didn’t question further though, for her job definitely didn’t include questioning people. Her job did include climbing however, and climb up a cliff towards the fugitive camp they (painfully) did.

Once at the top, Kim saw a scene which wasn’t all too new to him. He had already seen Libertycave from far away before, and the mud (plus the occasional brick) huts didn’t look all too impressive from this closely either. What was a new sight was a formation of men ready to face him, all armed with sharp spears and even sharper intent. The first line of men were crouched down with long spears, long enough that they may even be classified as pikes, pointing forwards while the second line behind them held spear throwers which had shorter spears readied in them.

It’d be a lie to say that Kim didn’t feel nervous staring at such a large formation of men. Feeling nervous when overwhelmed by large numbers is the most natural of instincts after all. However, he kept his cool: Kim knew that he could take all of them on if need be. “Alright gentlemen… and ladies, please lower your spears. I’ve come here to talk, not fight. Don’t worry, I’m on your side.”

Being referred to as “gentlemen” by Kim had already done wonders. Some spears were lowered, while the freemen began speaking amongst themselves, while some were still suspicious of the otherworlder for being an otherworlder. Sure, the black armor looked menacing, but it would have been foolish to judge a book by the cover or a Kim by his armor. There was someone who definitely hadn’t been tempted, however. “That is all good, but I’d like to approach this with due diligence.” Out came John Brown from the middle, flanked by a rifle-wielding Harriet Tubman and a gem-wielding Ayomide No-surname-as-of-yet. Brown was amongst the tallest in the crowd; his height combined with the semi-automatic rifle he wielded made him quite the intimidating figure, or it would have if he wasn’t hiding the rifle from the direct sight of Kim. This trio were all hiding their weapons behind their backs, to not reveal their trump cards from the start.

Despite being tall, Brown hadn’t managed to get a good look at his opponent from the back. Now that he did however… “Hm? You’re familiar. Didn’t we meet back in Casamonu? And, that hat of the lady next to you is simply a design which none would never forget.”

“Migugin!” Kim too was surprised with this chance encounter. “This was last place I expect American!” He confused everyone except Brown and Tubman by speaking “gibberish”, more commonly known as “English”. The freemen were a bit confused at the fact that they were witnessing an ostensibly amicable conversation instead of fierce battle.

“I see. He must be the Mr. Kim that the letter mentioned.” said Brown in a volume only heard by those next to him. Then he continued with a shout towards Kim “Then, do let us know of why you’re here.”

“A- As I said, to help your revolution against the Empire of Gemeinplatz.” Kim took out a wooden stick crowned with a steel tube. It looked to be all new and crafted with an otherworldly level of craftsmanship. “I have these hand cannons set for production, ready to go.” Getting a prototype ready so quickly had been quite the challenge for Kim, from the design to the production to making sure it doesn’t violate any international treaties… “I only have one request, though calling it a request would be wrong since this would be of benefit to you all as well.”

Brown had the sneaking suspicion that Kim’s deal would be too good to be true. “What would that be?”

“It’s simple, really. I have many more gifts to bestow upon you, I have grand plans for Gemeinplatz as a whole.” His helmet hid it all, but one could practically feel the smile creeping upon Kim’s face. “If I am to provide you patronage, then I’d like to be the one who leads you as well. The one who leads Gemeinplatz into a new future, and you into freedom.”

Thus it was, Kim’s plan that he had cooked up during a [insert brand of energy drink]-fueled session of planning. The Empire was bad for business, with all the tariffs, the annoying guilds and the snobby feudal lords… Chattel slavery too, that was bad for business; Kim preferred underpaid workers to slaves. At least the former held onto an illusion of freedom he could exploit. Back home in Korea, workers would rather end themselves rather than end the system exploiting them. They’d vote for the people exploiting them as long as they were promised some vague enemy to deal with. Wouldn’t it have been more convenient if Kim was to lead a movement of abolition and be the one who got to restructure Gemeinplatz in such a manner with him being on top? Get himself to be king, president, whatever, and get all the newly-freed slaves working for him in gratitude... They probably wouldn’t care about the work as long as their lives had improved by the littlest bit.

No matter how greatly Kim thought of himself however, the freemen didn’t look all too eager to be led by some strange otherworlder. Sure, Brown fit that description as well, but he was the strange otherworlder who was actively fighting for them. Plus, Brown hadn’t actually bothered to officially declare himself as a leader yet, and much of the day-to-day decision making was made by the freemen themselves without any intervention from Captain Brown. This foreign man in black armor didn’t inspire much trust in anyone. “That isn’t my decision to make. If the fine folk here want to follow you, then I have nothing that I can do or say.” Looking at the cynical expressions on the faces of the freemen made it clear that they weren’t going to follow Kim anywhere. “It seems that we won’t be reaching an agreement.”

“Really?” Kim took off his helmet to look at everyone face-to-face. “Look at me. I’ll lead you to victory. I cannot lead you anywhere if I’m not your leader.”

Suddenly a shocked voice from the back cried out. “Wait, are you that Kim?!” It was Watanabe, who had seen a semi-familiar face pop out from under the helmet. “I remember seeing you on the news, ‘the genius youth from South Korea who became a millionaire overnight with cryptocurrency’!”

The crowd was shocked. What the hell was a “cryptocurrency”, and why did Watanabe know about this guy? “I had invested in your bloody crypto exchange before I died! Do you know how much that cost me?!” Watanabe threw a rock at Kim, who dodged the low-level rock easily. “You were somehow worse than Sam Bankman-Fried, you scamming bast-”

Watanabe’s angry rant was cut short by a swift wave of water, coming from the direction of Tangerina, sweeping him off his feet and face first into a puddle of mud. Still, he didn’t stop. The errant otherworlder and former crypto investor pulled his face out of the mud and continued, “This guy isn’t going to be leading us anywhere but failure.” He picked up and threw another rock towards Kim, who dodged the low-level rock once more. “Piss off and go drown in your bathtub full of cash!”

Before Kim could attempt to refute anything coming from Watanabe, the wall of freemen had already had enough. Watanabe’s rocks were joined with a couple javelins flying towards Kim, who had the slightest bit harder of a time dodging the mid-level javelins. Though they didn’t get what “crypto” was, the freemen got the fact that they didn’t want to be ruled by otherworlders anymore; Watanabe’s protest had only given them the boldness they needed to start throwing the javelins. However, despite how angrily they threw their javelins, all of their weaponry either bounced off of Kim’s plate or Kim dodged the incoming projectiles with superhuman swiftness.

A couple volleys later, Kim and Tangerina were standing amidst a field of thrown javelins without any wounds inflicted on them. Kim, who had put his helmet back on during the rain of javelins, let out a muffled laugh. “Alright, I gave you a deal. You refused, so I have no choice now.” He turned to the magician standing next to him. “Tangerina! Let us exterminate them, Tangerina.” At least he could get kudos for having wiped out the fugitives if his first plan hadn’t worked out.

