"A proper road should be paved from Pietermaritzburg to Port Mpande. So much trade has passed through between the two towns, and they have become economically dependent on one another. A dirt road used by all other trekkers before it is insufficient. It should be paved with proper gravel and stone," The speaker spoke in Elfrikaans. His words received nods from the various members of the Volksraad, but Jan did not nod along with them.

Joren at his side whispered into his ears, "His family owns a quarry nearby. So, if such a road is constructed, it will use his stone. I'm sure he will jack up the price."

"Port Mpande benefits the most from such an infrastructure project. And they should foot the bill for this enormous undertaking." And with that, the Dutch speaker sat down to let a half-hearted discussion rumble around the room.

Jan stood up, letting their eyes fall on him. Codeswitching to Elfrikaans, he spoke up, "This is a fine initiative. But where will we get the workers for the roads? It is harvesting season in October, and our men are busy harvesting their crops. I believe it is better to have this matter to be discussed during the winter when the men are free."

He sat back down, and now the men in the room were nodding their heads in agreement.

"That was brilliant. Labour is hard to come by during these months, so he will have every reason to charge high prices for stone. But once the planting of the crops is done, with farmers having little to do, they'll partake in various gigs."

And like every topic brushed over in the Volksraad, it was forgotten soon after as the men went on to other topics.

Sarel Cilliers was promoting Dutch Churches to be constructed in every town. For in his words, they had to repay their debt to God for allowing them victory during the Battle of Blood River. They needed to show their gratitude so that they may receive salvation.

The trekkers paid attention to his words, but their descendants brushed his words aside. To prevent himself from getting on such an influential man's bad side, he decided to pretend to be the former.

All in all, little substance was discussed and Jan could only think of why he bothered to study Dutch to understand what was going on here. If only his father told him earlier that it was a waste of time, he probably would not have so fervently pursued mastery of Elfrikaans.

Ratmen were scurrying about the fields bringing their surveying instruments about. Ratfrica Mining Co was busy looking at a black substance recently discovered in this field. The farmer welcomed their presence after they introduced who they were, seeking to gain some profit from the black dirt.

The black stuff, as rubbed in the rat's hand interested the rat. He was Bastian Haneke, the son of a family of rats that managed mines owned by the House of Fugger. And that black dirt, which had recently gained prominence in England, as families use it in place of firewood. If his hunch is right, he suspected coal was nearby.

The farmer brought his recent harvest to his men, asking about progress every hour. All Bastian could do was squeak that progress was fine. But the farmer kept coming by. Although a nuisance, the free food and refreshments were appreciated by his fellow rats.

A small deposit was found. But who knew how big it was? It could be harvested for years or perhaps centuries. He informed the Boer, who danced around in glee, thanking him profusely.

Bastian could only smirk at the naivety of the farmer, he was sure he could convince the young Commando to scam this man out of most of the profits of the mine and get him away. Some companies in mind might be interested in harvesting the coal, but he will have to contact them.

Still, the sign of a small deposit is good. There are likely more deposits nearby. He will milk the farmer for every food and drink he provided and undersell the value of such a small deposit. With a large advance, the farmer will leave, and he will profit. Until then, let the digging continue.

And with the Volksraad proceedings over, with a few new friends and acquaintances in Pretorius' inner circle, he headed back to the port riding on horseback. The speed was rather slow, as the road was not smooth and rather bumpy. It reminded him of the man's proposal a few days ago in the Volksraad. The construction of paved roads would help boost infrastructure and further increase trade. But that will have to only wait when there is a surplus in labour. As it was the harvesting season, the markets were going to be flooded with food.

A few hours went by, and he passed by various merchant caravans all trudging on the same dirt road as his. And he could make out the outcroppings of the port. The fields of subsistence farms from homesteaders crowded on the outskirts. And he spotted a group of rats surveying one of those farms. Black dirt was being gathered up into a pile. Thinking that he had a small clue what it is, he decided to let the experts handle the matter. If the rats knew what were they, they'll tell him eventually.

