“Zoutpansberg is divided between different groups of Boers. We all want gold, but no one is willing to cooperate. Instead of sharing the pie, we rather shoot everyone else and take the pie,” The Boer explained.

“Still, that doesn’t mean we won’t work together at times. The elves there don’t like us. So we got rid of them. They conducted numerous raids on our settlements. So we retaliated. But that’s not the most troubling affair. It’s the Lobedu dwarves. When we first reached Zoutpansberg, we watched some of their people panning for gold. That’s how we found out about the gold. They also have farms and fields right by the base of Zoutpansberg mountains.”

“We initially tried to cooperate and live side by side, but eventually, one faction splintered off and shot the dwarves. Then, it became a free for all as we seized whatever we could of their holdings by the mountains. The dwarves fled back into their mountains, and we chased after them, seeking to get their gold. The mountain is an impregnable fortress,” The Boer shook his head.

“Many men disappeared upon entering the tunnels. We could hear the tunnels collapse. And the screams. As loud as they were, begging for an end to their fate as they slowly withered away in the darkness. Most men perish in about 2 weeks. 2 weeks of suffering in the darkness,” The Boer shuddered.

“So, you decided to live with their presence close by?” Jan asked.

“Of course. What else can we do? Unless we can get enough gunpowder to blow the entire Zoutpansberg up, I don’t think we’ll be able to dislodge them. But I know they have a lot of gold inside. The gold we panned is the leftovers.”

“Uh,”

It was a nice way of describing their activities. Since no one would describe themselves as a villain, they would describe themselves as a hero instead. He wouldn’t mind if these men got addicted to Opium as well, he could also claw the gold for their grasp.

After some small talk, he bid the men goodbye and turned to face Potgieter who frowned.

“You bringing opium into Potchefstroom? Why?”

“Opium is an excellent painkiller. Better than using alcohol.”

“But at least alcohol isn’t as addictive as opium. Plus, those are British goods. It will do not well to have my men addicted to goods like that. I will not allow the consumption of opium in Potchefstroom.”

Jan shrugged his shoulders.

“Suit yourself, but the opium is not for your men.”

On the outskirts of Potchefstroom, Jan sipped a cup of sour milk along with his Zulu counterpart.

“How goes the exertion of Zulu power in the Free States?”

“Most of the chiefs have already fallen under us. We subjugated most of the biggest chiefs in the region. The rest all ran away. Still have the San to deal with. They are putting up endless resistance in the bushes,” Nokuthula explained, this time decked out in Western wear. From far away, one would think she was a Boer man, but closer up and they will think she is one of those half-elves. Only when they are right beside her, they would find out her true nature.

“So, where’s your princess’ Great Palace?”

Nokuthula smirked.

“If I tell you, what will you do with that information, Boer? Plus, you will be unable to get near without getting killed. So, please explain why you’ve decided to have us come out here and settle these lands?”

“It is as we’ve discussed. We needed someone to secure the route between Pietermaritzburg and Potchefstroom. Considering our past working relationship, I believe that you’re a trustworthy bunch. There is no reason to break the agreement since you have put your eggs in this basket. We are on the same boat, Nokuthula. Your princess already put in this much effort, surely, they’ll want to reap the rewards.”

“I don’t know what you are planning. But I do know that you are taking advantage of the princess’ youth and naivety to have her do something that wouldn’t benefit her. There is nothing to gain out here, but there is everything to be gained back in Natal.”

Jan tilted his head to the side.

“Instead of crowding back in Natal, you’ll now have more pastures for your chiefs here in the highveld. They will be more loyal to you. You have also reasserted the kingdom’s influence in the region. Surely, Queen Mpande must have rewarded your group. I don’t see how my deal has harmed you.”

Nokuthula’s lips curled up.

“It’s a very funny joke you speak. Queen Mpande instead reprimanded the princess for her rash actions. Whilst we have influence, we also gain more enemies. The Tswana, Xhosa, and Sotho peoples all disdain our reach in the region. And let us not mention you Boers, for you’ll not be pleased to have us so close to your settlements. There are benefits in the short term but in the future? I feel that you’re playing in the long game. What is your aim?”

Looking at the endless grasslands of the highveld, he spotted a couple of Zulu with their cattle grazing on the grass in the near distance.

“There is no long-term aim. I am only a simple farmer.”

“Really? If you were, then you lack the small of shit around your body. Nevermind, I found the shit. It’s in your words.”