Tangerina raised her staff up, and a great cloud of water vapor began being sucked into it from the humid environment. This water trickled down from the staff to the ground, where it quickly rose up to create another wave akin to the one which had swept Watanabe. This one was much larger however; large enough to sweep everyone standing in formation. It rushed forth, this great wave, and everyone in the formation braced themselves for impact.

This bracing was for naught however, as this wave of water was dissolved with a wave of wind blowing from the opposite direction. It was Ayomide, who had revealed the shining green gem which had been resting in her hands, and cast a strong gust of wind to counter the rushing water.

“Okay, you could have made this easy.” said Kim, now drenched with water. “I’d have captured all of you and… Why am I even explaining my plans to you anymore?!” He raised his fists of steel: a pair of gauntlets with spikes adorning the top of them. Swords were a bit too lame by Kim’s standards. It seemed he had given up on conversation as well judging from the fact that he was silently rushing towards the line of freemen with his right fist raised up for a punch.

The kilos upon kilos of metal armor made Kim appear sluggish; he was anything but sluggish. In a couple seconds he had closed the distance with the line of men throwing javelins at him, and his first target was the impudent Watanabe. Ayomide’s wind didn’t serve to slow the metal man down and soon he’d make contact with his foe if nothing went wrong…

…and then John Brown raised his M1 Garand up high.

BANG!

Chapter 70: Chapter LXVII – Their battle is fought out.

Chapter Text

Today was a beautiful day like any other.

Clouds had parted way in an occasion that was rare for the summer of Northern Gemeinplatz, letting sunlight loose all over the muddy landscape of Casamonu. The birds had come out of retreat from General Autumn, chirping away while they had the rare opportunity to do so. An earthly smell permeated throughout the land only broken by the smell of iron, lipids, and a pinch of protein.

“ARGH! S-ssibal!”

A single casing flew from John Brown’s rifle. Not another moment passed before…

BANG!

…Kim disappeared from his sight, dissipating into a black cloud. The second bullet found its home in a local tree rather than its intended target.

“I’ll have to admit, that did surprise me.” Brown couldn’t help but jolt upon hearing Kim speaking from behind him. The old man, and the rest of the line of freemen, turned to face him. “Now I admit tha-”

BANG! Kim dissipated into a black cloud once more. He reappeared on a spot very close to where he had disappeared, sitting on the ground while holding his left shoulder with his right hand.

“Give me-”

BANG! Kim wasn’t there anymore.

“A second to-”

BANG! Neither was he here.

“A SECOND TO-”

BANG! Ping! Now he had gone thitherward thithermost from the line of men over yonder, and Brown’s gun was empty.

“GIVE ME A SECOND TO TALK FOR FUC-”

BOOM! This time Kim didn’t have to move as Rabanowicz’s smoothbore pistol shot went wildly off-target.

“Fine! You savages do not deserve villainous monologues!” Despite having once looked threatening due to his all-black armor, Kim now looked quite pathetic while sitting on the mud. His face made it clear that he wasn’t having a fun time, probably due to the 7.2 mm (.308 inch) wide hole occupying his left shoulder along with other factors which might currently be souring his otherwise excellent day; his left arm had gone completely limp much to his horror. “Where did you even get that from?!” All composure was gone from the once edgy and cool exterior, though thankfully he had gotten a brief moment to calm down now that the freemen were out of javelins and Brown’s rifle was out of bullets.

“I know the answer to that as much as you do.” replied Brown, sticking another magazine into his new little friend. “But I thank the Lord for having sent us such a gift in such a great time of need.”

Kim paused, so had Tangerina. They were unsure of what to do now that they were outmanned and outgunned. Retreat was an option, yes, but these people had somehow managed to get a hold of modern weaponry! Who knew what’d happen if they got more? One John Brown with a semi-automatic rifle was hard enough, who knew what’d happen once there was one John Brown plus many angry men with a semi-automatic rifle? That’d have dire consequences on the economy!

“It’s probably that damn Japanese at the back supplying them.” thought Kim out loud, his gaze fixated upon the Watanabe who had attempted to stone him for his recent cryptocurrency shenanigans. John Brown seemed too old to be an isekai protagonist with special powers. “Tangerina! We aren’t retreating; we have to wipe them out now!”

Tangerina opened her mouth as if to say “Is that a good idea in this situation?”, but she wasn’t paid to open her mouth. She only nodded before preparing another spell to end all spells: “[Big Water…] erm… what was that again… crap…” A big ball of water was summoned from the half-spoken spell, splashing down harmlessly in a cooling fashion.

Meanwhile, Brown had an idea about what he should do with the witch in front of him. He raised his rifle, only to find Tangerina quickly yelling “[BIGDAMNWATERSHIELDHOLYSH-]” the moment she noticed the weapon aimed at her.

BANG! The bullet made contact with the bubble, only to burst it and land harmlessly next to Tangerina’s. Luckily, for Tangerina anyways, a big shield made out of water that had wrapped around her like a bubble worked against early 20^th century firearms. Tangerina quickly cast another protective bubble around her, this time joined by Kim inside the bubble. With a combination of such swiftness and defense, how were the freemen supposed to break through?

If only there was a way to dry that water-bearing dastard, though Ayomide who was sick of dastards, bastards, and masters. An idea dawned upon her; an idea so simple that it should have come to her a few moments ago instead of now. “Old man, keep being ready to shoot.”

Things weren’t easy for Ayomide however, for her enemy wasn’t standing idly and waiting for turns to attack. Gemeinplatz wasn’t civilized enough yet for turn-based battles, neither was Kim civilized enough to admit defeat and run. Now his movements were a bit slower so that he could stay inside the bubble of water, but his one functioning fist still represented a threat to the integrity of everyone else’s precious internal organs and nobody dare approach him for a tackle.

The battle had turned into a semi-comedic scene, one which would have been fully comedic if not for this being a life-or-death situation, where the line of men retreated back from Kim while he tried to approach Watanabe. Kim went right, the line went right; Kim went left, the line went left; Kim couldn’t go upwards as he couldn’t fly, neither could the line follow him if he suddenly could.

Meanwhile, Ayomide was watching Tangerina. Her bubble of protective water was slowly thinning out, beads of salty water running down her forehead instead. Keeping up such magic without a proper magic staff or convenient magic gem seemed to be tiring the woman despite her great capacity for magic. Kim, the type of man to not care about the feelings of women at all unless the woman in question was their plot-convenient little sister, was continuing his policy of not caring. He was more focused on the scrawny loser who had just tried to stone him.

The protective bubble got thinner and thinner, until Tangerina had seemingly stabilized its thickness. Keeping such a barrier indefinitely would have been possible thanks to the fact that magic regenerated; as long as, hypothetically, no catgirls decided to interfere with anything, then Tangerina could keep producing enough magic to keep the barrier running.

Unfortunately, Tangerina lived in an imperfect world where catgirls could and would interfere with her business.

