A Zulu Impi warrior trudged through the dark. The pale skin inhabitants had him on edge as he wormed his way through this unfamiliar environment. The strange architecture was something out of this world. The inhabitants speak a wildly exotic language. Everything was just not Zulu.

But like the few other Zulus who came to this new town, they were looking for opportunities. Simply cultivating their maize and raising cattle was all that was destined for them, but some simply wanted another way. He was few. Raised alongside men from eight, he helped men along during their campaigns. Carrying their bags and cleaning their weapons, he always knew he wanted something different. Yet that something different was so dangerous…

Rumbling could be heard from the next alleyway down. The elf paused and found four pairs of eyes looking back at him from the alleyway.

Burp! One man let out, and he staggered forward, gesturing at him.

"Wie het hierdie swartkie hier laat!" (Who let this blackie here!)

The man hollered, and the man closed the gap, swinging a glass bottle in his left hand. He paused, took a swig, and shook his body as if he was gearing up for a fight.

"Ja, fok hom op!" (Yeah, fuck him up!) Another shouted and gestured at the Zulu. His movements were steady, showing all signs of sobriety, lacking the poison of alcohol.

The drunk lunged, and the Zulu stepped to the side, letting his swing miss.

"Kan jy nie stilstaan nie!" (Can't you stand still!") The man made another lunge, trying to grapple the elf. But the elf lightly shoved him, causing him to lean against a wall. As the drunk pushed himself against the wall, his friend helped to support him.

"Fok hy is gewapen met 'n spies!" (Fuck he's armed with a spear!)

The drunk's friend reached for his gun, and the Zulu lunged, tackling the man onto the ground. As they fought tooth to nail, punching and kicking at one another, the Zulu felt cold steel behind his back.

As the Zulu turned, the gunman kicked off and reached for his gun. Paddling with his legs, he grasped onto his rifle and smiled to see backup. The two other friends at the scene had their guns pointing right at the Zulu. The elf dropped his spear, and sat against the ground, knowing better than to resist.

"Dis hoe 'n slaaf soos jy moet optree." (That's how a slave like you should behalf.)

The gunman grinned and stood up. Confidently striding forward, he landed a kick to the solar plexus. The Zulu leaned forward and coughed. The man landed another kick, making the elf groan. Once the elf recovered, he slammed the butt of his musket on the elf's face, bruising him. As the elf lay on the ground, he spat on him.

"Fok hom op." (Fuck him up.)

All the men rained blows on the elf who groaned and cried for help. A punch to the eye. A kick to the stomach. They rained their frustrations on the living punching bag which sputtered and gasped for air. As the Zulu lay unconscious on the ground, they laughed, and walked off, leaving the elf groaning.

Too bad this world wasn't like the anime world, where species can live in peaceful harmony as soon as the protagonist took over. Jan sighed, as the horrifying incident reached his ears. As he sat in his pondering what his next actions were, the whole Port was in an uproar. Small arguments already broke out in the marketplace as men were shouting at one another, accusing each other of crimes their species commit.

Elves are savage and started a fight. The Zulu was armed with a spear, and the men had to defend themselves from the threat.

Humans are vicious. Even if their opponent is down, they had to beat the poor man while their down.

The Zulu-Boer project was at stake. And for the first time, Jan could not feel confident. Such incidences weren't unique in the geopolitics game he played. Such events popped out from time to time. But the events weren't personal, they affected 0s and 1s. But this, this hit close to home.

A woman trudged into his office. From the footsteps, he could already guess who the presence could be. He looked up from his desk to see his Veldkornet, Nokuthula. She was fuming, and her face lacked mirth. Gritting her teeth, she bashed his desk.

Bang! The items on his desk shook from the impact, and he could only frown from her barbarianism. As she stood there, standing up straight with her posture as high as it could be, she glared down at him. He pouted and got up from his seat.

"So… no need to be said why you're here?"

Nokuthula did not reply.

"It's about the incident, isn't it?" Jan asked, and she nodded her head.

"How can I help you?"

Breathing out her frustrations, she spoke," It's simple. Punish these Boers for their insolence. I want to have them executed! But out of respect for our partnership, have them subjected to 20 years of hard labour."

'What kind of respect is that? They die in a year or two under such conditions.' Jan thought.

