How to Survive in the Roanoke Colony-Chapter 66: Growing Pains (2)

"When show respect. Told to wear."

As Massasoit dons the crown and holds the scepter to the ground, it becomes even clearer that he is the ruler of this area. François unconsciously bows his head in surprise and whispers to Samuel:

"...European Regalia!"

"Re...ga... what's that?"

"Ah, nothing, Massasoit. Nothing at all."

"...Gift, it is."

Massasoit says to the French in still awkward English, but with a much more dignified appearance than before.

The French, who were full of wariness toward the savages just moments ago, relax their posture, and reverence enters their voices.

"Gi...ft?"

"Yes."

"From whom exactly?"

"..."

"..."

"...Raleigh."

Raleigh! Walter Raleigh! Baron of Roanoke!

The confidant of Queen Elizabeth, the saint of London, the lord of Virginia!

François, who trembled at that name, almost fainted at Massasoit's following words.

"Gift... from Raleigh's chief."

"..."

"Our Emp...eror. Great... Chief."

"..."

"..."

They briefly glanced at the crown.

The material didn't seem to be of English origin. It looked like silver or platinum, but the texture and color were subtly different.

Then there's only one answer.

"Do... you know where the Great Chief lives..."

"By sea, far, so...uth. Beyond that... don't know."

"..."

"Captain, that, that looks like aluminum I've only heard about in rumors!"

New World aluminum.

Samuel exclaims in astonishment.

"My God, the Emperor of the New World actually exists...!"

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Slap.

François lightly hits the back of Samuel's head and says:

"Talk sense, Samuel. Anyone can see it's about Queen Elizabeth."

"Is... that so?"

"Yes, it is."

"Eliza...what?"

"Nothing, Massasoit. Besides the man called Baron of Roanoke... I mean, Walter Raleigh, was there no one else who seemed higher than him?"

"..."

Massasoit shook his head. Then François slowly turned to his nephew and said:

"See. Even that chief called Massasoit says he hasn't met anyone other than Walter Raleigh."

"But... the aluminum..."

"Doesn't that English queen nowadays go around jangling with aluminum ornaments? Besides, would a native emperor have any reason to give European regalia to his subjects?"

"That's, true."

"It's not just 'true', I'm right. If you believe a savage emperor actually exists, would you also believe the stories about the saint of London and the angel?"

François Gravé Du Pont is a Catholic.

That is, he honestly doesn't believe the story about an angel suddenly appearing in a Protestant country. No, in fact, except for the English, everyone, whether Protestant or Catholic, doesn't really believe it.

"So, do you believe that an empire of savages, which no explorer from France, Spain, or England had discovered until now, suddenly appeared, poof, just as England established a new colony?"

"...It doesn't seem so."

Samuel, intimidated by his superior's words, nods with his head down, and François nods in response.

François's words were the 'orthodox view' in the European world.

A noble Christian savage emperor of the New World? Only superstitious sailors or the English would believe such a story.

Countless explorers have traversed North America. And what they discovered there were, at best, some sturdy huts and naked savage chiefs adorned with feathers.

But suddenly, as soon as England establishes a colony, a hidden empire reveals itself?

Moreover, they possessed superior technology to Europe? They shared resources never seen before with the English without any price?

The English from the 'peace-loving island nation' didn't plunder, kill, enslave, or exile them, but operated the colony in harmony?

'Coincidentally', uneducated women who met an angel there brought a cure for the plague?

Above all.

'...Believe England?'

The country that abandoned its faith because the king wanted to remarry a pretty woman? The most untrustworthy country in the world?

Nonsense. Only fools would believe England.

Even though France and England were allies under the anti-Spanish banner, François couldn't trust them.

Isn't that the neighborhood that fills the royal budget with piracy?

Moreover, there were plenty of reasons for England to spout such nonsense.

It's good propaganda to say they've established a kind colony in contrast to the Spanish exploiting poor natives.

It's good for domestic consumption to claim they've allied with a New World Christian monarch, whose existence may or may not be real.

It's convenient to say, "These aren't blood-stained jewels like Spain's. Our kind native emperor gave them as gifts. sob" when luxury items pop up.

"Does that so-called 'native emperor'... have some jar that infinitely produces precious metals and all sorts of resources? To give away so much to the English?"

"Didn't they say they trade? Who knows, maybe it was genuinely peaceful?"

"Yeah, yeah. With bullets."

"Ahem."

At the two men's rapid-fire French, Massasoit, unable to understand anything, frowns.

"Ah, sorry, Massasoit. We had no intention of disrespecting you."

Worried that the atmosphere might worsen, François handed him other curious objects like a compass and flint before leaving.

He had decided.

He came here on royal orders to do preliminary work before establishing a small contact point for luxury item trade.

Originally, King Henry IV of France would have forbidden going too far south out of concern for friction with England.

But... now there are too many fruits in the south to give up.

'Even if disguised as coincidence, approach the English colony and uncover the identity of that 'native emperor.''

And then find other sources of precious aluminum and fur to establish trade with natives.

That was his purpose.

François, true to European common sense, never for a moment doubted that England's propaganda was false. The 'native emperor' is just a novel written by England's harlot Elizabeth and her male prostitute Walter Raleigh.

Who would believe that?

==

"Ahem, hmm, hmm..."

"What's the matter, Baron of Roanoke, Your Excellency?"

"Nothing at all. My ear just itches for some reason. The Emperor of the natives told me that when your ear itches, someone is speaking ill of you."

"Hahaha, what an amusing imagination. Her Majesty the Queen is waiting."

Thus, Raleigh, dressed up and doused in perfume, felt something strange as he entered the Queen's bedchamber.

"Walt! Come here. Let's talk a bit more about that amazing ship."

"My Queen..."

It was a time when the queen and her favorite of the most untrustworthy country in the world were enjoying themselves after a long while.