“[Ayomide’s Special Dry Cleaning]!” With a special attack name she had invented approximately seven and a half minutes ago, Ayomide pointed her green gem towards the curs hiding behind their bubble. Then came forth a continuous gust of wind, not strong in terms of total force, but wide in area.

Kim and Tangerina were first confused as to why Ayomide was sending such a weak gust their way, for the wind seemed to have no value as an attack. Thankfully, the didn’t need to wait much to clear their confusion; unfortunately, their confusion was soon replaced with horror. The gust of wind was swiftly evaporating the water comprising the bubble, which didn’t help with its integrity. Ayomide had been the Chief Dryer (not an official title, yet) of Libertycave and a lot of her time had been spent in fierce battle with the slipping-and-sliding antics of pesky Lady Aqua (neither is this an official title, yet; nobody was planning on creating a cult based on such a personification of water, yet).

Tangerina tried her best to draw out her last remains of ye mystical magical power, but it was for naught. Naught it was, fraught she was, haught he was, caught in a pinch they both were. Pop! the bubble went, shattered like the Kim’s dream of smacking poor Watanabe in the face…

BANG!

BANG!

BOOM!

…or so it seemed, until Kim dissolved and undissolved ever closer with every shot taken by a combined force of Brown, Tubman and Rabanowicz. Dissolving into dust and being a nuisance seemed to be his thing. He was face-to-face with Watanabe now, so close that they could hear each other breath amidst the cacophony.

“[Flash Bang]!” Unfortunately, Ayomide was to be so rude as to interrupt a moment between these two men. She had anticipated that Kim would try to pull of a Hail Mary slay by approaching their line, and her gem had been raised at face-height towards the man trying to avenge his dollar-shaped pride.

Soon Kim’s vision was filled with light, the sort of light that made him feel like the Lord Himself had booked him an express ticket to kingdom come. “Thy kingdom come” as Brown and many other would utter in prayer; Kim’s kingdom came not as he crashed down to the wet mud below. His sense of balance was gone, he couldn’t see anything other than a black void, just cold, wet, disgusting mud as far as he could feel…

Kim’s ears were too busted at the moment to hear what happened next.

[Oh dear, you are dead!]

In this chapter of the John Brown Isekai:

(Original artwork by MeatoWash)

Naught it was, fraught she was, haught he was, caught in a pinch they both were.

The above is my favorite sentence amongst the sentences I've written recently.

Chapter 71: Chapter LXVIII – The walls crumble down once more.

Chapter Text

50^th of Summer, 5859
City of Casamonu, Casamonu

Time: sometimes it passes, sometimes it doesn’t.

General relativity hadn’t been invented yet however, so the men besieging Casamonu couldn’t exactly explain why the temporal flow had been rushing so quickly. One day they had come to besiege the town, and it only felt like a moment that the walls were slowly crumbling down right in front of their eyes.

“Fire!” Two cannons roared once more, taking off what was left of the old walls of Casamonu. It didn’t have much protection due to being an inland town, nor was Casamonu built to last in the age of cannon in the first place. First the stone bricks fell down, then the earth packed inside the brick flowed down after being unshackled from its stony cage. Slowly, as the earthen core of the wall flowed free, so did the stone bricks from other sections free themselves as a chain reaction occurred to create a cascade of earth. It brought down a few poor souls down on the walls with it as well, making for quite the gruesome and chaotic mix by the end.

Sir Baha had been standing idly next to the cannons as he watched them break the walls. He intended to give orders when, in great jubilee and lack of patience, the other noblemen ordered their men to attack through the breech. Since they had already done what he’d planned to order them to do, Sir Baha sufficed by standing safely at the back and watching the battle unfold. His trusty servant Ted brought him his trusty binoculars, which gave him a clear view.

The first to enter the breech were the forlorn hope: convicted criminals seeking forgiveness or adventurers looking for extra cash. It was easy to conscript desperate enough men, whether looking for their freedom or just plain dosh, to brave the charge and put themselves vis-à-vis with certain death. They climbed up the rubble of the collapsed wall, meeting way more than twelve angry men behind the ruins of the wall.

Those who still stood atop the intact parts of the wall began throwing boulders and boiling water down to their besiegers as they tried to enter the breech. Even a simple boulder from such a height would cause a man’s skull to be cracked open like a quail’s egg meeting a road roller on a Sunday afternoon. Some heads were cracked open, some heads were boiled al dente, and a couple men managed to make it to the other side and escape being made into a gruesome meal for the earth below.

Forlorn hope was forlorn for a reason however, for their next appointment was with the polearms of the men standing on the ground. The broken part of the wall led into a narrow street, in which there were already a few sentries from the garrison of the city. These sentries set forth to delay the besiegers, while not forgetting to send some of their comrades as messengers to warn the other members of the garrison to make their way to defend the breech.

Now the backstreets of Casamonu, ever familiar with petty fights, had become a proper battleground. The forlorn hope, despite being somewhat outnumbered due to coming in as a trickle from the breech, went on the offense. Unlike the garrison men with their pikes and halberds suitable for a defense, the forlorn hope carried longswords and small round shields meant for a quick offense before the pikes could fall into formation. Even if they fell into formation, these men would just duck under the pikes and try their best to earn their pay by poking the legs of their enemies.

The garrison consisted of the men of the city, conscription during times of siege was the duty of every man living in an urban area in most of Gemeinplatz, who hadn’t gotten much chance to train in acting as a group during the brief siege. Still, they managed to instinctively band together quickly enough to erect a line of pikes wide enough to block the street. Their lack of experience was covered by the fact that their weapons made their formation into a huge porcupine that wasn’t too pleasant to try and break through.

Still, the forlorn hope had to earn their pay somehow with what few officers had managed to make it through with them watching them closely. The strategy to break these formations was simple: ram the long polearms with their shields to break the balance of its wielder, duck under the giant porcupine whose eyes were chiefly focused on other attackers, and pray that they’d manage to slip through and slice a couple people before they were skewered. Thankfully the members of the garrison were unskilled, so they had a hard time counter-skewering the men traversing below their pikes who became tangled together in a big mess as everyone tried to murder everyone else. Men screamed as their tendons were slashed, others couldn’t scream due to having their throats being blocked by foreign metal objects.

It was quite the bloody mess, a bloody mess which eventually resulted in the garrison tactically retreating when the walls around the city crumbled once more. The rest of Sir Baha’s allies began pouring into the backstreet, being met by the members of the garrison gathering reinforcements to block the street. Sir Baha himself rode in to the scene on his horse, commanding his own little retinue with a little surprise in store for the wall of men blocking them.

“Allies, stand back!” commanded Sir Baha, and the allies in question withdrew away from the wall of enemies ready to meet them.

“Men, fire!” Instead of arrows or lead balls shooting out as expected from the command, Baha’s men took out hand-sized bags which were full. The bags had very short matches attached to them, borrowed from the matchlock firearms of Sir Corvus’ men, and these bags were about to meet their intended recipients.