The streets were different as merchants hauled in harvest after harvest from the October and November harvesting seasons. Warehouses were filled to the brim with food, and merchants were busy exploiting the low prices. The urban areas with the inns and taverns decided to try a scheme which made his lips curl downwards.

A sign in Elfrikaans was stuck onto one of the windows of one of those establishments.

WE SERVE FOOD GROWN BY FELLOW FARMERS, NONE OF THOSE ELVEN CRAP

It wasn't the only one, and he could plenty of those signs dotted throughout his side of the district. Farmers were walking up carrying signs.

BOYCOTT ELVEN GOODS, BUY HUMAN

Such signs were commonplace, and he moved aside from the farmers wielding their signs and their produce. It seems someone must have thought that such a scheme would allow them to sell their crops at a higher price. Some might be moved by such feelings, but Jan doubted most urban dwellers might be moved. If the price point of their food increased, he doubted the urbanites would have the same sentiment.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

He immediately headed to the town hall where the office was. Opening the doors, he could see bureaucrats dealing with the many farmers.

Dutch speakers were at the front dealing with their complaints. And he squeezed through them, using his elbows to shove them aside before leaping over the desk. Recognising him, the bureaucrats moved aside and he rushed into his office manned by the English bureaucrat Russell Corbyn.

"It's a mess out there," He shook his head.

"What the hell happened while I was gone?"

"Nothing. All the things we tried to do to lower the price of food was only a cup of water in the sea. Harvesting season just dumped more water into that sea, and we're drowning in it. The farmers are pissed with the extremely low prices of food. And they want Zulus out."

"How are the Zulus handling it?"

Russell walked over to the window and pointed to the Zulu districts.

"Nokuthula has called for a general mobilization of men and women. You can see they got elves with guns patrolling the other side, ready to get into action if anyone tries to escalate it."

Jan looked over, and sure enough, there were Zulus with guns there. A majority also only had spears with them as well.

"I'm sure that there's also an army in the forests over there. They don't want to play all their cards. We would all be massacred if some fool tries to poke the hive," Russell groaned.

"Well, Mr Boddewijk. It was nice knowing you. But I think it is best to evacuate the port. You might think it's highly unlikely that it would escalate, but believe me, there are many stupid people in this world. And they are going to send us to hell."

Russell began leaving the room but someone's word stopped him. "Wait."

Jan took a deep breath and let it out.

"God this is stressful," He remarked while hearing the muffled commotion outside the building.

Russell smirked.

"Anyhow, there must be a ringleader for the Boer side. I don't think these farmers want to start a war. They only want to sell their crops for a good price. So, we need a place where we can sell our crops for a good price. We definitely cannot rely on our local markets. Any states close by that are in urgent need of food?"

"There's the Egyptian Ottoman war going on in Egypt. The ruler of Egypt Muhammad Ali procured most of the food for his military. The Egyptians are smashing the Ottoman army are entering Anatolia. The Great Powers have threatened to intervene, sending their ships on standby, but the devastating Ottoman defeat has made them think twice about such an intervention."

'Eh? History has diverged once more. Why? Oh wait, the Russians don't exist. The only threats to Egypt are either the Austrians or the British. The British can smash the Egyptian navy, but I don't think they would wish to enter Anatolia to fight on the Ottoman's behalf. The same holds for the Austrians.'

"Muhammad Ali's supply lines are stretched thin. Prices of food should be soaring in the nation. I'm sure Egypt would be desperate. Although for such a voyage, we would have to use a large number of food preservatives. I don't know how we are going to be able to preserve all the food in a short amount of time to calm the unrest."

'It would be better to can the food. It looks like I might have to rush industrialization. That black stuff found by those rats ought to be coal. Should be able to power such machinery.'

"Could we… artificially buy up food in bulk at high prices so that we can quell the unrest?"

