In Europe, Prussia, one man had a crazy dream. In it, he unified the German states into one united Germany. And he was its chancellor. He woke up groggy from his dream, calling it absurd, and went off to take a piss in the middle of the night.
In South America, Argentina, another man had a dream. In it, he led the charge of men in redshirts, liberating cities into the Italian Republic. Yet for some reason, Italy became a Monarchy. He woke up in cold sweat, swearing.
In Elfrica, another had a crazy dream. In it, he unified the Elfrican entities and Boer Republics under a federation that sought to kick the British out. Like Garibaldi of his old world, he saw Boers opening the gates to fellow Boers, liberating British towns into the fold. As he woke up, also groggy from his dream, he stared out at the night sky. The night sky with all the stars glittered in its beauty, unaffected by modern streetlamps that obscured it.
Remembering that dream, Jan remarked that it was a stupid idea and was wholly unrealistic, for why would English towns be liberated by Boers? Shouldn’t it be liberated by fellow English, but why would fellow Englishmen liberate their towns? Then he remembered, for he was in the Victorian age, and it was full of crazy people, like the Fascists, Communists and the Jacobins.
Families of all colours, whether it be white or black, or even the rare mixed trekked onwards. Whilst in another location, they may give each other a hard time. All of them were unified in opinion one thing, escaping British rule. Most notable were the Griquas, another name for the mixed trekkers. Few wanted to mess with them, for they were the best commandoes around. The mixed races were mostly conscripted to fight against the various Elfrikaan tribes. With their skills with firearms, they left in droves to settle inland. One place where these half-elves gathered was a place known as Griquatown led by a certain Adam Kok.
A mixed group looked towards the wagon coming back, and the men kept their rifles closed. The wagon drivers hailed one another, before continuing their way, letting both sides heave a sigh of relief.
The men were nervous, for they were entering the outskirts of the Xhosa. Over the years, much land was settled by the colonisers, and they fought back. At first with spears, but they have adapted to using firearms. They were outdated but paired with magic, and it is a frightening foe.
Bang! The sound of gunfire echoed, as the horses neighed and began increasing their speed. The carriage man tried to slow the horses to a stop, before retreating into the wagon, where the men all huddled underneath the seats. Holes entered into the white canvas of the wagon as bullets pass through them. The sounds of groans echoed as men were struck.
“How many servants have left to forage and scout ahead?” Praetorius demanded as he looked towards the cowering elf servants, huddling. It seemed a full volley was carried out, so Praetorius raised his head to peek through some of the holes in the wagon, observing their surroundings.
A hill overlooked them, and numerous rocks and tall grass likely hid their attackers. The smoke from the fired guns cannot be seen, so the seasoned trekker concluded.
“They have a mage with them!” The man bellowed, grabbing his firearm. He peeked out of the carriage, and angled his gun, observing his surroundings. He kept track of the seconds that passed.
When the countdown of around 15 seconds took place, he cowered and waited for the enemy to retaliate. Hearing no gunshots, he continued counting and stopped at 30 seconds when another volley came through. After 5 seconds, he peeked his head, and yet again, he saw no smoke.
“The mage must be blowing the smoke away!” The leader reported, and with a wave, he got the man out of the wagon, where they took the time to find cover. Whether it was beneath a rock, under a tree, or behind a wagon, they took positions and scanned a 360 view of their environment. Their servants cowered in the wagons, unarmed and unable to contribute to the fight.
Jan tensed up and his heart rate increased. It was going to be his first gunfight, and he could not even find the enemy. It would be ok if the enemy were wielding spears and shields like the Zulu, he could anticipate their attacks because they will be visible. But an invisible enemy was tough.
Another volley was shot down, and as Jan lay on the ground, a shot created an indent right by his left hand. As soon as the volley was done, Praetorius bellowed, and the men began ascending the hill within a short period and hid underneath their cover as another volley rained down.
The inexperienced Voortrekker felt so afraid as he didn’t want to be shot. He looked at his fellow servants who cowered with him and joined them.
One man caught up with an elf decked out in similar trekker clothing as they were reloading their firearm. At point-blank range, the Voortrekker opened fire and blew a hole in his chest before the elf could reach for their spear. The elf was likely inexperienced.