These bags, relatively light and easy to throw, flew towards the members of the garrison who had crowded around the street. It took a good few seconds for these bags to do their thing but, even if many men of the garrison realized their up and coming fate, nobody could escape back through the tight streets before the bags went off with a loud boom. As the experts know however, it’s not the explosion that kills you, it’s the shrapnel. These bags had also been packed with the little lead balls (a.k.a. ammunition for the firearms) also looted from Corvus’ men, and these lead balls now flew around with the fury of a thousand muskets firing in unison.

With a bang, the garrison blocking the road was no more, being replaced by a gruesome scene which needs no further description lest this novel be declared adults-only by the relevant authorities, neither would most readers be likely to enjoy the description of this scene if it was done properly. To spare you the need for eye bleach, the scene post-explosion could be explained thus: It was as if somebody had bought out the entire stock of cranberry in a supermarket and smashed it with a giant mallet, proceeding to spew the cranberry in a frantic fashion mixed in with entrails for some reason which is not clear to anyone but the hypothetical somebody. Mix that with a lot of Late Medieval armor and weaponry, and you may be able to imagine the scenery in a more advertiser-friendly manner.

With their enemies having been turned into cranberry paste, it was time to move on to the rest of Casamonu. The men exited the street, doing their best not to step on someone’s entrails.

Time: sometimes it passes, sometimes it doesn’t.

General relativity hadn’t been invented yet however, so the men besieged in Casamonu couldn’t exactly explain why the temporal flow had seemingly ground to a halt. Some blamed chronomancers, some blamed chronomancresses, but the truth was that siege warfare included lots of waiting. Waiting around to see if the walls would be breached today, waiting to see if the enemy would finally retreat, waiting to see if it was all finally over… The anxiety of it all had made time stop without any need for magic or sci-fi shenanigans.

Count Leon too had been feeling restless. A small pocket of black had appeared beneath his eyes. He would have lost his hair tearing it apart if not for the fact that he had no hair to lose. Baldness wasn’t his biggest problem however; he only had to shave what little hair he had once in a while to have a fully shiny head that looked attractive enough.

Unfortunately for Leon, fugitives and revolting lords outside his precious walls couldn’t be shaved away like his pesky hair. He really wished to forge himself a giant razor which could pluck out the rebellious blades of hair camping outside his walls. Perhaps the dwarves could forge something like that if they had not abandoned him. “Those pesky, hairy, no-good sons of cave shrooms…” The count would definitely stomp on the next dwarf that entered his sight. He’d like to stomp on all the dwarves if he could. He’d like to gather enough gunpowder to blow their mountain down to-

Knock, knock. “Sir, it’s me, Hilmi.” …knock knock! KNOCK-KNOCK!

Leon didn’t exactly want to have a talk with his servant, but there was no other choice if he was to get any updates. “You may come in.”

Hilmi bowed down to his lord… “Sir, I’ll keep it short. A small battalion of enemy pigmen slaughtered all your guards on the walls. The palace guard has surrendered.” …for one last time. “They wanted to have a servant come over to retrieve you.”

“…wait.” Leon was a bit too surprised to get angry right at that moment. “Wait, wait, wait a bloody minute, who did they surrender to?”

“The men of Sir Baha, sir.” Hilmi opened the curtain in Leon’s room, revealing a disorganized mob of men looting the grounds of the palace. “They entered so quickly that nobody here noticed them until they demanded that we open the gates of the castle.”

This was it. Leon would normally not be too worried about a civilized army comprised of fellow noblemen capturing him. It was tradition to ransom high members of society at worst if they were captured in honorable combat. Of course, his visitors were here because he had tried to capture a nobleman, which was considered a “dick move” by many.

The count’s chances were, “…not good.” as said out loud by Count Leon himself.

Chapter 72: Chapter LXIX – The crew gets going once more.

Chapter Text

51^st of Summer, 5859
Imperial Highway №04-763, Outskirts of Azdavay

All roads lead to Rome, except for the roads that were built in realities in which Rome doesn’t exist. Such was the case with the Imperial Highway, on which you couldn’t roam to Rome.

Where you could roam to was every other city in Gemeinplatz however, and traders loved to roam to grease the wheels of the economy. One such group was making their way, loaded with a dozen donkeys and a dozen men who were mostly indifferent from donkeys. They were marching single-file to allow anyone else to pass them if need be, though they hadn’t seen anyone else for a long while now.

“The roads really are deserted, aren’t they?” said the caravan master, whose title as “master” was confirmed by the fact that he had a really fancy feather attached to his silk cap.

“It’s all the fugitives, sir.” replied a caravan guard marching behind his back. “Though, I’m guessing you have heard about them already…”

“I thought that the others at the Merchant’s Guild were exaggerating to try and discourage me from making some good profit.” Of course, such a shrewd caravan master was not to be tricked by such lowly tricks, or so he had thought. “Still, if these lands aren’t visited by others, then that just means there isn’t much competition.”

“You’re right, sir.” The guard patted the sword which laid securely in his scabbard. “It’s not like a bunch of savage fugitives can harm… our… caravan?”

“Hm? Is there something wrong?” The caravan master had taken his eyes off the road while chitting and chatting. He turned around to see a most unsightly sight, one which he couldn’t believe was real. “A-Are yo-you seeing that?!”

“Y-yes, sir!” Swords were drawn as the caravan got ready to fight. Their spirits didn’t last long though. “Ten, twenty, thirty… They just keep coming!”

“They” in question were a column of men marching in formation. Normally men marching in formation wouldn’t be that much of a concern, the caravan was doing the exact same thing, but the nature of these men made the caravan master soil his fancy pants. “What are these darkskins doing?!” He had never in his life seen so many of them at once, not to mention so many of them armed and in a military formation.

Panic ran amok amongst the ranks of the caravan, though they didn’t exactly have the tools to beat a fast retreat. Donkeys weren’t quick on their own, neither they were quick when they were loaded with goods. All the caravan master could do was watch as the column of fugitives got closer, and pray that he was granted a quick death.

“Good morning to you.” Instead, the caravan master was greeted by an old man greeting him from the front of the column. He seemed to be of the gentlemanly sort, far away from someone that the caravan master expected.

“Good… Good morning?”

“What a fine day, isn’t it? Such a clear sky, thank the Lord, a perfect day to take a walk and witness Creation in all its glory.” Such peaceful words came out a bit funny when it was said by someone who had an entire army behind his back. “Anyways, to get to the point…” The old man took a good look at the caravan loaded with goods. A few of the fugitives had already taken upon themselves to inspect the goods. They returned to report their findings to the old man. “Dried meat and fish? Grain? No slaves? Good, good, then I think we’ll have a healthy business relationship. How about you sell us everything you have?”

“Huh?” The caravan master was shocked once more. “I thought you were going to rob me?”

