Sofala, now known as Nova Sofala in Portuguese East Africa was a Portuguese harbour. Settled because of the gold mines, the Portuguese found the gold mines were mostly depleted but kept a hold of the province due to the harbour formed by the previous Kilwa Elfrican Monarch.

The inland of Sofala contains an old settlement by Nxaba, one of the many rivals of Queen Soshangane when she and her followers fled into Mozambique. In the region, being a foreigner to the local Tsonga and Shona elves, she quickly consolidated her rule. She adopted the tactics Shaka used, and with her armies, decimated what resistance the natives could put up. There, she installed herself and her followers as the ruling nobility of the region, whilst the local Chiefdoms became subordinate noble houses. She imposed the Nguni customs on the locals so that she integrates them, making many of them learn Zulu.

Why yes, she was a part of one of the Ndwandwe, a powerful rival Chiefdom to Shaka, that the Zulu subjugated. Shaka even sent some retaliatory raids to punish the Gazas for their insolence, but they beat back any war parties the Zulu Queen sent. Naturally, she is no friend of the Zulu Kingdom, and Jan hoped that was the case if a secret alliance was to be established against the Zulu.

When she entered the Mozambique region, she found that the Portuguese had already settled there. Soshangane and her followers launched numerous raids, extracting tribute whilst establishing her demesne. Soon enough, the Portuguese found the Nguni Queen to be more useful through cooperation than opposition. Soshangane dominated the slave trade in the region and began supplying slaves for Portuguese plantations.

Who were these slaves? They are the local Tsonga and Shona elves who were resistant to her rule. Since they had no intentions of cooperating, then their presence is not needed in her domain.

These were the facts the three Boers quickly picked up. Even the Portuguese Boer was taught some Portuguese so that he could act like his namesake. They built up the plantation the Boers bought and turned it into their headquarters in the region. There, they plotted their next actions concerning diplomatic missions to Soshangane.

“What would the Queen be interested in?” A Boer grumbled, trying to decipher the Portuguese book in his hands. It was something about Portuguese customs that one of the locals handed to the Portuguese Boer. It was ordinarily meant for missionaries to educate their new converts about their ways, but one of them was kind enough to give it to them.

“Honestly, money. But she gets so much money from the slave trade. I don’t know whether we have enough money to get an audience with her.”

A Boer thought of an idea and blurted it out.

“Firearms. Every elf in Elfrica wants it. We could gift them as gifts.”

“It’s illegal to trade in firearms with the elves,” The Portuguese Boer explained.

“Ahh… fok it, it’s not like you’re some saint who follows the rules right? Who gives a fok what the Portuguese think? If we’re caught, we just say we are British citizens. These Portuguese are lapdogs to the British anyway. If their British masters ask them to bark, they will bark.”

The men procured some Portuguese firearms and went to the local marketplace.

“You there, I have gifts for Queen Soshangane,” The Boer produced a firearm, explaining in Portuguese.

The Gaza elf found the all too familiar Portuguese Boer who brought over some friends who could at least speak the language. He looked towards the firearms with disinterest.

“Eh? What a strange elf,” The Boer remarked in English.

“I don’t think they understand the value of firearms. You see, during their conquests in Mozambique, the Portuguese were crushed by Soshangane and her Zulu tactics. Look at the flora around us, perfect elven hunting ground,” Portuguese Boer explained.

“Gift?” The Boer repeated once more in Portuguese.

The elf heaved a sigh and looked around before swiping the gun from the Boer.

“How can I help you? As you can see, I am busy.” The Gaza elf asked in Portuguese while pointing at the various unsold slaves in the market.

“We want to meet with Queen Soshangane.”

“kkkkkkkk” The elf started laughing.

“Unless you’re the King of Portugal or the Queen of Britain, then don’t make such nonsensical requests. It’s difficult for me to also meet with the Queen herself.”

“We have a proposal from a Commando in South Elfrica. It is regarding the Zulu Kingdom.”

“Hand me the proposal, and I’ll hand it to my superiors. It’s going to take a long time if it gets anywhere. So, my recommendation to you all is to buy some slaves and get your plantation up and running, eh? If you buy all the slaves, I can go home earlier and give the proposal to my Chief.”

“Ehhh…. we used up all the money…” The Boers began leaving the marketplace.

The Boers got to work building up the plantation, deciding to grow similar foods like the local plantations, which are mainly maize and cassava. They notice some crops, that looked very much like the ones grown in their Commando’s estate. A certain Bengali from India was cultivating the crops on his behalf.

“Isn’t that opium?” A Boer remarked.

