Chief Malik of the Botswana tribe was facing the chiefs of allied tribes.
Before the aggressive invasions of Nador, they had often exchanged goods, gone to markets together, and traded with Nador’s merchants.
Because they frequently collaborated, they would greet each other like friends in such gatherings.
‘Everyone seems to be stressed due to the Nador folks.’
Looking around, I noticed that several chiefs from tribes they had previously been close with were missing.
They must have been raided and enslaved by the Nador people.
After a lengthy silence, one chief asked in an irritated tone.
“Why have you called us here? Surely you aren’t just calling us to suggest that we join hands and fight against those wicked Nador people.”
Everyone here would agree that the allied tribes must unite to drive out the Nador folks.
Thus, last time, twelve tribes, including the Botswana tribe, banded together to confront Nador's 7,000-strong army.
Numerically, the allied tribes had the advantage, but faced with the durability of matchlocks and iron armor, they suffered a miserable defeat.
Malik and everyone present had not forgotten that fact.
‘There’s no chance of winning against those monstrous beings in a direct confrontation.’
“Frankly speaking, fighting those demons head-on is futile. So, please refrain from making foolish statements about needing to unite and fight again.”
At his words, the atmosphere in the room became even more somber.
Everyone had agreed to form the alliance and fight, so no one could point fingers at anyone else.
However, a defeat is a defeat, and the hundreds of warriors slaughtered in the barrage of matchlocks would never return.
Among them, only Malik stood tall, exuding confidence.
“Before I bring up what I want to discuss, let me show you this first.”
Malik opened a wooden box that he had brought in.
The chiefs gasped in shock at what they saw.
“Isn’t that the gun used by the demons?” “Where did you get this? The Nador merchants said they wouldn’t sell anything like this.” “Even for gold, they said they wouldn’t sell it...”
No matter how obsessed the Nador merchants were with making money, they all believed in the Mahabad religion.
While they might trade with heathens, they had never sold their key strategic weapon, matchlocks, to the indigenous tribes of western Ifriqiya, who were their adversaries and considered heretics.
Malik proudly held the matchlock in his hands.
“The chief of the Granada Kingdom, a very large tribe, has offered to sell us these. He said he would sell as many as we want.”
Everyone was in disbelief.
While they were incredibly grateful for being offered such a precious and powerful weapon, they couldn’t help but wonder why they would sell matchlocks to them.
The chiefs, who believed that there must always be a reason for something given for free, felt even more wary.
“This is ridiculous. Why would they offer to sell us such a powerful weapon?” “I heard that the Granada Kingdom had fierce wars with those wicked people until just decades ago.”
Honestly, Malik didn’t have a clear understanding of who the Granada Kingdom was.
But since they shared a common enemy, he felt he could trust them.
‘They would need to eliminate those guys to sleep soundly themselves.’
“So they seem to want to prevent the Nador people from growing stronger while also hoping that we continue to fight them.”
It left everyone feeling uneasy, as if they were being used.
Even if they felt they were being exploited, they had no choice but to accept the offer.
To survive and maintain their ordinary lives with their families, they needed matchlocks and gunpowder.
“Furthermore, thinking of receiving money for spilling blood on our behalf is truly despicable.”
It felt utterly inhumane that those coming to fight on their behalf would demand payment for it.
“They are selling matchlocks and gunpowder abundantly. We can purchase as much as we need.”
Malik glanced around at everyone.
“Honestly, what makes the Nador folks strong? Isn’t it those damn matchlocks? Other than that, they’re weaker compared to us.”
The Nador soldiers, after all, were mostly Black slaves, commoners, the poor, and serfs.
Those who had never held a spear in their lives could hardly be of high quality as soldiers.
In contrast, the people of the Botswana tribe were accustomed to hunting beasts like lions, zebras, and buffalo.
Naturally, their quality as soldiers, specialized in slaughtering beasts, was significantly higher.
“So, let’s form the alliance again and fight those wicked people. And if we win... how about continuing this alliance?”
The indigenous tribes were not lacking in knowledge; their heads were not empty.
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When an army is formed, it’s natural for a leader to be appointed to command it, and he would effectively act as the chief of the chiefs.
Among those present, Malik, chief of the Botswana tribe, was the most likely candidate.
While he disliked the idea of someone standing above his head as a chief of a tribe, he also knew that coveting the chief’s position could lead to losing his life and the lives of his tribesmen.
Everyone unanimously agreed with his words.
“I agree.” “The one selling the matchlocks is among our Botswana tribe. He’s accepting valuable items like gold, lion skins, and ivory, so make sure to bring as much as you can.”
Malik said this with a sly smile.
The more matchlocks they bought, the more profit it would bring him...
‘If this alliance succeeds, I could become a king.’
It might take five or ten years, but being the chief of chiefs would be a delightful prospect.
Krist and Chloe, along with myself, honestly found it difficult to be in this underdeveloped region.
The food was unfamiliar, and since they didn’t farm, we had to chew on the local tribe’s food or meat instead of bread.
However, the sailors seemed to have fewer complaints, as most of them could eat ‘meat’ every day.
Or perhaps, as our stay lengthened, the bonuses were increasing, which might have contributed to their satisfaction.
“Anyway, thanks for holding up well, everyone.”
By the way, it’s been over the promised week, and it’s about to reach ten days—why hasn’t the Botswana chief come?
Could something have happened?
If problems arise, I would have to find another tribe and head south along the coast.
No, given the food situation, I should return to Toscana via the Granada Kingdom.
As I pondered the preparations for the future, the Botswana chief approached me, bringing along several other chiefs.
“Sorry for being late. But these guys have all decided to buy thousands of matchlocks, so please understand.”
Matchlocks surprisingly have good liquidity.
This is because they are difficult to make; in this era, matchlocks aren’t produced in standardized factories, leading to frequent ‘breakdowns.’
To exaggerate slightly, the Albanian continent is in a state of constant war, where demand exceeds supply.
So, if they didn’t sell here, I had planned to wait a while and then supply them to another division.
‘Could it be that all of them are selling out?’
“How many do you all intend to buy?” “Altogether, 3,000. They say if they test the effectiveness later and find it good, they will buy more.”
3,000 matchlocks, which translates to about 60 kilograms of gold.
Though 60 kilograms of gold may seem small, converting it to gold coins would exceed 15,000.
The cost of 3,000 matchlocks, bullets, and gunpowder is around 5,000 gold coins, so this time, I would gain 10,000 gold coins.
‘If I sell the lion skins or ivory received as part of the payment to the nobles, the profit margin will skyrocket, right?’
Considering that this is the early stage of trade and the market is small...
If I happen to discover a new continent here, wouldn’t I be able to easily dominate the merchants?
“I will sell them all. And as promised, I will return 1.2 kilograms of gold.” “That’s unnecessary. Thanks to you, it seems I can become a king.”
“Are you planning to go to war?”
Chief Botswana smiled at me.
“If I succeed in driving away the Nador folks, I’ll need to draw more people under my wing. If they refuse to join me...”
What we often misunderstand about the Black trade is that Europeans allegedly exploited Black people unilaterally.
However, if we delve into the truth, it was widely accepted that, in the early days of the Age of Exploration, trade involved Black chieftains wielding matchlocks to conquer other tribes and sell slaves...
Could it turn out that way here as well?
“I wish you the best; that way, I can also expand my business.”
After concluding the deal, I immediately headed back home.
On the way back, I thought of a surname to symbolize the path I must take and my determination for the future.
Well, in fact, it was derived from a certain family’s surname...
But it aligns with the direction I must aim for now.
“Baron Medici would be nice, but Baron Rothschild also sounds good.”