How to Survive in the Roanoke Colony-Chapter 258: Government Ruled (1)

Florida has virtually no government.

No, it would be more accurate to say that there’s hardly any formal governance structure or administrative apparatus at all. The vacuum of power is palpable across the war-torn region. At most, there exists a largely symbolic assembly that calls itself a government—a pale shadow of legitimate authority—alongside the clandestine underground organization carefully cultivated and embedded by the enigmatic Nemo over many years.

If one were compelled to identify a single entity that could legitimately claim to represent the collective interests and will of all Florida’s remaining inhabitants, it would undoubtedly be the hastily assembled council. This unlikely coalition brings together the charismatic leaders of the slave uprising, pragmatic Spanish collaborators who had switched allegiances when the tide turned, and the battle-hardened operatives from Nemo’s underground network who had emerged from the shadows.

And after a surprisingly brief but intensely focused meeting—lasting barely long enough for the sun to move perceptibly across the sky—they reached their momentous decision with remarkable clarity and unity of purpose.

Alonso Garcia, who became the representative of this meeting according to rotation, said:

"Everyone gathered here, including myself, seems to agree."

At these solemn words, all those present—faces etched with the hardships of recent years but eyes now bright with conviction—nodded in silent affirmation and deliberately raised their hands in the ancient gesture of consensus.

It was unanimous.

Thus, they decided to join Virginia.

In truth, this decision wasn’t made during the 37-minute meeting that had just taken place.

The decision had been made at the final moment of the recent battle.

When ’His’ body was burned and then resurrected from soil and ashes.

At that moment, everyone present knelt before ’Him,’ so the vote had essentially already taken place.

Again, unanimously.

Thus, Florida’s fate was decided, and time passed quickly.

Florida is a colony established purely for strategic purposes: "Caribbean defense" and "keeping Virginia in check." Economic profit was only a secondary consideration.

The half-abandoned Spanish slave owners made money by growing various cash crops like fruits or cotton using slave labor supported by the Viceroyalty. Or by raising cattle and horses.

The role of Spanish merchants was to exchange these cash crops and livestock for money and various necessities.

And after the rebellion, Spanish merchants stopped coming.

The liberated African slaves were left all alone here.

For now, they could only maintain the fields their masters had operated, barely cultivating their own small gardens or obtaining food through exchanges with the natives.

And then war broke out on top of that.

It’s an environment that couldn’t help but be impoverished.

Although the fighting here had mostly concluded, the people of Florida were still hungry. They needed someone’s help.

Moreover, didn’t they express hope for integration into the community?

Thus, Manteo came to Florida according to the decision of the Council of Six.

Until just now, there had been no problems.

The voyage was safe and peaceful, the supplies brought were safely delivered, and all the sailors and companions were reliable.

Even after arriving at San Agustin, there were no particular issues. Whether soldiers or government leaders, everyone welcomed him, and naturally, the civilians who came for aid even regarded him as a savior.

And then.

"..."

"..."

"..."

Manteo now sensed with his keen perception that he was screwed.

"Ah... hahaha, why are you asking about the Indians in this area?"

"No reason. Do you know about the Apalachee tribe?"

"Of course I do, but..."

"That’s fine then."

"..."

"..."

"..."

Somehow during the conversation, the topic of the local Americans in Florida came up. It seemed they were about to mention what role they played in this ’revolution.’

At that moment, the atmosphere briefly became awkward.

Manteo quickly scanned the American clerks who had come with him. Beneath their skilled expressionlessness, he sensed some emotion.

And that emotion was injecting a faint anxiety throughout this space.

When else had he felt this kind of anxiety?

Ah.

Right.

He had felt this many times before.

Because...

"Manteo, my friend. I don’t know much about native affairs... could I ask you to handle this?"

"Mr. Manteo? If you don’t mind, could you tell us how to resolve conflicts between tribes?"

"Manteo, I need a favor. There seems to be some misunderstanding due to language differences between those tribes."

Everyone dumped these similar tasks on him.

As the only American among the six apostles.

...Somehow, recalling these memories left a bitter taste in his mouth, though he couldn’t explain why.

If he had experienced the future racial discrimination of being greeted with "Konichiwa" because he was Asian, and then being forced to multitask both Vietnamese and Arabic market analysis in the Asian department... the story might have been different.

But unfortunately, he lacked such future knowledge. Manteo felt bad without knowing why he felt bad.

Anyway, his sense developed from such multitasking was ringing.

He remembered when immigrants flooded in from the south and tribal conflicts were severe, when Nemo rushed into a burning hut to save the Great Chief of the Tutelo tribe.

After Nemo gave an excellent speech, he was the one stuck with the cleanup and mediating tribal conflicts... anyway.

That awkward atmosphere he often felt then.

This is...

A precursor to conflict.

Hmm.

As expected.

This is...

"Nemo, what do you think?"

Judging this wasn’t something he could resolve on his own, Manteo immediately went to Nemo to report.

"It seems there’s significant resentment among the various tribal people who joined our community toward the American tribes in this area.

Many of them joined our community far north because they were driven out by those who allied with Spain, right?

From what I see, it seems Florida will soon join our community, so what should we do?"

It was a reasonably succinct explanation of the situation. As Manteo was feeling proud of his logical explanation, Nemo’s expression became slightly ambiguous. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

Manteo sensed an ominous feeling again.

And... Nemo, as he usually did when pondering, stroked his chin with his right hand...

"We need to approach this problem slowly and carefully."

As expected.

Out came Nemo’s usual phrase for situations where "I don’t want to decide right now, it doesn’t seem urgent, but I can’t say nothing."

New novel chapt𝒆rs are published on free(w)ebnovel(.)com