"Welkom by vandag se vergadering"

A meeting room filled with white men greeted my tired eyes. I rubbed them, blinking and closing. What a strange dream; I'll play along with it for now.

As the image sharpened, I noticed that some had tanned skin. As my eyes crawled over every individual in the room, I quickly noticed that the room was filled with whites, making me feel left out. I raised my hands and studied them. My skin was as white as every other man in the room. My head jerked to the side, looking around the room to explore my surroundings.

In the corner of the room, I could see guns being piled to the corner of the room. I bit my lip and turned back to face the room.

"Dankie dat jy vir vandag se volksraad in Pietermaritzburg gekom het"

"Uhh... English?" I spoke up and immediately felt daggers pointed my way. The room quickly fell silent, and everyone sent judging looks at me.

"Wat maak 'n Engelsman hier?" A man spoke up, and everyone laughed in the room.

"This is…," A person began flipping through papers, finally speaking English for once. "Jan Boddewijk?"

I waited. Seeing no takers taking up that name, I nodded my head. "Ja?" I replied, thinking that the language they spoke was reminiscent of German.

"Engllish educated?" The secretary, I presume, asked me with a heavy accent. Not knowing what Engllish is, I fervently nodded.

"kan iemand langs my sitplek met hom verander?" The secretary barked, and a man beside him got out of his seat. He looked at me and gestured towards his seat. Pointing at myself, he nodded. I got out of my seat and went to the secretary's side.

"Danke." I brusquely thanked him.

The Chairman, I presume, or speaker from before continued droning on in an incomprehensible language as the secretary translated to me.

"Thank you for coming to our Republic's first meeting. I appreciate that you all took the time to come here," The speaker gestured to a flag on the wall. And once I took a look at the flag, I immediately gulped.

"Oh… we are so fucked!" I instantly thought as I looked at the poor imitation of the Netherlands flag. But to confirm what I thought, I decided to ask a probing question.

"Are we in the Netherlands?" I turned to the secretary, and he furrowed his eyebrows. Yup, he definitely thought I was an idiot.

"The Natalia Republic, sir?"

"I was pointing out how the flags are so similar. The colour is the same. Instead of rectangles, triangles are used."

"I suppose you're right, sir," The man briefly smiled.

"I suppose this is rather late, but I should introduce myself. Jan… Bodewojek? Sorry, my Dutch is still rather weak," I stretched out an arm.

"Joren Hoenderman," He confidently replied, catching my hand and shaking it.

"So, your father sent you in his place? You're rather young to be here."

"I suppose so, Joren. I hope you will treat your Juniors well."

Very quickly, the meeting turned no different from a rowdy bar as the men discussed matters like taxation and various other affairs. Knowing my place, I kept silent on most affairs, nodding in silent acknowledgement.

"Haal die tee!" A man bellowed out, and the rest cheered with him. The door to the room opened, and I turned to face a modestly dressed, dark-skinned woman holding a tray of teacups. I thought little of it until they set a cup before me. I captured a glimpse of their pointy ears as they moved on to Joren's table.

What the fuck? Is that an elf? I thought to myself silently as I studied the woman's features. She was in a modest dress with an apron on top of it, with a bonnet, reminiscent of the American Wild West. I glanced at the men around the room, which reminded me of cowboys in a Western film. But if it's a Western film, why are there elves?

I tapped on secretary Joren's shoulder, and he sipped on his tea, savouring the flavour.

"She's a slave?" He looked at me like I was a fool again.

"Jan? Are you sure you're not English?" Not stopping to let me nod, he continued, "She's a servant. We aren't barbarians. These are savage elves whom we civilised by giving them a proper education. Thus, we will show them our ways with hard work."

Rubbing my forehead, I could feel a migraine coming in.

"This isn't a joke, right?" I looked towards Joren's eyes, and his expression turned to surprise. Weakly smiling, I turned back to face the Chairman and sank into my thoughts.

It was breaktime, as men got out of their chairs and shuffled out of the room. Seeing Joren leave, I followed behind him. Leaving the room, I was greeted with a typical Western town from a Western film.

"Not going to take your gun?" Joren quipped, and I looked towards the corner, where a lone gun sat. Grabbing the sling and slinging it over my shoulder, I followed Joren and took the occasional glances around the town.