“Rob? Oh, no, robbery is a sin.” The old man procured a small bag of money from a petite catgirl next to him. “Things are about to get rough around these parts, so we’ll be doing you a favor by bailing you out of these goods which you won’t be able to sell otherwise.”

The caravan master received the small bag, opening it and even chewing on the coins to confirm their legitimacy. He had been given money, far away from being enough to compensate for all he had lost, but enough to let him start doing business again once he got back. This didn’t make him happy of course, but was he going to object to these hundreds of armed men? At least these bandits were merciful enough to not murder him outright.

Soon the fugitives had mounted the donkeys, seized their goods and let the caravan off with enough food to make it to their intended destination of Zon’guldac. As the two parties separated, the caravan master had one question:

Who the hell were these people?

51^st of Summer, 5859
Casamonu, Castle Casamonu

Sir Baha had a big problem on his hands: he had won. Victory, sweet as it was, wasn’t the end, and it only led to bigger problems that he had to contend with.

For now, Count Baha was sitting in the office of the Count of Casamonu. He had been declared the legitimate ruler by the loose coalition of noblemen he led. Now he had to fight the biggest enemy he had ever encountered: his co-conspirators, who were sitting in the office with him.

They were all quite comfortable physically, the count had thankfully not shied away from comfortable lounging with puffy sofas and cloudlike pillows all around the room. Mentally, however, they were tense like the spine of a sixtysomething who had slept all night in a cave.

“The fugitives, they have stopped their raids.” announced a baron who Baha had convinced to join with promises of plunder which had been fulfilled after the siege. “We, and none of my fellow lords in the area, have reported any plantation being burnt down by fugitives.”

“…excuse me?” Baha was confused as to why such good news would be delivered with such a somber tone. “That is good news! Isn’t it?”

“The thing is…” replied the man next to the baron, who was the mayor of some village who had donated troops to the anti-count campaign. “The matter is, it is certainly true that the fugitives have stopped for now. The problem is that the fugitives weren’t the only one committing such activities. We caught a group of lightskins trying to set the slave barracks of a plantation on fire after having killed some of the overseers and looted the plantation of its valuables. They, before we executed them, admitted to deliberately following the methods of the fugitives in order to confuse is into thinking that their actions were done by fugitives.”

Count Baha could only groan in response. “…great.” The implications of this weren’t good: who knows how many of these raids were done by fugitives and others by plain old bandits? Thinking about it, so many plantations being harmed by such a discrete and small group of fugitives was impossible… Had law and order broken down so much that people were daring to do such brazen acts? Not to mention, the count was deposed due to not being able to protect these petty lords… and I’m the count now! He had to do something. Anything. Anything would be better than no action, but what was he to do with a treasury which had been emptied from the siege and a lack of trade?

Sir Baha had saved his head once; Count Baha had to find a way to save his head on which a little bronze crown stood. It’s not like he could negotiate with the fugitives to somehow stop all of this… could he? Baha shook his head. No, trying to negotiate with the fugitives would just be a death sentence. The other noblemen would rather see their plantations burn rather than willingly surrender their primary source of cheap labor. Baha would see his head fly the moment that the fugitives eventually returned; they would definitely return since nobody had yet to find and destroy them.

This is it, thought Baha. It’s much better to live with dishonor than die with honor. He had secretly negotiated with fugitives, rebelled against his liege to escape the consequences, hadn’t he already gone beyond the point of no return? What was to further stain his honor when his honor had already been stained pure black?

“We’ll discuss these topics by gathering a council of lords tomorrow.” replied Baha “I’ll be listening too all of your concerns there and finding a solution. It shouldn’t be too hard to deter some criminals.” He looked at his visitors. They seemed convinced enough.

“Thank you, Your Excellency.” Both of his visitors bowed down before leaving the room.

The brief taste of power that Baha had managed to taste was more than enough. Power was bitter, tasteless, only desired by those who were addicted to it. Baha would rather not perish in his futile pursuit for power.

When time marched on and tomorrow came, Baha was nowhere to be seen in Casamonu.

Chapter 73: Chapter LXX – The fight begins once more.

Chapter Text

52^nd Summer, 5859
Azdavay, County of Casamonu

Sir Doruk, the mayor of Azdavay had a simple job: keep the peace, keep communicating with the count and keep anyone from capturing the city. The first one had been easy enough after he had turned a blind eye to the populace lynching some slaves, and the third one was more than easy enough considering that Gemeinplatz was at peace.

The second one seemed to be a hard ask during these times however.

Doruk was having issues with tax records and other reports which needed to be filed and sent to the count a week or two ago (thankfully submission times were a bit flexible to account for the fact that communication wasn’t instantaneous). None of his couriers had come back, neither had any follow-up messengers he had sent to ask the count what was up. Now his desk was swamped with unsent records, taxes, messages… The high-society ladies and gentleman who had elected Doruk wanted answers, and they wanted answers now.

It was as if Azdavay had a magical barrier erected around it, isolating it from the rest of the empire. The only major road connecting them to the rest of the empire was the Imperial Highway, and one arm of it went directly to Casamonu. The other arm went directly to Zon’guldac. Neither arm had any blood flowing through it. No visitors came in to visit, which of course made anyone anxious to leave lest they encounter whatever has been eating up everyone outside Azdavay. Thankfully there were farms nearby Azdavay, otherwise Doruk would be facing starvation along with a stagnating economy.

Maybe he needed a fresh breath of air. That was it. No need for worrying about anything else as long as he could get a whiff of air and feel himself refreshed. Doruk opened his curtains and opened his windows to take a look at the city which he controlled?

“…what?”

The mayor saw a whole lot of people outside.

Most of these people had dangerously high levels of melanin.

Old Brown had come a long way. From Connecticut, to Kansas and to Virginia, and finally to this strange land called Gemeinplatz. The last one was the most alien out of all, with an unfamiliar land filled with unfamiliar people practicing an unfamiliar culture. Yet, despite their unfamiliarity, the downtrodden of Gemeinplatz demanded one thing:

“Freedom or death!”

They had gotten death for a bit too long, so the time had come for a pinch of freedom. Entering the town itself hadn’t been a hard task. In fact, it had been so easy that the narration hadn’t gotten the time to catch up.

Azdavay was a minor town without a defense against any organized army. Protecting against more than a hundred armed men was way above the pay grade of the city’s guards, so they had fired off a bolt or two before turning tail and disappearing. Such had also been true for the adventurers, who wouldn’t take one swing without one shilling paid to them.

The freemen, now soldiers, couldn’t believe their eyes. The Empire, the Leviathan which towered above them all, had retreated without much resistance. One could see much jubilee in the eyes of the freemen who were now marching on the streets and towards the center where the (soon-to-be former) mayor’s mansion stood.

In contrast to the victorious and jubilant freemen, the people of the town were locked up in their homes. Those without homes had retreated into the backstreets, and there was a general confusion going on. Who were these strange men breaking into their city? Had some sort of apocalypse befallen them? Were they all experiencing some mass hysteria?