"You should know that's not possible. The men ought to be punished reasonably. A year or two of hard labour will be good." Jan stopped and realized he should probably codify laws else he will have to become a Chinese magistrate and handle these numerous court cases constantly.

"Unacceptable! Is this how you want these men to perceive Zulu lives? Lesser than Boer? Slaves to Boers like the Khoikhoi?" Nokuthula stormed out, leaving little words.

Jan sighed. Oh, this matter cannot be simply resolved.

Another man came in, hiding behind the door as the angry Zulu Chieftess stormed out.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"Looks like I came at the wrong time," The man apologized, and stretched out his hand. Catching his hand, Jan shook it.

"Always a pleasure to see you," Jan smiled.

"Today, I came for business, as usual," Joren paused, and as Jan's smile was erased, he continued," One of the men is one of the sons of my numerous business associates. I hope you will not be too harsh on him. A mere slap on the wrist will hopefully be sufficient."

"I can't do that. Our Zulu partners will break away from this partnership. And Praetorius will come after me. Who will answer to him?"

"Jan, I believe you are a very smart man. You've come this far through all the various challenges. I'm sure you can resolve it in a manner satisfactory to both parties. If that is not enough of an incentive, we can always discuss things in terms of money. How much do you want? I can hand it over today, anytime."

Jan shook his head, "I'm sorry. But I need time to think."

Joren grimaced, and sighed, "Please understand that how you handle these tumultuous times will be a reflection of our future working relationship. What can the Zulus do for you? They have built most of the things around us. But all they have is cattle and maize. What else?"

The man left, not even leaving a goodbye.

"Fokken ondermenslike elwe." (Fucking subhuman elves.)

"Barbare." (Barbarians.)

"Glad nie vertrou kan word nie." (Can't be trusted at all.)

Murmurs echoed in the Boer districts as Jan decided to take a walk. So far, few newcomers recognized his face as he rarely made his rounds. Only a few important men and women who could bypass the small workforce of bureaucrats occasionally talked to him. But the rest? They saw him as another trekker.

And here he was, dining out as racist remarks let loose from their loose lips. The owner has even hung a sign by the window. It states 'No filthy elves allowed'. Good thing few elves recognize Elfrikaans or Dutch, else they would burn this place to the ground.

An indescribable line is drawn within the town. On one end is known as Zulutown, where the elves hang out. Few men ventured into their territory, fearing they might end up a carcass.

The elves were the same. And more of them wielded spears. A few lucky men were equipped with firearms, showing that some of the princess' loyalists have settled in the Port.

Being the Commando, he decided to test his luck. Technically he was in charge, just that few people recognized him. But still, surely he won't be killed if he stepped into the Zulu district. He passed the white faces only to start seeing more Zulu housing. A merge of Boer architecture and Zulu. Their igloo-looking huts had multiple stories, and elves were keeping an eye out. Specifically, on him, the only man bravely venturing into Zulu territory.

Strange glares were given to him from both races. Men were calling out at him, telling him to get back on their side or else he will get killed. Taking step after step, fearing for the life of someone who looked like them, they began reaching for their firearms.

Seeing the Boers reaching for their firearms, the Zulus reached for their spears. At this point, Jan decided to de-escalate the situation by heading back to the district dedicated to humans. A few stern-looking elves were looking at him menacingly, pointing their spearheads at him. He meekly headed back, making sure to keep his hands off his firearm.

"Jan? What are you doing here? Get back to your district," Nokuthula politely spoke, this time dressed in traditional Zulu clothing. Leopard skin was heavily decorated on her bodice, showing her status amongst the Zulus.

Seeing such a big shot appear, the men raised their firearms, and the Zulus raised their shields.

Jan turned around and nodded, and the Zulu men closely backed off, letting him go back to his district unharried. Looks like he can't even step into half of his town before almost getting killed.

"Ohh… thanks." Jan casually spoke, and the Boers dumbly looked at one another as the two spoke in an alien language to them. It was reminiscent of what English merchants that came from time to time spoke to one another. As they looked into one another's eyes, there was one thing they thought.

'Is dit Engels?' (Is that English?)

The Zulu Chieftess entered Jan's office in Western clothing with a stern look. Stifling a cough, Jan sat up straight and leaned his elbows against the table.

"As Commando, I didn't expect that there were some parts of town I cannot enter," Jan shook his head.

"Things are tense. I recommend laying off from my side of town. If you want to wrap things up, then punish the men."