Strangely unnatural events began happening, rocks began rolling down the hill, forcing men to dive out of their cover, just as an elven volley opened, forcing them to eat lead.
Mini traps caused men to be swallowed into the ground. Their feet were stuck in the ground, making them exposed. Volleys took them down.
When the men were finally near the top of the hill, Praetorius pointed and bellowed, “Charge!” And he rushed forward with his musket, with a group of Boers and overwhelmed the elves?
The hilltop was empty, but the men could see black dots in the distance, rushing away from them. They seemed like they were skating along the ground, for the way their feet and the ground interacted was wholly unnatural. The men took potshots and the escaping elves, but by then, they have escaped the range of their firearms.
The trip continued, as the servants patched up their masters. The ones who couldn’t be saved were buried, graves were dug up by servants, and Praetorius uttered a prayer for every man. One thing every man was sure of as they pleaded to the god, was that they never wanted to meet another Xhosa attack again.
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“Jan, what the hell was that?” Praetorius growled as he pulled the man to the side. One look into his eyes showed immense restrained fury.
“…”
“Men were out there dying to keep you safe. Why are you holding that firearm since you’re not going to use it? What makes you different from the servants who cowered underneath the gunfire?”
“…”
“Nothing to say. I see. But I do not want any such performance from a soon-to-be Commando. You may be a good dealmaker, but every Commando must protect their people. I will not respect cowardice, and will even strip you of your position, regardless of what your father says.”
That was a lie. As he could not strip Jan of his position, due to the decentralized nature of government, but the young man kept silent, as the difference in position made it intimidating.
“…”
Praetorius stormed off without even looking back at the coward.
Of course, influencing Praetorius was not going to be easy. The man respected men who were like him, so naturally, the instincts Jan had from birth due to his old world had to be removed. The Modern World provided many comforts, never had he felt the thirst to kill another person, nor had he had to fight to defend himself. So he naturally froze up in a combat situation. It didn’t matter if he trained with the firearm if he can’t use it.
Jan and Praetorius didn’t communicate any further after that incident at the Xhosa border, but they pretended things were fine, so the men acted as normal, knowing things weren’t fine.
As they headed for Cape Town, the sight of homesteaders was all too common. They were mostly farmers living off subsistence farming, but they had some skills to defend themselves, for, at the border with the Xhosa, conflicts between the two were common. They stopped at a small town, more specifically, a little outpost where a small church resided.
Considering Jan felt a little lost, he headed inside the church and made his prayers.
Dodo, dodo. Some nice elevator music was playing as he waited.
“Hello sir, this is Angel Henry. How can I help you?”
“I’m looking to learn how to defend myself.”
“From the files, I can see about you... Click, click, scroll, scroll… Sir, you have some experience in firearms. You can defend yourself, sir? Unless you are talking about identity theft, in which I recommend setting up your 2-factor authentication.”
“Why is there such as 2-factor authentication? What is this nonsense.”
“Click, click… Ahh, sir. I see you have little to no combat experience. Although you can shoot a little, you’re unable to put it to use. That is why I recommend the sport of hunting in Elfrica.”
“Hunting?”
“It’s a way to get you to train against moving targets. As well as targets that can harm you. It will help train your nerves so that you can steel them in a real combat situation. If you are satisfied with this feedback, press 1. If you are not satisfied with this feedback, press 2. If you want to…”
“One.”
“Thank you very much, sir, have a nice day! Dodo, do, do. Dodo, dodo do.”
Jan swore that the church must be a scam and it wasn’t some god running it, but some Alien Tech Support centre. But to these people in the Victorian age, he could see how they seem holy.
Still, hunting in the Victorian age. He was in Elfrica, his old world’s version of Africa. So what kind of wildlife can he work with?
There’s the zebra, the rhino, the buffalo, the lion and the leopard. In short, there are many. But fewer would maul him. So, he decided to start with a herbivore.
He headed back to the wagons and heard that some men were looking to put together a hunting expedition.
“I’m interested,” He announced, and the men stared blankly at him. Seeing that he was interested, they shrugged.