The establishment of the trade routes was an exciting prospect for all Boers. Along the routes, would be a safe spot for towns and farms to be established. He doubted the Zulus would oppose their presence. Of course, they must be reasonable in their land grab, but he doubted any Boer would dare to settle right in the Princess’ Great Palace.

He was discussing with Potgieter about the goods they would be excellent for trading.

“The De Buys live right by Zoutpansberg, and as the name implies, it is full of salt. We do trade for their salt, which is rather cheap. I think this would be a good export. There are also Ivory and animal skins from the local Tswana. However, we need guns. A lot of them. I would also like some artillery pieces. For that, I can provide gold. But I want a better deal than what the British merchants offer.”

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Jan nodded.

It would be a waste to dump all that gold into buying weapons. He would dump his stockpile of weaponry in Potgieter’s hands and use that gold to fuel the creation of industry.

First were the cultivators and their gun stores. He was going to reorganize them into workshops where they use assembly line methods. Cultivators would become the managers of these factories and would oversee the workers working. Each worker would work on a small component, instead of a cultivator crafting an entire gun by themselves. This way, things would be done faster. Sure, the cultivators would complain, but will they complain once their pay allows them to enjoy the standards of living afforded by the Upper and middle classes?

Not all of them would comply because the old ways must be upheld or some nonsense. But for the upstarts, they would take up such a comfy job.

The two discussed further on trade.

Bang! A man shoved the door and ran to Potgieter’s desk. Slamming a piece of parchment on the desk, he uttered in Elfrikaans, “Letter from Andries Pretorius of the Natalia Republic.”

Potgieter reached for the parchment and began skimming through it. Verifying the sender, he passed it to Jan.

“Tell me, what do you think I should reply to your boss? I’m sure you should know how to please this man.”

Dear Hendrik Potgieter,

I do not know what kind of deal you made with the Zulus. But I now know that many of them are massing in the Free States. The Zulu chiefs that I have discussed with said they’ll be migrating over there, and have no ill intentions, but how can I think otherwise?

For instance, the Natalia Republic is now boxed in with Zulu from the West, Zulu in the North, and Xhosa in the South. Tell me Potgieter, what are your intentions?

Yours sincerely,

Andries Pretorius

Jan clicked his tongue. Right, he forgot about how Pretorius would perceive it. Unlike Potgieter, he did not have a buffer of Tswana elves to protect the Republic. The first ones to be attacked would be Boers, and they’ll have nowhere to flee. The only option was Port Natal, but then, in that event, the Republic would be destroyed.

“You know, there is no way to frame this well. Unless the Tswana are interested in migrating to Natalia to serve as a buffer?”

“Pff… I doubt they would do so. Some of their clans did migrate to that region. But the Zulus make them flee back here or into Botswana.”

“Then the best would be the truth, tell Pretorius that we’re creating a trade route between Potchefstroom and Pietermaritzburg. The Zulus would be facilitators in ensuring the route would be safe. The best reassurance we could give is to offer to sponsor a fort by Van Reenen. The Drakensburg is impossible for the Zulus to get over. And if they do try it like Hannibal, they would take massive losses in attrition.”

Potgieter shook his head.

“That might solve the attack vector from the Free States, but the Zulus won’t be so foolish to attack through there. They won’t be able to use their superior numbers. It’s the Zulu Kingdom in the North. But since you installed Queen Mpande on the throne, I doubt she is unlikely to act. The most worrisome thing is the Zulus using modern weaponry.”

Potgieter paused, thinking about his next words.

“Some Tswana chiefs have scouted the initial battles of subjugation. And the use of artillery and firearms is most distressing. The Tswana chiefs have harangued me endlessly to obtain such weapons. But still, these make up a small number of their forces. Most of it still adopts Shaka’s Buffalo Horns formation.”

“It’s not about the chance, I think. Pretorius just doesn’t like being boxed in. The easy way to remedy this is to either create a buffer or obtain more land,” Jan explained.

“Then you only have three avenues of expansion, Xhosa, Zulu or British. The only one that makes sense is to the South in Xhosa lands. But the bush is hell to fight in. Anyway, the Zulus won’t mind if the Boers settle along the route from Pietermaritzburg to Potchefstroom. If I were them, why would I? It’ll just mean I’ll have to spend less effort to guard the route.”