"You know I can't do that. It will anger the Boers."

"Then what about the Zulu? Are we not equals in your eyes?"

Nokuthula frowned and was about to storm off once more.

"I can't make such a hasty decision. I must meet up with the victims and perpetrators to hear their side of the story before handing out such judgements."

"Very well. I can bring you to see the Zulu warrior."

Traversing to Zulutown with Nokuthula leading the way was less stressful. With a simple headband of leopard skin around her forehead, few approached her or her guest. He was brought to a more urbanized part of Zulutown, the influences of urban architecture influencing Zulu buildings. Instead of a simple hut, there were multi-storied buildings with some touches of concrete used here and there in an experimental fashion.

The Zulu elves wore all sorts of clothing. Yet for the plebians, there was one thing in common, they did not have a piece of leopard skin on them. For the few that wore them, Nokuthula glared at them, and they quickly removed them from their persons, deferring to her. Few were wearing any Western clothing.

"How's trade? No merchants selling any Western goods?" Jan asked as he wondered why none of the Zulus adopted Western clothing.

"Few bother trading with us. We don't have any gold or pounds, only maize or cattle. Few would also trade their cattle for worthless clothes," Nokuthula shrugged as she explained.

"Would you mind if clothes were free?"

"Who would say no to free? What are the costs?"

"As a Commando of Port Mpande, I do have the responsibility to serve my fellow Zulu inhabitants. I could get some Western clothing free of charge."

The Chieftess looked over to study Jan's gaze, before turning back to a two-storied Zulu building.

"We're here."

Upon Jan's entry into the building, everyone tensed up, taking a couple of steps back to reach for their nearest weapons. With a simple raise of her hand, they stopped in their steps and continued doing what they had to do.

Simple beds, which were mats with straw held the sick and injured. Some panicked at the sight of his skin, probably asking others to strike him down where he stood. But Nokuthula ignored them and brought him up a flight of stairs.

"At the end of the room is Nhlahla, I bid you good luck."

Nokuthula stopped, and let him approach the injured elf. She watched her every action, and Jan could feel it as he turned around to look at the heavily bruised being. Their eyes opened in fear as he approached.

"I will translate the words you say. So, speak as you wish," Nokuthula explained as Jan looked towards her.

"Who are you?" The elf demanded, their body quivering as they fought to get up.

"Commando of the town you stay in, how can I help?" Jan took a seat by the elf.

"I translated that as Chieftess. There are no words in the Zulu dictionary that could capture the Boer meaning of Commando." Nokuthula informed, before continuing her duties.

"You don't look like a chieftess?" The elf scanned him from head to toe, most noticeably, stopping his gaze on his unfeminine chest and hips.

Jan facepalmed.

"Tell me what happened to you."

Nhlahla began regaling a tale of how he was interested in something else other than working with the other Zulu warriors. Even if he spent almost all his life in a Zulu Impi, that didn't mean he wanted to spend the rest of his life as a warrior. Recently feeling very disassociated with the other warriors, he heard of Port Mpande through some emigrants who were looking for another way to live. Port Mpande, a joint ownership between Zulu and Boer, allowed one to live as they wish to live. It was a home not too far from home. He packed his belongings and uprooted himself, sneaking away during the night to have any of the warriors stop him.

Entering the Port by St Lucia Bay, he was completely lost and spent hours wandering about. Inadvertently, he wandered into Boer districts and got caught up with some Boer aggression.

"That's all he had to say," Nokuthula explained, as the Zulu kept silent, seemingly relieved to have someone else listen to their tale.

"Kufanele ngikubuyisele emuva." Nokuthula said in her people's language, causing the Zulu warrior to shiver.

"Kodwa uma nje uvuma ukuthi ngiyinkosikazi, anginankinga."

Those words made the Zulu warrior rapidly nod his head.

Just as Jan was trying to process her words, she turned to face him. "Now, let us find the Boer perpetrators."

"Who were they anyway? No one is coming out to step out and claim responsibility for the incident."

"Would you believe me if we said we kidnapped them?"

"Could you repeat that?"

"We kidnapped them."

"…"

"Do you know what you have done?"

"Are you going to start a diplomatic incident over the kidnapping of scum? If we didn't do so, they will never be found."

Jan sighed and meekly followed her to another building. The implications were horrifying, to say the least.

'Note to self, do not piss off the Zulu.' Jan thought.