Unfortunately, for the nerves of the town people, what they were seeing was very much true. It was morning, the sun was rising, and Brown’s men had made it to the town square. The mayor’s mansion was quickly besieged, the guards in the mansion surrendered, and it was only a matter of time before somebody got the mayor.

Warfare, as quick as lightning, had been conducted without a casualty suffered. Despite that however, Brown and Tubman looked quite nervous. They had finished the easy part, the one which is (supposed to be) violent. The hard part had been softening the local authorities until such an operation was possible, by raiding their economy and weakening their unity.

The hardest times were yet to come, though that part hadn’t been realized by most of the freemen who were drunk on victory. Soon, they’d have to begin reconstructing something out of the mess that they had caused in Azdavay.

To turn from a bunch of unknown fugitives in the mountains to some sort of legitimate government, without having the local populace overthrowing them the moment they left…

One of the freemen ran up to Brown. “Captain, we found the mayor in his office. They’re bringing him over now.”

…It’d be quite the hard task, to say the least.

Sir Doruk, the mayor of Azdavay had a simple job: keep the peace, keep communicating with the count and keep anyone from capturing the city. This story isn’t about him however, for Doruk was no longer acting as mayor after having failed at all three of his assignments. Now somebody else occupied his seat: former maid café worker turned abolitionist catgirl wizard turned Captain Ayomide. She only physically occupied his former seat however, no one person had gotten the responsibilities of the mayor just yet. Brown and Tubman were also amongst those who occupied the former mayor’s office, though they were sitting at the corner of the desk and discussing deep matters that didn’t interest Ayomide at that moment. She didn’t get why they were so worked up after having achieved victory. Hers was quite the cushiony seat, and Ayomide intended to sit there as long as she could without a worry in her head. Plus, the sweet irony of sitting where the head honcho of the town she had once been enslaved in made it all the better.

“Salutations, Her Imperial Majesty Lady-Mayor Orange!” Shinasi entered the room and saluted Ayomide. He immediately broke his salute as he broke out into laughter. Maybe it was the joy of victory, maybe it was because he had raided the mayor’s cellar and done extensive taste-testing, but the young man seemed a whole lot giddier than usual. He found a seat on the mayor’s desk, almost knocking over a huge stack of papers that sat on it.

Brown immediately withdrew the papers from Shinasi’s general area, shooting an angry glance at his chemically inconvenienced comrade-in-arms. “Young man! These are the most important items in this here room, for the love of the Almighty, please do take care not to damage them!”

“These?” Shinasi didn’t exactly find much excitement in papers, unless they were banknotes or cheques.

“Yes, these!” Brown shuffled the papers back into order and made a grand “thuck thuck!” while he straightened them on the table “These are what we need to achieve victory.”

“Excuse me, but haven’t we achieved victory already?” asked Ayomide. Occupying the mayor’s soft seat sure felt like victory to her.

“’course not! Think bigger, Miss Ayomide!” interjected Tubman. She was as restless, if even more, than old Brown. “We’re not here to grab a bunch of our brothers and sisters before making an escape like we usually do. With God by our side, we’re here to stay, and for that we need to cut off the head of the snake. What better way to start than by checking the records of the mayor?”

“The records of the mayor? What was he recording?” Having never participated in the governing process, Ayomide was left in the dark.

“The people in this town. Number of adults in households, who is working and who is not, who owns what and who owns who for the sake of taxation… or so I assume, none of us can read these.” The last part caused Tubman’s mood to turn sour. “Our plan is to learn who owns slaves in this town, and strike them down before they have a chance to organize against us. Along with many other surprises that I and Brown have in store.”

Brown nodded. “We need to act quick, however. I already ordered some men to block the gates of the town and forbid anyone from leaving, but that cannot last forever. Nobody yet knows why we are here and what we want from them, so it’s better to get the gentlemen out of the way before they realize that we’re coming for their heads. After that is a long process of getting the populace here to accept us…” The old man felt his head ache while thinking of that. “No matter, our focus now is to stabilize what we can immediately stabilize. With our Heavenly Father above, we’ll deal with other issues as their turn comes. Anyone here have any suggestions for where we can find some literate people willing to read these for us?”

“Oh, I do! I do!” Shinasi screamed like an excited schoolchild. “Some of the bigger parties in the Adventurer’s Guild have those smart literates to do their accounting and whatnot. If you pay them enough money they’d probably accept to read whatever for you.

“That… That is a good idea. I’m glad to see that your brain is still functional, young man.” Brown clapped his hands and stood up. “Prepare to have a long night, ladies and gentlemen.”

Chapter 74: Chapter LXXI – Let your light shine before men.

Chapter Text

A great many delusions have been swept away by this war. One was, that the Negro would not work; he has proved his ability to work. Another was, that the Negro would not fight; that he possessed only the most sheepish attributes of humanity; was a perfect lamb, or an “Uncle Tom;” disposed to take off his coat whenever required, fold his hands, and be whipped by anybody who wanted to whip him. But the war has proved that there is a great deal of human nature in the Negro.
- Frederick Douglass, What the Black Man Wants (1865)

53^rd Summer, 5859
Azdavay, County of Casamonu

Things were quite tense around in ye olde Adventurer’s Guild. Understandably so: they had lots of unexpected guests in the town. Unfortunately, the adventurers hadn’t had any times to prepare any meals for their guests due to the unexpected nature of their visit. Quite rude of them not to have anything ready for their guests, but I digress from the main point of the John Brown Isekai which is the Johning and Browning.

Moving on from the impromptu etiquette class, the guild itself was quite packed with people. So packed in fact that everyone was standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Most of this crowd weren’t adventurers despite the name of the building clearly suggesting it should be full of adventurers; the common folk of the town had made a run for the building with the biggest concentration of armed people in the local area. There were a few priests from distributing food while a pair of babies were crying in some far away corner of the room. Some poor old git had been relegated to a corner due to having forgotten to put on their clothes during their panicked escape, while on another corner someone was trying to quickly sell their house on the cheap before the fugitives would surely burn it down. An odor, a waft of sweat mixed with a pinch of fear and soiled underpants, permeated throughout the room. Not the most pleasant environment to be in, but it seemed a whole lot more pleasant than having to deal with the “horde of savages” outside.

One person of relatively import was Shakira, the former adventuring comrade of Shinasi, who had found herself stuck on a table. Her position was quite rough: the table was quite the long one, and everybody who needed to rest their precious legs had occupied the space around her. She had put her head on the table. The cacophony in the room was quite unignorable, so she hadn’t managed to travel into the realm of sleep despite desperately wanting to book a ticket there. There was one especially loud git in the room, possibly half-drunk or fully-drunk, who was standing on a table while preaching. His garb seemed to suggest he was some sort of preacher, with a humble robe and a white cap taking him one or two centimeters close to some sort of divine power.

