As Jan walked down the stairs, he noticed his father's absence. Scrunching his eyebrows, he headed to the porch and found his old man sitting there, smoking on his pipe as usual.
"Goeie more." (Good morning)
The older man nodded in acknowledgement and waved his hands, inviting his son to come closer. Curious, Jan approached, and the man waved his hands over the fields of elves working.
"Are you curious about how I got these elves to submit?" The older man paused, letting Jan's eyes linger around the perimeter. All the workers were dark elves, and some even ordered some about, abusing them to keep them working to the brink of collapse.
Jan paused, wondering what the older man was trying to talk about. He tilted his head to the side.
"The ones barking out orders are treated better than the others. They have their comforts. I give them the right to start families, better beds, and decent food. They must know the language of Elfrikaans, unlike the tribal languages they learnt from birth. They know that they will lose all these privileges if they step out of line. And I am harsh in exacting my punishments."
Jan frowned.
"The rest you see are subservient to these slaves. They are given the bare minimum to survive and must please the other dark elves. These two groups hate each other."
"And they will fight with one another and never turn their eye on the true culprit. You," Jan remarked, and the old man's eyes shone.
"Correct," The old man inhaled his pipe and breathed out a ring of smoke as he turned his head to face Jan.
"But in the worst-case scenario, if things truly go to hell, I have made preparations if such a scenario pans out. As you should know, I am a Veldkornet, and I can call up my fellow men to put down such a revolt."
"So wat probeer jy sê?" (So, what are you trying to say?)
"I want you to join the army under me. I will train you into a proper Veldkornet so you can manage this ward in the future. Who knows, perhaps you might even become a Commando one day."
Perplexed, Jan said, "Verduidelik vir my hoe dit werk?" (Explain to me how it works?")
The older man sighed and began his lengthy explanation, constantly scolding Jan about how he had his head in books all the time and that he knew nothing about the world around him. Jan let those words enter one ear and exit the other.
Each town has a Commando attached to it. Under that commando-general who manages a district, multiple wards are splintered off, each managed by a Veldkornet. Veldkornets handle policing, taxes, firearms issuance, and many other affairs during wartime. Jan's father wanted him to take up such duties, abandon his supposedly Anglophile desires and pursue more worldly matters.
Jan nodded, deciding it couldn't hurt to learn how to shoot better. His father brought him around town, introducing him to the other burghers, landowners, and their families. Most of them greeted father with much pleasantry and spared little for Jan. As he walked about from land to land, he could feel some amenity from them.
His father kept silent, only discussing once they finished their goodwill tour. "You feel that? The difference in treatment between you and me. Do you want to know why?"
Jan kept silent, walking forward blankly, before turning to face his father.
"When others and I were trekking to other unknown lands, you stayed behind like a coward, complaining that you wanted to go to England. And when I stopped paying for your living expenses, you decided to come along like a dog. You needed a whole entourage, so I called up a unit of commandoes and escorted you like some king. Even when we skirmished, you did not contribute to any fights. And hid in your carriage, whimpering like some dog."
His old man scowled before turning away. Such harsh criticism made Jan twist his face. He had nothing to reply to, so he said nothing.
The days went by quickly. In the morning, he would get up and train his marksmanship in the district's shooting range, popping off shots with others. For lunch, he would chat with the other sharpshooters with his weak Elfrikaans. At first, they ignored him, thinking he was a spoiled young master that few should get close to. But as his Elfrikaans improved, words flew out of their mouths rapidly. A simple smile, greeting and sitting close to one another can improve relationships.
He would head back to his room, further his reading of Elfrikaans and Dutch, and spend the whole afternoon there. For Dinner, he returned to the outside world to carouse with others. Usually, some older man or woman would come in and grumble about the drunks before going. Few paid attention. With little close relationships with others, he rarely spent more than a couple of minutes wolfing down his meal before continuing his readings.
People complained of the very same things every day. He used to tune in to their conversations but got sick of the same material in every exchange.
"Hoe gaan dit, reinout?" (How are you, reinout?)
"Ek het nie al my produkte op die mark verkoop nie." (I didn't sell all my produce at the market)
"Hoekom?" (Why?)
"Geen Engelsman by die markte vandag nie." (No Englishman at the markets today)
"Moenie die Engelse handelaars elke Saterdag kom nie?" (Don't the English traders come every Saturday?)
