[Earth II] As the Music Swells

[Evangelium]

CHAPTER 1: Which Way Forward?

1824-10-08 13:47 [UTC -03:00]
Imperial Palace, Rio de Janeiro, Empire of Santa Cruz

Walking through the corridors of the palace, his eyes are on anything but where he is going. The simple wooden banister along the second level above and the lye-washed walls on the ground level resemble the government building back home, but the size of the palace alone distracts from the simple yet dignified interior.

“Boy, quit dawdling and keep up,” the man several paces ahead calls out in a stern and hushed voice. Senhor Dias had been on edge all morning. Though he is a Crucian, he has not returned to his native land since departing for Africa over a decade ago. The Governing Council sent him here all the way across the sea to the newly established empire for a singular purpose, and he is not to return home a failure.

“Yes, master,” the young slave responds in his still-deepening voice as he picks up his pace.

As they turn the corner, two men await them in front of a set of double doors, the tops of which are ornately carved. The boy had seen these men earlier in the week at the General Assembly. Another man, dark-skinned like the boy, stands to the side, staring blankly ahead.

“Deputy da Costa, Deputy Araújo, a pleasure to see you again,” Dias greets shaking their hands firmly.

“Likewise, Senhor Dias,” Araújo replies. “Though we couldn’t arrange for you to speak with the Emperor, the Prince Regent can meet with us this afternoon. He has been delegated vicarious powers by His Imperial Majesty.”

Dias tilts his head. “What does that mean, exactly?”

Da Costa responds, “Whatever we decide upon today will be considered binding as though the Emperor himself agreed to it.”

“I see,” Dias says. Araújo nods to the adult slave standing at the door.

He opens the door and announces, “Senhor Pedro da Costa, Deputy of Maranhão; Senhor José Araújo, Deputy of Pará; and Senhor Inácio Dias of the African Confederation.”

The three of them enter the room, and the slave boy instinctively follows Dias. The doorman puts a hand on the boy’s chest to prevent him from proceeding further, moving the boy backward until the door can be closed again.

The boy turns around after the door is shut in his face. Before he can say anything, the doorman says, “That’s not a place for you. You wait out here for Senhor Dias while he conducts his business.”

“Pedrinho! José!” the prince says with outstretched arms. “What sort of mischief are you up to today?” Dias looks on as the three men, all in their mid-to-late-20s, greet each other.

“We have an opportunity to expand our empire,” da Costa says. “This is Senhor Dias from the African Confederation. He has brought a proposal for His Imperial Majesty from across the sea to formally join Santa Cruz.”

“The African Confederation?” the prince asks. “What is it? I’ve never heard of it.”

“It is a collection of several cities on the western coast of Africa that have strong… ‘economic’ ties to Santa Cruz,” Araújo explains.

“Economic ties?” the prince asks sceptically. “You mean slavery?”

“Yes,” de Costa replies. “Your stance on the matter is well known, but the man has travelled all this way. At least give him a hearing.”

The prince turns his gaze to Dias. “Well, why don’t we have a seat, Senhor Dias, and you can tell me all about this novel idea,” he says, motioning to a couch as he himself sits down across from it.

“Your Imperial Highness,” Dias begins, “it is an honour to be able to present this proposal on behalf of the African Confederation. Both of our peoples are at a critical juncture in history, looking for the best way forward. The Governing Council of the Confederation believes that the best way forward for us is to be part of the Empire of Santa Cruz. There continues to be a great demand for labour on these shores, and across the sea, there is a great need for protection from foreign powers.”

“What protection can Santa Cruz offer?” the prince asks. “We have no naval capabilities to fend off aggression on the other side of the Atlantic. Any transoceanic trade thus far has only been possible due, by God’s grace, to the region’s peace.”

“It’s hard to imagine that the Empire would remain without a strong navy indefinitely,” Dias replies. “At least initially, the Empire can assist us in arming ourselves.”

“What is the mind of the General Assembly on this? Assuming it’s capable of discussing anything at all these days,” the prince says sardonically.