The slave working in the field gave the Boer the stink eye as he continued tilling the soil.

“How you know it’s opium, sir? It’s a little experiment I’m carrying out,” The Portuguese landowner came over and replied in English.

The Boer shrugged, “I randomly guessed.”

The landowner noticed the notorious Portuguese Dutchman along with the other Boers and snorted.

“Well, I was thinking of expanding the opium fields here if the project is successful. The British get to hog up the entire opium trade. But Portugal can play a part in the trade because we have Macau you see.”

“What is Macau?” A Boer asked.

“It’s a trading outpost near China. Very sadly, with the British capture of Hong Kong, its importance has diminished. There’s not much we could do about that,” The landowner sighed.

They made further small talk before bidding the nice landowner goodbye. The slaves in his fields didn’t seem very happy though.

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A Gaza Chief dressed in European wear along with some of her men dressed similarly. Due to British cultural dominance, they wore clothes fashioned after the trends in London. They brought along their spears and shields and were meant to intimidate. None of the other landowners bats an eye at the sight, thinking it was some of the local riffraff that the local missionaries converted. Shouldn’t harm their fellow Catholic Christians. Too bad the Boers were Protestant. Unless they wanted to restart the Thirty Years War, there should be no trouble.

“Heard you were looking up Soshangane, Boer. If you’re going to hand us a proposal, you should hand us one signed by Andries Pretorius of the Natalia Republic, instead of a no-name Commando in the Republic,” The Gaza Chief complained in English.

“Pretorius is a busy man, elf. Anyway, Pretorius should be more than happy to agree with Gaza. After all, we have a common enemy. The Zulus.”

“Heh, you installed your puppet called Mpande on the Zulu throne. Are you sure the Zulus are your enemy? Or is this to lower our guards down so that your Zulu allies could consume Gaza?”

The Boer pointed to his skin.

“My skin is white,” He pointed at the elf’s skin, before continuing, “Your skin is black, like your cousins in the Zulu Kingdom. Do you think the Zulus would cooperate with us? The followers of Shaka would suddenly become peaceful and docile. Funny joke, is it not?”

“Even if Soshangane was willing to hear your proposal out, which I must suggest you obtain written approval from Andries Pretorius, how shall we divvy up the land of the Zulu Kingdom?”

“Depends on how much land you control. Personally, we Boers would rather have lands that have no elves on them. It is much easier to set up farms on lands that no one wants to fight over. Plus, you won’t be the only one we will be entering an agreement with. Have you heard of Queen Mzilikazi of the Matabele? We will be also forming a similar agreement with her.”

“Who hasn’t heard of the upstart who was bested by you Boers as well? I should be relieved that I ran with Soshangane, so I didn’t have to deal with the annoying Boers that would come soon after. That is if she is willing to listen to you all. A triumvirate? From the history of humans that I have studied, I know it will never end well though…”

“Then I suggest not being too reliant on your other allies, and dealing with the Zulus on your border if conflict breaks out.”

The report of the conversation with the Gaza Chief and the three Boers was good enough evidence to be presented to Pretorius. And the man was all too pleased to see such an agreement was already paved for him.

“It is good insurance against a Zulu invasion. But as the Chief said, how would we divvy up the land?”

Jan smirked, “That’s the thing. We won’t be formalizing any agreements to divide the land. It is because we don’t have any intentions of destroying the Zulu Kingdom in the first place. Worst case scenario, we must get into a large fight with those elves. And for sure, we would be the first ones facing the brunt of a Zulu attack. Soshangane and Mzilikazi are relatively far from the Zulu heartland, but we? We’re extremely close. Any assistance provided by the other elves would be little skirmishes and raids on their borders before going back home to enjoy their spoils.”

“Then the agreement is useless?”

“However, the Zulus won’t know this. To them, they’ll think it’s a scary coalition of Boer, Matabele, and Gaza. But if they dig a little deeper, they won’t be able to find the truth. After all, all three of us are either present or future Zulu enemies or rivals. It is more of a scare tactic than anything. And it would improve our relations with the locals, no reason to not do so.”

“Then I see no reason to not sign it. Even if they find out, all the Zulus can do is complain about it. I don’t think they are willing to risk all three of us attacking at once.”

“To the other elves, Shaka might be a warmonger, but she is not stupid, and neither should we expect the same of her relatives.”

The local English pastor, emboldened with the spread of English culture endorsed by the local Commando, was all too happy to give Jan a referral.

“I can provide some missionaries. Queen Mzilikazi is very welcoming of English missionaries. And under their care, you should be fine by linking up with either David Livingstone’s or Robert Moffat’s group. He is a good friend of Mzilikazi. But I must warn you,”

The Anglican pastor, unsure of what to say next.