Dirt roads. Carriages were scurrying about, with carriage men keeping their guns close. The flag I saw earlier stood proud on many buildings, flapping against the winds. I checked my belt, which had a container filled with ammunition. Ensuring everything was proper, I followed behind Joren. I was lost, and I didn't know how to proceed.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Hell, I don't even know whether this is a dream because this is the strangest dream I have ever had. Usually, in my dreams, I am me. But here I am, a white man who uses a muzzle rifle? I checked my gun for any rifling, and it turned out negative. So, I have a smoothbore gun, great.

From what I could infer from the meeting, I assume it was some parliamentary session, as it discussed various state affairs. So, I was either a parliamentarian or a representative of one. That means I must either be a powerful man or represent some influential people. Secondly, I was likely not a powerful man considering that no "servants" had accosted me when I left the room. I kept my gazes at the other men having their "servants" attending to their every need.

"Jan!" I felt a pat on my shoulder and saw Joren looking at me.

"You coming with me?"

"Ugh… yeah," I followed him as he dragged me towards a saloon.

Barking off some words in Dutch to the barkeep, he brought some hard biscuits and dried meats. I stared inquisitively at the foo, poking it with a spoon and fork. I tried chipping away at the biscuits, but I only made a small dent after quite some time trying to chip it away.

"These are Biltong and Rusks. Have them with the beer," Joren explained as he watched the rather curious actions of the foreigner.

Taking a small sip of the beer, I set the cup down. "Tastes like piss. How much water is added into it."

"As jy die goeie goed wil hê, sal jy ekstra moet betaal!" The barkeep commented, causing Joren to snicker. Not understanding the man's words, I tried to chip away at the biscuit and managed to chip away a tiny piece. Putting it in my mouth, I mixed it with the beer and wanted to get it down.

A sudden thought came to my mind, "If this was a dream, how come the inhabitants can speak in a foreign language."

Then another thought intruded," If this was not a dream, what about the sewage? Don't tell me I must let it out in a bucket?"

It ended with, "Why the fuck would anyone want to be a protagonist of a historical novel?"

Eating was slow, terribly slow. Joren was already striking up a conversation with the barkeep. From the occasional gestures and words like "Engelsman" used, I could already guess they were talking about me. And, of course, they had to use Dutch, which I do not understand.

"What's today's date?"

"1st January 1840 in the year of our lord."

"A.D.?"

"A.D."

"We have quite many years before the British annexed us; then we'll pack our bags inland," I mulled in my thoughts, wondering if it's even possible to centralise the government. How could you get people who are essentially Western cowboys to obey the law? The biggest problem is Port Natal…

After taking an excruciatingly long time to finish my meal, I turned to face Joren. "Could you teach me some basic Dutch?"

"Dutch? We speak Elfrikaans!"

I tried my best to surprise my cringe, but it took immense effort not to laugh out loud.

"So we are in Elfrica?"

"Yes! Where else would we be? Amsterdam?"

I began bursting into laughter; oh, what an absurd name. Elfrica.

"What's so funny about it?"

"It sounds… hah, so stupid!"

"Don't blame us; blame the Romans, those Elven fetishists," Joren shook his head and sighed.

Taking some time to laugh, I got it out of my system. "Anyway, could you teach me some Elfri… hmmgghh, heh, Elfrikaans…"

"I could teach you some basic words… but honestly. Your father has no sense to bring you out here if you don't even know a single word of Elfrikaans. You should have stayed in the Cape Colony."

I shrugged, "Didn't have a choice in the matter."

"Well, I shall start with some simple greetings. Hallo, ek is Joren Hoenderman. Aangename kennis," Joren paused, carefully enunciating his words, "It means, Hi, I'm Joren Hoenderman. Nice to meet you."

Oren and I took some time to go through some basics. Whilst it won't bring me any closer to understanding the parliamentary proceedings, I needed to start somewhere.

"What about parliament?"

"What is parliament?"

"The meeting we went just now."

"Oh, that is Volksraad. People's Council."

Reciting those words mentally and verbally, Joren checked and closed his pocket watch.

"It's time to go," He left his seat.

A new individual stood around the room. Many men went up to shake hands with him. I did not recognise him, but he was a big shot. A moustache sat upon his upper lip as a goatie hung onto his chin.