“Sure, why not. But you’re expected to down your prey,” A man explained, before conversing with the rest. Relations between him and the men weren’t always the best. He was deadweight and contributed little to the party. At least the servants helped with the various chores, but Jan sat around and ate their supplies like a spoiled aristocrat. Little could wonder why he didn’t have respect.
A few hours later, they set off for his first hunting expedition.
The men were crouching in the grass as they stalked the antelope slowly walking about. A nearby wind brought the foreign scent to its nose, and it looked at the exposed humans. It started bolting.
“Vuur!”(Fire!)
Shots were fired as the men gave chase. They threw their firearm away to their servants who threw another loaded firearm into their arms.
The antelope was running quicker and quicker out of range, trampling all of the tall savannah grass beneath its hooves.
In the direction that the antelope was running to, the other men hid amongst the grass, their firearms pointing at the antelope. 300 metres.
Jan fidgeted with his firearm, his fingers tensing. He briefly imagined what it was like to be pierced by the large antlers of the antelope.
200 metres. Men on the other side were shouting at their servants, cursing them for letting the antelope find them.
100 metres. Firing range. The antelope was running in a straight line towards his direction. It was a relatively easy shot. All he had to do was do what he did at the shooting range.
Pulling the trigger, he aimed it right between the creature’s eyes, letting loose smoke from his firearm.
Bang! He held onto the gun as it pushed him back. The antelope raised its hindlegs, startled by the explosion, and the bullet merely grazed its legs. Jan cursed.
The other men fired a volley into the creature and downed it. The creature collapsed onto the ground as it cried with agony, as numerous wounds opened up in it.
“Dit is vervelig. Net een skepsel. Watter idioot het dit voorgestel!” (This is boring. Only one creature. Which idiot suggested this!)
“Ja, wat van 'n hele trop sebras.” (Yeah, what about a whole herd of zebras.)
The men trekked about, but they could not find a zebra herd nearby. So, they turned in for the day.
Cape Town was the capital of Cape Colony, now controlled by the British. First colonised by the VOC or Dutch East India Company, it was meant to be a place where ships can be resupplied amidst their travel between Europe and Asia. Due to the Napoleonic wars, Britain temporarily occupied the Cape. And by the end of the wars, they now owned the Cape.
However, Cape Town was in the far west, and for their plans, they do not need to be in the far west. The nearest port was Port Elizabeth. And it stood as an outpost against the Xhosa people in the East.
Its beaches were beautiful, and ships unloaded both goods and people. All sorts of languages were spoken. French from the descendants of the Protestant Huguenots that left France. German for the various descendants of the Germans working for the Dutch East India Company. Dutch from the original settlers. And most of all, English between the various ruling elite. The influences from all of them formed the language of Afrikaans, or in this world, Elfrikaans.
Stefaan Stuut sighed, as he hefted cargo from the ship. Sold by the various men claiming that a bright future awaited in Africa, he sold all his possessions in the Netherlands and came to the Cape Colony. With his knowledge of Dutch, he figured he would still be comfortable speaking the strange ‘Elfrikaans’ in this place. There will be land, and he could farm without a care in the world.
Except, he needed a wagon, and supplies to make the trek to Port Natal. Elfrican wood was hard and sturdy, making good wagons. But wagons also needed to be filled with supplies. And he also needed people, and companions to come along with him on this journey to keep him safe. Let’s not even mention the elf slaves… he meant servants!
Stefaan looked at the dark elf before him, hefting the same cargo. That individual was muscular and seemed to be a perfect servant helping him with his future trip. Problem is, he needed money. And where could an unskilled man with big dreams get money? Of course, through manual labour. He did ask around for trekkers looking for people, but they all rejected him. He was only a mere farmer, everyone here was a mere farmer, they were looking for people who could contribute. So he grumbled, stacking the box onto the previous worker’s box.
English soldiers made their rounds, checking goods. But they didn’t put much thought into it, a mere scan, and they sent it along the way. Stefaan grinned as they walked away, and he took the time to sit on the box and rest for a moment, catching his breath. It was the first time seeing men from the Orient. Indians and the Chinese were the providers of all so exotic goods that made the Netherlands rich. Here they were lifting cargo left and right, no different from him, a poor Dutchman. And here he thought they were extremely wealthy people, it turned out they were no different from him!