For some reason, people always complained about being unable to sell or buy goods at the markets. But that was not too surprising, he supposed, considering most trekkers were farmers.
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At times, Jan would be inspired by the conversations and write down in a notebook, "Natalia Republic." He hid it beneath a desk, buried under many books, not wanting anyone to get his hands on it. True, he was a powerless man who could do little with his ideas, but he didn't want anyone to find out his thoughts.
A cross was put over the words "French Empire". He instead wrote British Empire. Lines were traced from the empire. "Market Dominance", "Military Dominance", and "Colonial Dominance" were attached to lines stretching out.
The French were an excellent nation to ally with in the future. But the Boers were too dependent on the British now. The best option would be to become a protectorate under the British Empire. That means the British must decide that handing rule over the land to one of the Boers like Praetorius is preferable over direct control.
There were many pros to the decision. Firstly, the Boers are rebels. They do not submit under any government. They will run further inland if annexation is carried out. The lands would be worked better if the British indirectly ruled the Boers. But considering how proud some men were like Jan's father, such submission would be deeply unpopular.
For the road to expansion, Jan intended on forming the Republic of Transvaal and Orange Free State, both inland republics that were formed after the annexation of the Natalia Republic. They were formed due to the exodus of Boers upon British control. As of now, these lands were inhabited by townships created by his fellow Boers. These lands would save the economy due to gold and diamond mines.
But to expand in such projects, there were issues like Natalia's Republic government. Volksraad could pass any legislation, but the executive branch, consisting of the Commandos and Veldkornets, will be the ones enforcing legislation. There is nothing in place to force them to enact such legislation. They acted as mini-warlords which made running the country a complicated process. The only way to effectively govern would be a federation of Boer States, with a strongman leading the charge. And what other strongman could it be different from the man who formed the Natalia Republic, Andries Wilhelmus Jacobus Pretorius? For a group of independents, who else would they instead submit to other than a folk hero of their own?
But how could Jan influence such a great man amongst the Trekkers? He needed first to earn his respect, and as for what military men respected, it was martial achievements.
There was a lot to do. But that could wait, for such things require time.
On this day, Jan laid his eyes upon a Boer caravan. Men on horseback flanked a herd of cattle. This strange sight stood in front of the house. He observed the phenomenon as the man in charge of the district, his father, went ahead to greet the caravan.
His father and the men jabbered, and the cattle were escorted to the ranch on his family's land. The man shook his head as he turned around, his raised eyebrows further wrinkling his forehead. Father looked at Jan, who began to feel nervous from his piercing gaze.
"So… I heard you and Joren had a little excursion. Why did you join him? What changed your mind?" Jan's father asked as he walked closer and closer.
"I thought it would be safe."
"But you were deadweight there, weren't you? If you did, you wouldn't be walking away with only cattle. You might even bag your slaves. But no, Joren decided to be polite and offer us some cattle."
"…"
"You're not a soldier. The gun on your shoulder is only a decoration. You don't know how to shoot. Your mother pampered you too much," The old man frowned and walked away, not wanting to speak further.
That morning, Jan intensified his firearms training. He practised reloading his musket as fast as possible and tried to make as accurate a shot as possible at the shooting range. He could hear the mockery behind his back as he gritted his teeth.
"Daai ou skiet soos 'n kind." (That guy shoots like a kid)
"Ek weet reg." (I know, right)
"Die skoot het die teiken heeltemal gemis." (The shot completely missed the target)
"Daai ou is die seun van die veldkornet, onthou hoe ons hom moes begelei!" (That guy is the son of the veldkornet, remember how we had to escort him)
"Hah, daai ou het in die koets weggekruip toe die elwe aanval!" (Hah, that guy hid in the carriage when the elves attacked)
"Fokken lafaard!" (Fucking coward)
The various men under his father's jurisdiction muttered insults in Elfrikaans behind his back, thinking he was a monolingual, wannabe Englishman who could not speak his people's language.
'They're not wrong,' Jan thought, reloading his musket as he sighed. Pulling the trigger, the shot flew out and struck the outer rim of the target. The man was slightly encouraged by that small victory.
The words behind him stopped. As he reloaded the next round, he increased his concentration to hear what others had to say about him.