“The majority of the assembly is in favour of incorporating the African Confederation into the Empire due to our economic reliance on them,” Araújo says. “However, there is significant hesitation to the notion of providing them the means to defend themselves. But we’re confident this hesitation will not jeopardize the proposal.”

“What is the purpose of bringing this issue to me if a majority has already been secured in the General Assembly for acquiring this territory?” the prince asks.

“We wanted to present the opportunity to speak with someone from the Confederation,” da Costa explains, “in case there might be any questions about this proposal. It would not go over well for the General Assembly to pass it only to have it be vetoed.”

The prince chuckles before saying sarcastically, “Well, how thoughtful.” He takes a deep breath. “I can see those aristocrats salivating at the notion of monopolizing the slave trade from the Confederation. It will most certainly be a major setback to abolition. Tell me, Dias, what do the people want?”

“They are, of course, supportive of the Governing Council’s proposal…” Dias says before the prince cuts him off.

“I mean the Blacks. What do they want?”

“The Blacks?” Dias asks, unsure of what the prince is getting at. “I don’t see the relevance of that to what we’ve proposed.”

“You hadn’t consulted them at all? My understanding is that they aren’t slaves until they’ve been loaded up onto the ships. Prior to that, in the villages, walking down the streets, going to work in the fields, whatever it is they do, surely, they do so as freemen.”

Dias stammers, “Well… I suppose… they just….”

“Didn’t you bring one of them with you? Standing just outside?” Araújo asks.

“My slave boy?” Dias asks with wide eyes. “He’s but a child. He can’t possibly…”

“One is better than none,” the prince says. “Call him in.” Dias glances back and forth between the prince, Araújo, and da Costa. “I won’t ask twice, Senhor Dias.”

Dias smiles awkwardly as he heads to the door and does as he’s commanded. He returns, dragging the boy quickly into the room by the hand. He pushes the reluctant boy towards the prince.

The prince, still seated, motions to the boy to sit next to him. He asks the boy, “What’s your name?”

The boy responds, “Félix, Your Majesty. What’s yours?”

The two deputies hold back laughs as the prince smiles, and Dias looks at the boy in utter mortification. “That’s a great name. My name is Pedro,” the prince says. “Félix, how old are you?”

“I just turned 16 before we got on the ship to come here.”

“Now that you’ve been here for some days, what do you think about Rio?”

“There are a lot of people here… and the buildings are bigger than the ones at home.” He pauses. “Everyone at home says that this is where all the men go when they leave, but I don’t see why they want to come here rather than stay.”

“All right, so maybe you wouldn’t want to live here. But how about being part of one family with us here in Santa Cruz? Even though we would live in different places, we can still be a family. How does that sound?”

Félix twists his mouth as he thinks about the prince’s proposition. “Well, my dad left home for Santa Cruz when I was really little, and we’re still one family even though we live in different places… I guess I always thought of Santa Cruz as just another place where people in our families live for a long time.”

“That’s a good way to look at it; we’ve already been a family for a while. Now, I’m thinking about making it official.”

“Does that mean my dad can come home after we become an official family?”

The prince leans toward Félix. “I can’t make any promises about your dad, but I will do everything I can when I become the Emperor to make sure nobody else’s dads or brothers or sons will ever have to leave their homes to come here ever again.”

“I suppose that sounds okay,” Félix says with a shrug.

The prince stands up and claps his hands together, “Well, the way forward is settled then. José, Pedrinho, if you can get Senhor Dias’s proposal through the General Assembly, you can be assured that it will be promulgated.” He turns to Félix, still seated, and extends his right hand.

The boy looks at the prince’s hand and then at Dias. Dias motions with a slight nod and glances from the boy back to the prince’s outstretched hand while motioning subtly for the boy to stand. Félix puts his right hand into the prince’s, and they shake as the prince says, “Have a safe trip home, Félix. One day, I look forward to visiting your home too, now that we’re one family.”

[Evangelium]

CHAPTER 2: Whose Land?

