NOVPUBAlonso García had been critically ill for several weeks.
It was close to a miracle that his half-dying body barely survived, and despite people washing and feeding him in various ways during that time, it was inevitable that he would become emaciated.
It took several days for Alonso to stagger but maintain his balance, and weeks for his sunken cheeks to return to normal.
It was quite a rapid recovery for someone who had stepped back from the threshold of death. Considering this also a miracle and blessing, he heard the news from those who had nursed him.
As was visible, San Agustin had fallen.
The troops maintaining the colony had either surrendered, died, or fled to the sea.
And with the news of San Agustin’s fall, other strongholds in Florida collapsed in succession, and eventually Spain’s hegemony within Florida crumbled.
Thus, the rebellion ignited by Alonso... had won.
"..."
Alonso remained stunned for a while after hearing that news.
Anyone would react the same way if they woke up from near death to hear that the whole world had been turned upside down because of them.
Alonso had been holed up in the former governor’s residence for rehabilitation, but looking out the window, he could see at least dozens to hundreds of people who had come to see him.
Look, it’s that priest! It’s Father Alonso! He’s alive! Such shouts were constantly heard.
...It felt strange.
He hadn’t done anything, yet he had somehow become a symbol of conscience and the focal point of revolution.
Just for helping slaves escape and being a bit kind to them, he was treated like a saint. Stories about him spread widely after being colored and exaggerated.
A priest from a remote backwater who was ignorant of the world suddenly became an important person—it was impossible not to lose his sense of reality. It still felt like a dream.
Anyway, a new leadership naturally stepped in to San Agustin after the Spanish army retreated.
The slaves from southern Florida who initially triggered everything, the slaves from northern Florida including San Agustin who joined them after hearing about Alonso, several clergy and soldiers who reportedly opened the doors and disrupted the inside during the battle for San Agustin.
An assembly of their representatives maintained order in San Agustin. They were the new government of this land. The newly awakened Alonso had also slipped into their ranks.
And their conclusion was clear.
"Spanish suppression forces will sweep in within a few years at the latest."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"England is our only potential ally to ask for help. But I’ve heard England is currently at war with Catholic coalition forces and Spanish troops in Ireland, so it’s difficult to receive help..."
A former colonial official who knew something about how the world across the ocean works spoke.
People looked around with sighs, hoping someone would show insight.
There was no answer from anyone.
Weapons were limited to those used by the former occupying forces and slave owners. Naturally, they were far from enough to arm all the slaves. Gunpowder and iron implements were also lacking.
The colony, which had grown abnormally fast over the past decade, was far from self-sufficient. Now that connections with the home country were cut off, everything would be in short supply.
Armaments, army, organization.
Everything.
It was fortunate that they had at least settled relationships with various Indian tribes without major conflicts.
If conflicts had arisen with them, they would have wasted resources bickering with the Indians and then faced the Spanish army.
Anyway, the fate facing these newly liberated people... wasn’t particularly hopeful.
In fact, it was harsh. They had to worry about survival just a few years ahead.
The meeting disbanded without much achievement.
Alonso returned to his room with a cane and others’ help. Lacking energy, he was about to lie down on the bed without even changing his clothes when...
"Look this way."
"..."
He almost screamed.
As Alonso staggered and sat on the bed, someone in his room was watching him from a corner.
"A message from the ’Bishop.’"
Bishop.
Surely this wasn’t referring to the Catholic bishop of San Agustin who had fled with the Spanish troops.
It was the ’Bishop’ of the underground organization.
The organization that had been helping slaves escape with him all this time, and whose members had made numerous contributions during this war, helping the uprising spread throughout Florida.
...An organization likely to have connections to England.
Several of its members were positioned in the new leadership, but the Bishop himself didn’t participate, which made Alonso curious—and now he had come to visit.
"...What did the Bishop say to me?"
Alonso asked.
"It’s a message for not just you, but other leadership members as well."
The messenger answered in a dry voice.
"Virginia will help you."
Virginia.
Yes. They had been helping slaves escape to that place all this time. But Alonso couldn’t really know what kind of place it was.
Some said it was a land where a great empire flourished, others said cities of gold were lined up, while others said it was just a barbaric realm where Indian villages were scattered.
There was evidence for all these claims, making it impossible to discern the truth. He had only sent slaves there thinking that a land ruled by a benevolent Indian monarch would be better than this land filled with evil.
But... that place is helping? Us?
As an independent power, not as an appendage of England?
"...Why?"
Alonso had to ask. In fact, it was something he had been curious about for a long time.
What kind of place is Virginia, and what kind of person is its ’Emperor,’ to struggle so hard to save slaves from a distant foreign land?
And the messenger’s expression changes at Alonso’s question.
With a face tinged with a smile, he speaks as if it’s entirely obvious.
"Because He said it was the right thing to do."
And he opened the door and left the room. Through the open door, Alonso saw that no one in the corridor asked who he was or stopped him.
Everyone in the corridor seemed to be a member of the organization.
==
"The head of the Florida organization has conveyed that, as you advised, they will not participate in forming the government. They said they reluctantly allowed some deacons and priests to participate individually..."
"That’s sufficient."
I stretched as I listened to the report from Florida. I was tired from having many concerns lately.
Whatever happens, Florida is a newborn country. If our secret society infiltrated and formed the government there, it would be no different from controlling puppets.
Our secret society is an organization focused on intelligence and slave escapes, like the underground railroad of the distant future. It’s enough to help them from behind.
As I cracked my neck joint making a popping sound, Raleigh, who had just entered the meeting hall with other apostles, came and asked:
"Did you... sleep here?"
"Yes."