“Hear ye, hear ye!” The preacher stomped his foot on the table to grab attention. His stomping noise dissolved like a droplet of water in a tsunami amongst the crowd of people. Still, he managed to get the attention of a few people including that of Shakira. “This is a sign, people! Have you not seen the moral degeneration of Gemeinplatz? Our lords are corrupt, our men lazy and our youth corrupt! With how far we have fallen from the days of the old empire, it is not a wonder that the Divine has sent these demons to punish us! The rise of the Demon King is near!”

One of the priests in a white robe shouted from nearby the preacher “I’d say that it is more likely that our punishment is for how we’ve treated the darkskins and forced them to be here in the first place!” This overtly humanistic comment caused many heads to turn around towards the man shouting such odd things. “Harmony shall only be achieved once we send all races back to where they belong: lightskins in Gemeinplatz and the darkskins back north to Ginye!” Having fulfilled his racism quota, the priest intended to go back to his job only to be interrupted by a new challenger arriving with new hot takes.

“So, you’re saying that we should send Lord-knows how many people to a foreign land just to pretend that we rid ourselves of our sins? Aren’t we all meant to be all equal under the gaze of the Divine?” This take came from someone who had no robes, but he had the glorious beard of a priest that made him eligible to take part in this discussion. “Why don’t you ship yourself out to Ginye and let the darkskins stay in Gemeinplatz instead?”

The desktop preacher raised a point that seemed poignant to him and the others in the room “First off, it’s debatable if the darkskins are even human-”

“They are human, but undeveloped. Like children.” replied the priest.

“Alright, setting aside the potential humanity of the darkskins, Gemeinplatz belongs to us lightskins! The Divine put us here, rightfully so as our race is the only one mature enough to diligently enjoy the many bounties of this land, and you expect me to leave this place to the barren deserts of Ginye?” He looked at the audience for approval, which he got loads of heads nodding upon his gaze. By now the entirety of the Adventurer’s Guild had tuned into the debate.

Amongst those who nodded in approval was the priest. “Yes, and that is why our races must be separate to prevent conflict and further oppression. We should send the darkskins back to their natural environment where they belong, lest we see more disasters akin to the one we have experienced today!” He had the crowd’s approval as well, and the only one left without any approval was the plain-clothed man who was now served the angry gaze of the crowd. He was about to defend himself, only for his voice to be drowned out by a flurry of disapproving grunts and mild insults that gradually turned more violent.

The desktop preacher called out to the man with his booming voice “You, I wonder if you’ll be able to spout that nonsense when these savages forcibly deflower our women, murder the men and burn the city to the ground! They know not of civilization, of faith and of love!”

Despite the crowd’s booing and grumbling, the plain-clothed man managed to shout out his line “Don’t we force the darkskins to serve our vices, don’t we murder those who escape and don’t we burn their cities to the ground in order to capture them? Tell me, in which way are we different from savages?”

The priest, standing somewhere in the center of the two, rebutted with the classic “Hard labor builds character for the darkskins which they naturally lack!” As the tensions in the crowd got hotter and a few angry folks began making their way towards the plain-clothed man, the priest slowly retreated towards the desktop preacher to distance himself. “We must send them back so that-” By now, discussion had broken down as a bolder member of the crowd grabbed the collar of the plain-clothed man. The savages were about to beat the poor man to death when they saw something even more concerning outside the window.

“The darkskins! They’re here!”

“Hide the children!”

“Screw the children, hide yourselves!”

Some drew their weapons, some began praying, all were in a state of panic. A platoon of soldiers had surrounded the guild building from all sides. None in the building were brave enough to charge out there.

On the contrary to those inside, somebody on the outside was brave enough to enter. It was a semi-familiar figure to many, an unremarkable young man who had been a foreigner to Azdavay. Only Shakira could remember that his name was Shinasi. He had his hands raised up, and no arms were to be found on his body other than the ones which were made of flesh. “Goodness, this place is quite crowded…” The room was so quiet that one could hear a microscopic pin drop on a pillow. All eyes were on the man once thought to be unremarkable. “So, uhm, we’ve got a quest for you?” He took out a sack full of coins, shaking it around to let the room hear how full it was. “Ten libra! Ten libra for any literate people who are willing to help the… mayor.” Having seen the crowd of people had disheartened Shinasi quite a bit. They’d probably have to do something about this, but he wasn’t the ideas man except for ideas about wine-related infiltration tactics.

“Ten?” The desktop preacher’s eyes opened up like an open wallet.

“Ten?” The priest’s eyes too opened up like an open wallet.

The other man was unable to open his eyes in reaction to this information as he had escaped from the scene with his bones intact. The two that had been left behind slowly made their way through the crowd of people to meet with Shinasi. “So, what’s with the darkskins outside?” asked the desktop preacher.

“Oh, them? Don’t worry, they’re friendly folk.” Shinasi waved towards the back, and some of the soldiers waved back at him.

Taking a look at how well-armed the men outside looked, the desktop preacher and his comrade-in-debate decided not to question further. They were probably some slave soldiers or something recruited by some lord and, considering how the town hadn’t burned down, it seemed that Azdavay was going to be spared.

“Let’s go then.” With that, Shinasi and co. were off to introduce these men of the cloth to the new sheriff in town.

Chapter 75: Chapter LXXII – Let your literacy shine before men.

Chapter Text

53^rd of Summer, 5859
Rogers’ Plantation, Outskirts of Casamonu / Azdavay

Tensions were quite high everywhere in Casamonu, for reasons not as of yet related to the hostile takeover in Azdavay. Such high tensions called for becoming higher than the tension to escape it, which meant that business was going well for Sir Rogers’ tobacco plantation. To meet this demand the already strict production quotas had been made even stricter, sleep time had been reduced from 6 hours to 4, and new slaves had been bought from nearby plantations that had gone bankrupt from the raids.

Sir Rogers himself had been saved from bankruptcy thanks to the sudden increase in the average level of stress in the region. He was having a whiff from his pipe; not from his own supply of course, he was a rich enough man that he could afford a mix of tobacco imported overseas and “poppies” imported from the North. This man of high status was reaching new highs as he burnt away his not-so-hard-earned cash in his pipe of dreams. Not that he had a shortage of money to burn; a man like him could convert all his money to banknotes, use the banknotes as toilet paper every day, and still live a comfortable life for the rest of his existence on the temporal realm. It was a life free of worry except for the times when his slave barracks happened to burn down. Other than that, Sir Rogers could kick up his heels and relax.

However, his relaxation was cut short by a worrying matter, that being that the plant matter in his pipe had all burnt up. No matter however, for Sir Rogers could call up some more. He rung a bell on his desk to call one of his servants. Then he rang it again. And again. One more time for good measure. Was he just so high that time seemed to be moving so slowly? A couple minutes had already passed by now and nobody had knocked on his door to help. Quite the odd thing for a man who had a couple servants serving him.