“In that case, Pretorius won’t be boxed in. And with the Boer settlements along the route, any Zulu attack will allow news to quickly spread to both of our towns. I will help in the event of an elven attack. Like this, it won’t be Pretorius who would be boxed. It would the elves who would be pincered by both of us.”

Jan thought about it. The more he thought about Potgieter’s words, the more it makes sense. At first glance, Pretorius was boxed in. But if the Zulus attack, Potgieter and his Tswana allies could flush them out of the Free States with some of Pretorius’ commandoes attacking from the other side of the Drakensburg mountains. Then they could group up and smash the Zulu Kingdom into pieces.

“The best reassurance would be the fort at Van Reenen. Mind sponsoring some of the cost since you made the Zulus come over here?”

“You were the one who talked me into signing the agreement. Why can’t you sponsor some of the cost?” Potgieter complained.

“I’m not the one who lives by literal gold mines.”

“Eh, you know what. It’s best to discuss this with Pretorius face to face. I’ll be heading to Pietermaritzburg. It’s way too impersonal with a letter. Tell me when you’re leaving, and I’ll join up with my men.”

With nothing much left to do in Potchefstroom, all Jan could do was wait around for the plans he set in motion to take place. He decided to head back to Port Mpande and check the progress of the town.

The only issue he pondered while sitting in the wagon was the payment of his men. They were a little grouchy and wanted some compensation for coming along with him. Cattle or gold. There were only two options for cattle, Zulu or Tswana. Or, to which tribe would he like to die? Then for gold, it was Lobedu dwarves or Zoutpansberg Boers. Again, which faction would he like to die to?

Explaining that to his men was easy, but he hoped to secure some rewards for these men, the farmers who have a frosty relationship with him. He didn’t think they would take credit. Then again, he didn’t think they felt like dying while trying to become rich. So, he dropped the matter and hoped for their understanding. If his plans go well, well he could flood them with gold. No, it was a horrible idea, think about the horrendous inflation that would subsume the town soon after…

Their cavalry force was doubled from 20 horses to 40. Potgieter rode alongside his men. There were some troubles in cooperation between Pietje and Potgieter. But Pietje decided to let Potgieter take the lead. Potgieter was an experienced veteran who bested Mzilikazi, who was Pietje next to him?

With such a famous man alongside his retinue, he decided to let Potgieter take charge. After all, Jan doubted he held much sway amongst his men with Potgieter around. If they gave opposing commands, 10 times out of 10, his men would follow Potgieter’s orders.

The Tswana elves tracked them as they left Potchefstroom. Once they realized it was Potgieter riding off, they left their group unmolested. Past the Tswana buffer, were the new lands ruled by the Zulu. With conflict still ongoing in the bush against the San as well as the lack of announcements by both Potgieter and Pretorius, no one dared to travel along the trail.

A Zulu scouting party spotted the group right as Potgieter’s Flight Commandoes spotted the Zulus as well. The flight commandoes doubled back and looked towards Potgieter for further instructions. He ordered to leave them the Zulus alone. A Zulu left the scouting party whilst the rest followed the wagon watching their every move.

“Since the gold hasn’t been handed over, I suppose Princess what’s-her-name could order them to attack us,” Potgieter rode abreast of Jan’s wagon.

“We got Hendrik Potgieter with us. There is nothing to fear,” Jan smirked.

“Wish I could say the same,” Potgieter broke off from Jan’s wagon as memories of his failures during the conflict against Queen Dingane replayed in his mind.

They travelled for quite some time and took a break for the oxen and horses to rest. The shrubbery around them had Jan worried. It was like a Schrodinger cat. There might be a threat behind that bush or not. And he’ll only know if he looked inside. But he’ll only know at that certain time that bush is safe. Who knew what could come into the bush a few minutes later, making that bush unsafe.

He dispatched the Xhosa servants to scout around the bush since they were more reliable in this sort of affair than the Boers under his command.

It was supposed to be a simple break.

But when the shouts of a Xhosa rang out, he heard the shouts slowly die down. Every man looked towards the bush that Xhosa disappeared in. Next thing they knew, all of the Xhosas started bolting out of the bushes they scouted in.

“San!”, They hollered in their tongue.

The Xhosa he kept his eyes on suddenly had an arrow lodged into his back, and the Xhosa collapsed onto the ground, squirming from the arrow.

It is unlikely a normal arrow could realistically cause a man to squirm this desperately. It must be poison.

“That is some powerful poison, taking effect so quickly,” Potgieter remarked before leaping for cover under the wagons.