"Pretorius!" Secretary Joren strolled into the group of men and shook the man's hand. I sheepishly followed behind him, feeling the gazes of the men parting way.

"Lekker om jou te sien Joren, hoe gaan alles?"

"Could you speak English? We have an Englishman within our midst," The room cracked out in laughter at my expense.

"Pleasure to meet you," I took Joren's place and stood before the man. Pretorius extended his hand, and I took the opportunity to shake it. His hands were calloused, and his blue irises studied me from head to toe.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr Jan?"

"Jan Boatwojek," I tried to pronounce my supposed name, but it sounded wrong. Still, Pretorius paid my faux pas no mind.

"So why are you here, Pretorius?" Joren asked.

"I received news that the British Highlanders left Port Natal last year on 24th December. A couple of Kommandos and I plan on securing the port."

"Then?"

"I'm sure everyone in the room has heard of the chaos in Zululand. We'll be assisting pretender Mpande in crushing the traitorous Queen Dingane."

"Dien daai teef reg!"

"Onthou Piet Retief!"

"Ons wil in vrede lewe, hoekom sal daai elwe ons nie met rus laat nie!"

Words that were likely swears filled the room. It seems this Queen, whoever she was, was intensely disliked. Zululand? Isn't that a reference to the Zulus? The last time I remembered, they had a king… Once again, it was like the heavens had fallen from the sky. Not only are they elves, but it seems they are also gender-bent. Fantastic.

Everyone began taking their seats as the celebrity took a seat by the Chairman.

"Who is he?" I tapped on Joren's shoulder and pointed at Pretorius.

"Are you serious? Jan! He is the founder of our Republic! Battle of Blood River? Do you not know any of that? How can you call yourself a Voortrekker if you don't even know such things!" Joren seemed to lose his temper somewhat as he slammed into my ignorance.

The meeting was paused. Everyone turned to face Joren. The meeting proceeded away as Joren failed to provide any additional input

I decided to leave the man to his thoughts. Still, the meeting was also incomprehensible since it used Elfrikaans. So I looked at my memories and tried to dig up whatever information I'd read during my brief foray on Wikipedia. Unfortunately, I did not remember much, so I could only sigh and pretend to listen to the meeting.

Joren did not provide any translations this time. So I decided to copy whatever I saw and follow what the rest did. I raised my hands when people raised their hands. I nodded when people turned to face me. A simple nod, a slight downward tilt of my head, before their eyes would turn to meet someone else in the room.

Unfortunately, it seemed I blended in too well, as the current speaker pointed at my raised hand and took his seat. I stood up and looked around the room. My eyes landed on Pretorius, who raised an eyebrow at my sudden participation.

"Umm… could you repeat what you said."

"It looks like the British forgot one more highlander!" And everyone burst out in laughter, making me feel awkward.

Joren seemed to have calmed down as he stood up and whispered in my ear.

"He said, did anyone have any further input on securing recognition on the International stage? I'll translate whatever you say, so do not worry."

Finally, it looks like I can use my Victorian gamer knowledge.

"Our enemies are the Africans… I mean Elfricans around us. The numerous Elfricans tribes like the Zulu and the Xhosa. They outnumber us and can easily catch us by surprise if we're not careful," I paused, letting Joren translate my words. Pretorius sat up a little straighter, interested in my words.

"The British won't recognise us as they prefer us under their boot. So that rules them out. The second best option would be Portugal, but that would be untenable as they are under the British Sphere of Influence, so they won't go against their foreign policy," I paused once again and let the men in the room nod their heads in agreement.

"Now, most of us are Dutch in origin. However, the Netherlands is not the Great Power it once was. Belgium has broken away from it, taking away much of its industrial capacity. The Dutch are a shell of its once former self," I could see eyes lit up in surprise from such information, which made me wonder why.

"So that rules them out. The best option, in my opinion, is France. They have some presence in the nearby Sante-Marie. No doubt they have their desires set on Madagascar. If they expand their presence in the region, we'll have a reliable Great Power on our back. However, some other powers like Russia and Germany would also be good," I paused, and while some still nodded their heads, I could see some were confused.

"Jan, you know that Russia is a concept by the Muscovites. The Steppes of Eurasia are filled with Centaur Khanates," Pretorius remarked.

"What is Germany? Do you mean Prussia or Austria?" Joren asked.

I don't even know what to comment on Russia.