1823-July-26 13:38 [UTC -04:00]
Palacio Dorado, Cusco City, Province of Peru, United Provinces of South America

“What magnificent preservation of Indian art!” a man says in a loud voice to another standing next to him, having to compete with the reverberations of the conversations of the other 142 people talking in the large, gilded room.

The second man scoffs, looking at the carvings in the glistening gold. “Are Indians capable of creating art?”

From across the room, a booming voice cuts through all the conversations. “Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Shall we begin?” He pauses while all attention focuses on him, and the room becomes silent. “This session of the Junta Grande will now commence. The first order of business is regarding the status of Field Marshal Álvarez.” He glances down at the unrolled piece of paper in his hands. “Whereas he has been serving in the rank of field marshal for three years, and whereas in this capacity, he has led the Armed Forces of the United Provinces of South America to definitively drive out all Mexican troops from Peru, and whereas Mexican troops stationed in Charcas still remain a threat to the State, be it resolved that this body, entrusted with the authority to govern and safeguard the State and its peoples, commissions Santiago Álvarez as the inaugural General of the Army of the United Provinces of South America in order to rout the enemy forces in Charcas.” Looking up, he asks, “Can I get a motion on this resolution?”

A voice cries out, “I move to close debate and hold a vote.”

“Second,” another man says, raising a hand.

The presiding officer continues, “We shall proceed with voting by provincial delegation.”

From one corner of the room, a voice says, “The Chilean delegation votes ‘Yea.’”

From another, “The Rioplatense delegation votes ‘Yea.’”

From the opposite corner, “The Peruvian delegation votes ‘Yea.’”

From the final corner, “The Charcan delegation votes ‘Yea.’”

“With the unanimous consent of the delegations of the Junta Grande,” the presiding officer announces, “the resolution regarding the status of Field Marshal Álvarez passes.” He puts down the paper he is holding and picks up the next one on his podium. “The next order of business is regarding the admission of Ecuador as a new province of the United Provinces of South America. The floor is yielded to Señor Maruri.”

The presiding officer steps aside as another man walks up to the podium, looking out at the faces of total strangers. “Gentlemen, the people of Ecuador have maintained our independence from Mexico for some time. When news reached us of your successful liberation of Peru, we decided that the time had come for us to continue our existence as a member of the pride of our continent: the United Provinces of South America. It is with great pleasure for me to stand before you today with an official request from my people to be part of this next phase of our collective march toward the future.”

Several hands go up throughout the room. The presiding officer acknowledges one from the back left of the room. “The chair recognizes Señor Bezanilla of Chile.”

Bezanilla says to Maruri, “It’s our understanding that a great portion of your territory is yet uncivilized, so you will understand why some of us have strong reservations about admitting Ecuador as a province.”

Maruri replies without hesitation, “I can assure you that the Indian territories in our lands are less than those of Peru and certainly smaller than the combined Indian territories of both Chile and Rio de la Plata.”

Bezanilla laughs. “The ongoing troubles we’ve faced in Chile and Rio de la Plata with the aggression of the Indians is more than enough for us to handle. How can we be assured that admitting more Indians won’t destabilize our nation?”

Maruri says, “Our histories are very different, Señor Bezanilla. The Indians of Ecuador are a peaceful people. They are Christians and regularly engage with us. We’ve never had any suspicion of destabilization.”

The presiding officer acknowledges another hand raised. “The chair recognizes Señor Rodríguez of Rio de la Plata.”

Rodríguez says, “We have a similar kind of Indian as Ecuador in our northern territories. However, like my colleague from Chile, we in Rio de la Plata are also currently contending with savages to our south. They regularly raid our countryside, though they do not commit acts of physical violence toward our people. Clearly, the only way to assure peace among the natives is to civilize them: expand our territories to include them, educate them, and teach them our culture. Does Ecuador have any experience in such an endeavour?”

Maruri closes his eyes for a second at the mere suggestion made before he says, “Señor Rodríguez, we in Ecuador believe that the Indians have a right to make a living on their lands. Yes, they benefit from the work of the Church, but they are otherwise free to live how they’ve always lived. That is how we have kept the peace between our peoples.” The room rumbles with discussion about his comments. Maruri unwittingly touched upon a divisive issue among the delegates.

