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“People! Folks! Gather around, gather around. No pushing, please.” Brown and Ayomide stood in the middle of a large crowd that had formed in the former dining room of the Algernon mansion.
After the executions and an establishment of temporary order came the time to organize the freemen. Brown’s men had already gained their favor by emancipating them, and they hoped that convincing the newly emancipated wouldn’t be too hard. The former slaves of Algernon sat at the chairs, and on the ground as there were not enough chairs, waiting for the ‘council’ to begin its session.
Brown watched as the last of the men entered the hall. “Alright, I think we’re settled. In the name of our Lord, and our Savior…” He looked around to see if everyone was present “…we hereby declare the Eleventh Session of the Provisional Council of Curry to be in session!”
“…the what?” One of the newly freed men voiced an opinion that mirrored many in the room.
Ayomide was tasked with an explanation that wasn’t too alien, for Brown tended to go on long rants about ‘the Constitution’ and ‘man’s God given right to liberty’ that weren’t too popular. “Basically, instead of getting one leader to decide things for us and order us around, we do things…” What was that word again… “…dehmokraktikellie. Like how they do things in town halls, and…” Ayomide continued on with her explanation on democratic institutions until she felt that the crowd was educated enough. “…so, let us begin.”
There was a murmur travelling among the freemen. It stopped as a young man stepped forward from among them. “Then, I’d like to ask a few questions.”
“That is what you are supposed to do, young man. No need to ask for permission.” Brown was happy to see the glimpses of participation. “What’d your name and question to this council be?”
“Bilal, mister. I work at the copper kilns.” He took his own place at the center to address the crowd more effectively. “I was wondering about the speech your friend gave yesterday, about rising up and whatnot. Are… are we actually going to do something like that?”
“Yes. We’re not stopping until we free everyone or we all die. Ayomide’s statements are not rhetorical.” Brown hesitated not in giving an answer, and the rest of his crew were in various levels of agreement.
Sounds of disbelief came from the crowd. Freeing all the slaves? While they were all locked up in some God-forsaken copper mine in an even more God-forsaken mountain? What were these madmen up to? They had all thought that they’d be making their way toward Zon’guldac by now.
“What’s your plan sir?” It seemed that Bilal had taken the role of acting as a representative. “I think, and the others think, that it’s obvious that we should be making plans for escape, not for stay.”
“I’m not forcing you to stay here. Nobody is. Those who want to leave, can leave. I only ask you to lend me an ear and decide afterwards if you want to do so.” Brown raised his voice. “I believe that, if you were to hear our plans, then you all would be able to make a decision that is beneficial to the commonwealth of the realm.”
“Then let us hear, Mister Brown, your plan.” Bilal crossed his arms, showing that acceptance wouldn’t come easily.
“I’m happy to receive your cynicism, I’d rather have men thinking for themselves rather than those who are left as slave in their way of thought.” Brown clapped his hands. “So, let us begin.” He began circling around the dining table while talking, his hands clasped on his back.
“So, I understand that you might have some concerns. It is only natural to have those when you’re going to face an entire empire. But!” Brown raised his voice “Let me remind you that we’re facing an empire of lords and feuds. I, back in my home, had to face the might of an entire union of states!” Of course, Brown didn’t exactly have the best of knowledge on feudal politics aside from the works of Shakespeare and other great writers. Still, if his assumption that this world would function similarly was correct, then it meant that the empire wasn’t as united as it seemed at first glance. “Our enemy underestimates you, and looks down you as subhuman! Tell me, who will win: a united front of the downtrodden or a disunited front of delusional silver-spoon lords?”
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Brown paused to let the freemen debate each other for a minute or two. The voices seemed only a slight bit more positive; this was a improvement nonetheless. The voices silenced themselves when Bilal raised another objection. “And so? The count or some other lord can still easily extinguish us with their retainers. What do we do about that?”
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Brown wished that he had a map to point to during this presentation, but he didn’t. He did his best by using the cutlery that was on the dining table. He began by placing a large silver cup and a smaller ceramic cup next to each other. “Now, on one side is the might of a lord. On the other is us. Of course, you might think that facing this Goliath requires us to become a goliath of our own. I’d argue the opposite!” He threw a small cloth over the small cup “We are in the mountains, concealed from their sight. They know not exactly where we are, and we can retreat if they do find out.” Such tactics, as Brown had learned from the people of Haiti, would be plenty effective against an empire.