"We're going to need a lot of warehouses to store them. But we should be able to, but it is going to crunch up our finances. Another crisis like this, and we won't have the finances to avail it. Here's a better idea. Short term, the easy way to solve it is to encourage the residents to buy local Boer produce. The local Boers would feel good about this knowing that you support them. The current crisis is due to your lack of support for the local Boer communities. They see you as being too submissive to the Zulus and want you to be more assertive."

"But this would segregate our economies…"

"We could reintegrate the Zulu market later. But for now, any second now, some idiot going to run off into the Zulu district and get himself killed, sparking off a fucking riot."

Jan sighed.

"Very well. But I want a meeting with the ringleader of this."

"This is your Commando speaking. I am Jan Boddewijk. I understand your concerns about the low prices of food. But do you know whose fault is this? It is Zulu's fault! They come in here with their food and make us farmers poorer! So buy local, and support your local farmers!"

The crowd chanted their slogans of buying locally in Dutch. Seemingly satisfied with his words, they stormed out and left the town hall in a mess to continue parading in the streets.

"Well, spoken like a true politician. Blame the outsiders. You should try blaming the English though. They wouldn't dare to lynch their English traders after all," Russell commented.

"I thought of that. But someone riled them up against the Zulu."

A lone familiar man strutted into the town hall, Harrie Victorie. A man that represented the farmers during their meeting with the merchants. Yes, that man who signed a couple of futures contracts himself.

"I assume you're the one who summoned this mob?" Jan asked in Dutch.

Harrie shook his head.

"I didn't summon them. They came here of their own accord. Because we all knew where the problem lies. The Zulu entry into the market has lowered the price of food, lowered the living standards of all farmers overall, and brought nothing but misery. They are a plague. A plague that should be eradicated."

"They built this town for you. The reason you could enjoy the amenities or whatnot is due to their efforts."

"But we don't need them now. Everything runs smoothly. Except for those elves that occupied half of the living area. Look at their buildings. Look at their poverty. They couldn't run it even if it smacked them in the face."

Harrie took some steps forward, approaching Jan who reached for his gun.

"Don't need to worry a thing. I don't plan on harming you... Here is what I want, you tell the Zulu and get them to open their markets. They're dumping their goods on our markets, and we can't dump our goods in theirs! That's unfair."

"What do you mean unfair? You could dump your goods in theirs. But you didn't want to accept ivory, animal hide or whatnot."

"Why do I or most of us need any of that? That's for rich European Aristocrats. I'm a simple farmer. You tell the Zulus to give us more land. If not, it's war."

Harrie reached for his musket and Jan quickly pulled his gun. Russell quickly pulled his and dived behind a desk for cover. Yelling at Jan, someone fired a shot.

The round penetrated Harrie's thigh, making him stumble a couple of steps back. Staring at Jan, Harrie crumbled onto the ground. The shooter entered the room, wielding a firearm marked with the manufacturer Smith's Gun Store. Smoke drifted out of the barrel.

Pulling back their cloak, she slid the musket to Jan. Waving goodbye, she made a run for it as men with their rifles rushed into the building, wondering what the commotion was about. There, they see their collapsed representative groaning while clutching his thigh.

Two guns were on the floor, by their Commando. They all looked at him, pointing their guns at him.

"He tried to attack me," Jan nervously uttered and pointed at the small pistol by Harrie's side.

"What a mess," Russell commented, as he cleaned his musket.

They lingered at a local inn, a rare inn that refused to only sell Boer produce.

They didn't dare to head back to the town hall, lest someone else shows up to open fire.

"From what I have gathered from the other bureaucrats, Harrie is being treated at the local doctor. They're going to dig out the bullet. It's gonna hurt. Lucky for him, it's stocked with a decent supply of alcohol."

"So what now?" Jan asked.

"Well, the protests are dispersed. But my recommendation lay low for now. We don't know how many supporters Harrie Victor had. But one of them might try to get revenge on you. But the easiest way to make them forget is to fix the current low food prices crisis."

"Get me in contact with the local merchants from Belgium. I want someone that specializes in machinery. We will fix this once for and all."