“Hello? Anyone?” Sir Rogers still had enough of his mind working to sense something was wrong. He struggled to get up his chair and wobbled to the nearby window, where he found the plantation to be devoid of any workers. It was morning, the prime time for work. He’d have to punish whoever had let the slaves laze around. Then he turned back, almost collapsed onto the floor as even this simple action of turning around was enough to overload his clouded mind, and waddled towards a door leading to a corridor. Waddle and waddle he did, for a very long time, until his jittery hands finally made contact with the doorknob. It clicked open, the door swung open, and Sir Rogers finally lost his balance and found himself on the floor when he tried to hold on to the accelerating door. The noise made by his body crashing on to the floor was great, so great that it prompted some footsteps to begin approaching him. He was ready to chew out whoever would come into his sights first, though that whoever turned out to be very unexpected.

“Is that him?” It was a bloke clad in a gambeson, carrying a spear, leading a group of half-naked slaves carrying agricultural tools.

“Hey! Where have you been all this time?” shouted Sir Rogers. He shook his fist around, furious and unserved. “Get me something to smoke, damn you!” His attempts at getting off the ground failed due to his lack of balance.

The slaves didn’t seem to be too willing to oblige however, and they slowly approached their master instead. The guy in the gambeson opened his mouth to stop them, before taking a pause and changing his mind. “Eh, he’s going to be executed anyways. Do what you want with him."

53^rd of Summer, 5859
Azdavay, County of Casamonu

The former mayor’s office in Azdavay had turned into a jungle of paper-shifting quill-dancing bureaucracy overnight. A couple more of the well-read members of Azdavay had joined the mayor’s office after the two men of the cloth upon hearing (thanks to Brown letting the preacher go back to the Adventurer’s Guild to recruit more) the excellent pay offered by their new visitors, not to mention that getting on the good sides of their new “overlords” seemed to be a good deal for them. Brown had his own place at the table, with a large sheet of paper where he transcribed the mayor’s records into Latin script.

“Lady Lily of Azdavay, two slaves. Lives in the 14^th Street.” shouted Vaiz, the only one in Brown’s party who knew how to read and write thanks to having been educated as a clergyman.

“Sir Ford of Azdavay, one slave in his household. House is on Flower Street.” declared the desktop preacher whom had taken quite a liking to the money now sitting comfortably in his pockets.

“Sir Rogers of Azdavay, seventeen slaves and three overseers employed in his plantation. Plantation is situated on the road to Casamonu.” cried out one of the receptionists at the Adventurer’s Guild.

“We just got Sir Rogers; you can cross him out.” replied Ayomide from outside the room. She was out of breath due to having been running to-and-fro all day. “I haven’t heard from anyone else in a while. I think we’ve almost gotten everyone who’s in the records, well, anyone who has not escaped.”

“Not that there should be too many high-society people, especially in a small town.” To Brown, Azdavay felt like a small American village rather than something that deserved to be called a town. He wrote another line on the translated record before continuing “We aren’t working on those records just to find the blue-blooded enslaver of men. Getting rid of them was just the first step of the plan.”

“The first step? How many steps are there?” asked Ayomide standing under the doorframe.

“As many as we need, young lady. Only our Heavenly Father can predict the future.”

You could have just said ‘I don’t know’, thought Ayomide. No matter, she liked the part where she got to apprehend the high and noble men of the realm. Old John Brown was all about “not taking revenge” and “only fighting for what was right”, but Ayomide wasn’t. So were her comrades-in-arms.

Brown continued working on transcribing the records, his eyes focused only on the numbers upon numbers. He wasn’t an accountant, far from it, but he wanted to have a general idea on how society in Gemeinplatz worked in the first place. A 19^th century man like him only had a vague outline of pre-modern society through Shakespearean plays, semi-truthful biographies of the great men of the past and the fantastical accounts of the Bible. Perhaps it’d even be correct to say that his level of (or lack of) knowledge wasn’t too far off from a 21^st century person who only knows of the Medieval Ages through pop culture.

As for the numbers themselves, they were surprising. Brown had left the world before industrialization and mechanization got crazy, the old man hadn’t lived to see commercially produced electric light bulbs, but even by the mid-19^th century agricultural production had increased considerably and Brown himself was quite involved with agriculture considering he had lived on the frontier. Traction engines, threshing machines, artificial fertilizer… All the people of Gemeinplatz had were oxen, scythes and manure.

Most of the grain was consumed by the peasants themselves while the excess was taxed away (yields for cash crops was similarly low, though those yields had recently gotten exceptionally lower due to old John Brown). This low yield meant that there was little surplus for urban centers, which meant that the urban population in Gemeinplatz was quite low compared to what Brown was used to. In the case of Azdavay, it had more than ten thousand peasants on record (not all of them recorded individually, only as households to be taxed) for an urban population that barely surpassed a thousand.

This was a big, and unsurmountable problem for John Brown.

There was no way for him to get an agricultural revolution going without an industrial revolution, and getting an industrial revolution going was a bit tricky to say the least. It was certainly not Brown’s expertise. Unless the Lord was to come down and reveal to him the secrets to constructing a usable steel engine with Medieval metallurgy, which wasn’t a thing that God was known to do, then Brown had no luck getting that going (not to mention the fact that an industrial revolution takes more than just making steam engines). Lacking the common isekai protagonist powers of pulling inventions out of his breeches, Brown only had one option: try to reorganize the already existing agriculture as best as he could, make sure that the peasants were getting their fair share instead of being lorded over like slaves along with making sure that there were no slaves in the process.

The old man’s head was already beginning to hurt thinking about all this; old John Brown hadn’t actually gotten to the part where he had to administer territory. He was a rebel, an abolitionist, not a politician. He made up his mind to delegate all this business to someone he could trust as soon as possible.

For now, however, there was business that was way more immediate. Brown turned to Ayomide, who was still catching her breath under the doorframe. “Have we captured everybody we needed?”

“Mmh?” Ayomide jolted up from her half-asleep state. “Oh, the big men? We couldn’t find some of them, they probably made a run for it, but we got most of them and freed their slaves. A bunch of the slaves agreed to come to Azdavay with us, but some of them wanted to stay in the plantations.”

Brown was surprised by the brief report. “Stay?”

“Yeah, one of them told me that they want to keep working there. Something about ‘this is all we’ve known in our lives; we’ll keep this place ourselves and sell the crops’.” Ayomide shrugged, making a few grumbles of disapproval. “Actually, now that the owners are going to be dead, who’ll own the land?”

This simple question from Ayomide caused the entire room to pause and go silent. While the question seemed innocent enough at the surface, it was one which questioned Gemeinplatz society at its core. People loved to listen in when Brown ranted about the lords, but there was also the question of who would replace these lords. Lords didn’t exist just for the sake of it: they were the owners and managers of the lands that the peasants and slaves worked on. If not them, who?

Brown and Tubman knew the answer, though both sufficed by looking at each other and nodding. They already had collected the data needed to redistribute all this land. “Young lady, be patient. First, we have to rid ourselves of these lords permanently.”