Brown flicked the silver cup with his fingers; he recoiled as his finger hit the hard silver. The cup was knocked backwards, slightly towards the edge of the table. “We can strike, and they’ll know not when, who, or what hit them. The slavers do not slave others just for the fun of it; they slave out of their greed. If we hit them where it hurts, right in the economy, by raiding their estates, their businesses, then their strength will only further dwindle and dwindle while ours only grow with each man we free.” This time he pushed the small ceramic cup to knock the silver cup toward the edge; hurting his poor finger wasn’t worth it to make such a cheesy point.
“What is our end goal then?” Talks of David and Goliath were fine, but Bilal still hadn’t understood what Brown hoped he’d achieve at the end. “Do we create a new country for the slaves? Force the empire to abolish slavery?”
“That is a good question, and I was just about to get to that point, young man.” Brown nodded in approval. “If we force the empire to abolish slavery, then none of our problems will be solved. The ones who had participated and perpetuated that horrible institution would not be punished, in opposite, they’d be the ones in charge of the process for abolition. Tell me, do you think Algernon would have worked honestly to free you, or would he have attempted to find another way to exploit you? The empire cannot and should not be reformed. In its place shall be a republic, for the people, by the people.”
With his coming to the new world came a new political climate for Brown and he had adjusted his plan for abolition to fit it. Back in the United States he had hoped to kill off slavery by freeing the slaves and forcing the federal government to eventually outlaw it. Of course, Gemeinplatz lacked any sort of democratic institutions that’d allow for such a chance, and Brown himself didn’t like the concept of a monarchy or an empire. He was a man of the Constitution through and through, and he wouldn’t be content with abolition.
The above proposal of Brown was quite a provocative one, even for the freemen. Monarchy was the norm; republics were limited to a few city states who, even then, only limited voting to a wealthy stratum. “But, Mister Brown, we’re all poor here. If there’s to be a republic, then none of us could vote.”
“That’s why I propose that everyone, of adult age and sane mind, should vote.” Brown said something that was, according to the people in the room, more otherworldly than himself. “That’s also the key to another question that you’ve asked: whether we should make a state that’s separate to the freed slaves. I believe that such a circumstance would only cause further division and conflict.” He didn’t intend to establish an ethnostate of sorts. “We’d be in constant conflict with whatever remained of the empire. In such a scenario, either all the slaves get massacred or the people of the empire get massacred. Either way ends in massacre, and I hope that you’ll agree that such a thing is a disagreeable outcome.”
Indeed, ‘massacre’ wasn’t exactly a thing that anybody in the room wanted. Still, there was one burning question. “But the lightskins wouldn’t want to join in an uprising of darkskins.”
“That is why, young Bilal, we have to get their support by liberating them too.” He approached Shinasi, the only other man with white skin in the room, and presented him to the audience. “Do you think that the peasants, breaking their backs in the fields, are content with their lords? Would they not join us to overthrow their own masters? Of course, that is not as easy as it sounds. But, if it works…” he, with a swift slap, knocked the silver cup off of the table. It clanged loudly when it hit the floor. “…we’ll have an inextinguishable fire on our hands.”
Brown thought of the white Southern working class, who were about as racist as their upper-class. Being on the lower end of the social ladder ended up making them cling to ideas of racial supremacy with greater zeal than the landowning slavers, just so that they could feel a sense of supremacy. He hadn’t gotten the details on the American Civil War that Jacob had mentioned, but the common sense of warfare dictated that those who had died on the frontlines to preserve slavery must have been the common men of the South who didn’t own any slaves. He was sure that the lords here would attempt a similar thing, and that their subjects would be agitated and levied toward the slaves.
Still, things weren’t too bleak, or Brown thought so anyways. The common man followed their superiors, in this case being the lords. With their lords gone, Brown hoped that the peasants could be educated to see the error of their ways. Perhaps this was idealistic, too idealistic even, but Brown hadn’t gotten this far with pessimism. He wanted to die trying, not live idling, and he was sure that the Almighty would see him through to the bitter or sweet end that He had prepared for him.
The people in the room had stayed quiet since the silver cup dropped. They seemed to be in deep thought; joining such a fight wasn’t a decision to be taken lightly. Fleeing to Zon’guldac was the safer and easier option, joining such a seemingly impossible revolution was risky and hard. However, Brown’s fervor in speech and the way he seemed sure about victory had inspired others in the room.
Perhaps a revolution wasn’t impossible; thinking that it wasn’t impossible was the first step in making it possible. Brown had sowed seeds of doubt, and he hoped that he’d reap a whirlwind of uprising. He ended the silence in the dining hall. “I can see that you all need to have some time to think. Providence guides us in our every step, but our Maker has also given mankind the ability to distinguish, choose and do right… or wrong. Think, debate, decide, and I’m sure that the Holy Spirit will guide you toward the right decision.”
With this, Brown stopped his speech. He’d hear their decision when the council would gather again.