“What I will say is an account by Robert Moffat. He described the queen as charming, dignified, good-looking, with a ready smile; and added, had he not himself been present at some executions it would have been hard to believe the woman's terrible reputation,”

“No matter what you do in their lands, I urge you to not offend the local Matabele in any way. Because you all are Boers, although I’m sure the Queen won’t be able to tell. There is a reason her reputation is so fearsome, and why every elf that borders her kingdom fears her name.”

“How would my men even approach the queen if she is so scary?” Jan asked.

“It’s not that she would approach you. It is that her Matabele would bring you to her, whether you want it or not. She has ordered her Matabele to bring any white aliens to her and you would be treated as a guest in her court. Hope you enjoy watching the various executions, I suppose I would not know how else a savage would entertain herself.”

“Then, let’s say I want to strike up an agreement with her, and she founds out that my men are Boers. How likely would she execute them?”

“That is hard to say. I would like to say highly unlikely if you’re English. But she is not very forgiving. Ahh, you know what 100% of your men will get executed. I don’t know whether you can make a plea bargain, or if such a concept exists in such a savage’s court. But either way, you’re screwed.”

Jan began pondering about it. He could have the English missionaries serve as his intermediaries with Queen Mzilikazi, at the risk of them knowing about his plans to form a triumvirate. If they did find out, how would they react? Well, firstly, the news would likely be sent to London. But would the home government react?

Better it than risking his men being executed by Queen Mzilikazi. From his prior dealings with elves, he would know how petty they are. Negotiations would be rather difficult since they had to be done through English missionaries who would serve their interest instead of his interests, but it was the safer choice.

Hopefully, the Anglican pastor would put in the good word and the missionaries would help him out instead of focusing on civilizing the elves. And even if Mzilikazi didn’t want to enter the triumvirate, which is highly unlikely considering her geopolitical interests, it was fine. The triumvirate was not a necessity, it was a backup if all diplomatic options failed. Until then, he would ensure the Zulu Kingdom would not have the Boer Republics in their crosshairs.

“Hello, John,” The missionary greeted as they were escorted by various Matabele. The elves held their spears and firearms close by. Firearms? Of course, after that beating Potgieter gave them his firearms, why wouldn’t they want to procure firearms as well?

“Sir, are you sure you won’t help to repair my gun or make bullets?” A Matabele asked in English.

John, Robbert Maffot’s son stationed in Matabeleland shook his head, and the Matabele left the room, grumbling away from the white man’s ears about their stubbornness.

“Seems like a failure. No converts?” The missionary asked, and John could sigh and nodded his head.

“Then why not help them with their firearms and bullets?”

“With their dreadful reputation? Instead of execution via cold steel, we would be seeing men and women being shot dead if we did so.”

“It’s a two-way relationship, John. We provide something, and in return, they will be willing to listen to our sermons and convert to our ways.”

“Religion is not a business transaction. I will not bend my morals just so I could have others listen to the word of God,” John insisted.

“Anyway, I have an agreement from a Boer Commando back in the Natalia Republic. The local Anglican pastor urged me to help him hand the letter over to Mzilikazi. As Robbert Maffot’s son, could you do me a favour and give it to the big woman?”

John took the letter and looked at it. Reading its contents, his eyebrows scrunched up.

“Those Boers… they’re planning on conquering the entire Zulu Kingdom!”

“Looks like it to me, the pastor said otherwise. But would you believe it if you see such a letter being penned by one of their Commandoes? It seems they are not satisfied with the land they seized from Dingane. They want more. And if they fail, they will come crawling over to Port Natal begging for help, endangering the port.”

John sighed, unsure if he should hand it over to Mzilikazi.

“It’s your choice, John. No one can force you to hand over the letter if you don’t want to.”

“Since the pastor from the London Missionary Society sent over this letter, I don’t see why I should not do the man a favour and help out our fellow brother, even if I disagree with the letter’s contents.”

John went to Mzilikazi’s Royal Court. The mighty Bull Elephant of a woman stared down at her numerous Matabele from her throne. Muscular in physique, oozing with ferocity, it was difficult for anyone to approach her. Yet when John showed up, the queen smiled, as she saw her dear friend’s son.

“John, how can I help you?” Queen Mzilikazi asked. No Matabele stopped his approach as he approached the queen and handed her the letter.

“A letter from an associate in South Elfrica.”

Mzilikazi grabbed the letter and scanned its contents, furrowing her eyebrows as she reached line by line.

She smirked once she reached the end.