"Selfs my ouma kan beter as hy skiet!" (Even my grandmother can shoot better than him!")
"Fok selfs my 3 jarige dogter kan beter as hy skiet!" (Fuck even my 3-year-old daughter can shoot better than him!)
"Watter een?" (Which one?)
"Wat bedoel jy?" (What do you mean?")
"Die meisie wat jy saam met jou vrou gemaak het? Of my suster?" (The girl you made with your wife? Or with my sister?)
"Wag, is dit jou suster? Fok. Moenie vir my vrou sê nie." (Wait, that's your sister? Fuck. Don't tell my wife.)
Sounds of fighting broke out between two men, and men stood in to drag the two from one another. Swears were hurled at one another as Jan sighed.
Father had something to say to Jan as he returned from the shooting range. So, Jan followed him to his study. The older man unfurled a piece of parchment and scribbled circles and crosses on the paper.
He turned to face Jan, asking, "English or Elfrikaans?"
"English, of course."
The older man frowned, mumbling to himself. The young Voortrekker could make out some swear words about England.
"I will talk about tactics. Son, since I'm planning to let you take over my position. You must know military tactics. And for that, I will talk about the most famous recent battle."
"Battle of Blood River?"
"Indeed. Four hundred seventy-five men and I participated in the battle. I was just a lowly trekker. We had 64 wagons and two artillery pieces."
"The Zulus were fighting a civil war between themselves. Princess Mpande sought to oust Queen Dingane, and we supported the former. That Queen broke an agreement with other of us and had them all killed. Men, women and children. She is unfit to rule. Andries Pretorius was the Commander in charge of the operation, and he naturally decided to focus on ousting Queen Dingane. The Zulus might fight with spears and shields, but thousands of them exist. We only have hundreds, but with our guns and artillery. However, we will run out of ammunition first."
"So we decided to head straight for Queen Dingane's residence in UmGungundlovu. However, it is surrounded by hilly and rocky terrain. So it was difficult to launch an attack. However, there is a passageway through a narrow gorge via Italeni," The old man stacked some rocks together to form hills and created a gap between the stones to simulate the battlefield.
"On 9th April 1838, a Flight Commando, basically a group of Boers on horseback, tried to break through Italeni," Father moved a big rock, through the small gap, before continuing," but the defenders repulsed it.
"Some men were demoralized and fled, especially a man called Hendrik Potgieter, and they abandoned all hopes of settling in the Natal. We could not proceed through the gap as we would be ripe for a Zulu ambush. So, we linked our wagons together and turned them into castle walls as we waited," Jan's father left a big rock on the paper and surrounded it with many small stones.
"If we tried to go through the passageway, the Zulu can fight us head-on, neutralizing our advantages with our guns. So, we could not do that. We wanted Zulus to attack our wagon fortress, but they never bought the bait,"
"On 6th December 1838, Praetorius received some intelligence from friendly Zulu chieftesses and proposed a vow to God, in that event we won; we will celebrate the victory. We will even build a church in Natal. In exchange, we gained the ability to fight the magical elves evenly."
Upon hearing his father's words, Jan asked, "What ability?"
"A zone that completely neutralized elven magic."
'Ah… it makes sense how history played out so similarly,' Jan thought.
"We camped by a vertical descent into the river. Our sides were covered with wagons, and our artillery sat close by, ready to fire."
"On the day itself, I was nervous as hell, boy. Seeing the thousands of shields in the distance scared me. We fired volley after volley against the black tidal wave. At some point, I saw the men on horseback riding out to cut down any remaining Zulu. We were running out of ammunition."
"Those dark skin pointy-ears ran for their lives as the horses chased after them. Spears and shields laid on the ground around me as the colour of red splattered the ground…." The older man gripped his heart as the scenes replayed in his mind. He did not even bother moving rocks as he was mesmerized in his thoughts.
"And I tell you, Jan. The reason why I celebrate 16th December every year. Do you know how many of my brothers died in that battle? 0. God was truly on our side. So, what's the moral of the story, Jan?"
"Always stay by defensive position?" Jan proposed, scratching the back of his head.
"Indeed, and that's why I respect Praetorius. I heard that you met the man at the Volksraad. I hope you didn't offend the man by any means. I will skin you alive, boy!"
"Of course not, hah..."