“That is an outrage!” Bezanilla shouts. “You cannot surely believe this so-called ‘peace’ can last indefinitely. You would be mad to think they will not revolt against you one day!”

The presiding officer yells out, “Order!” The room quiets down. “I remind us all that speaking out of order is not permitted in this body. Because it might be helpful to reduce some tension, I propose we take a break for 15 minutes and then reconvene.”

The room once again erupts into conversations, with several delegates stepping outside. A gentleman approaches Maruri and the Ecuadorian delegation. “Señor Maruri, I am Antonio Cortázar from the Peru delegation.”

“Pleased to meet you, Señor Cortázar,” Maruri says while shaking his hand.

“We’ve long suspected that the Chileans and Rioplatense would not be favourable to Ecuador joining as a fifth province. However, we might have a compromise that would allow Ecuador to join the United Provinces.”

Maruri looks at the others in his delegation. Cortázar continues, “We propose that Ecuador joins the United Province as a comarca of the Province of Peru.”

“What would that mean for us?” Maruri asks.

“Ecuador would be governed by its own council during the transition period as it is integrated into the Peruvian governance system. After that, Ecuadorians would have formal representation in the provincial legislature. Once we set up the United Provinces more formally, there would be no difference for Ecuador whether you join as a province or as part of Peru. In the meantime, my delegation would happily welcome your delegation to join us in future deliberations of the Junta Grande.”

“Give us a few minutes to discuss this new proposal,” Maruri says. He turns to his delegation while Cortázar steps back out of earshot of their deliberations. Several minutes pass before Maruri approaches Cortázar again. “My delegation has agreed to your proposal to join as a comarca of Peru. However, we are deeply troubled by what we’ve discovered to be hostile attitudes in the other provinces towards the Indians and how they organize themselves. We wish to press this issue and come to some sort of mutual understanding in the Junta Grande.”

The presiding officer once again calls the delegates, “Gentlemen! Let us reconvene!” The room falls silent except for the shuffle of feet as the delegates file back into the room. “The matter before us is in regard to Ecuador joining as a province of the United Provinces.” Cortázar raises his hand. “The floor is yielded to Señor Maruri.”

Maruri announces, “The matter has been resolved. The Ecuador delegation has agreed to become part of the Province of Peru.”

The room buzzes with chatter. “Order!” the presiding officer yells above the noise. “Señor Cortázar, as the head of the Peru delegation, do you have any comments on the matter?”

Cortázar says, “The Peru delegation accepts Ecuador joining our province, and effective immediately, their delegates will be added to the official delegation of Peru. Furthermore, we ask that the Junta Grande resolve the status of Indian territory in relation to the United Provinces. Whereas the Indians have lived on said lands for centuries, and whereas those lands have little to no settlements beyond those of the Indians, and whereas the Indians have peacefully coexisted with us, be it resolved that Indian territories shall henceforth be considered autonomous lands within the United Provinces of South America.”

Bezanilla’s hand shoots up. The presiding officer says, “The chair recognizes Señor Bezanilla of Chile.”

“The Chile delegation offers a counterproposal,” Bezanilla says wryly. “Whereas the savages repeatedly violate our settlements, some of which have been established for over two centuries, and whereas the savages are neither civilized nor morally upright, and whereas they show no signs of relenting in their savagery, be it resolved that all provinces exert control over all lands and subdue the savages posthaste.”

Many delegates raise their hands to make a comment. Looking into the crowd, the presiding officer sees a man standing alone at the back of the large room, raising his hand. “The floor is yielded to General Álvarez.”

All the delegates turn around, most surprised that the general was still present. Álvarez says, “Let us be sober, brothers. I know I am not a politician, but perhaps that is why it is obvious to me that neither of these proposals has a chance of passing such a divided assembly. I have, however, fought alongside men who have had their cattle driven off by the Indians and alongside men who themselves are Indian. I also know that if we are to have any chance of routing the remaining Mexican troops in Charcas, we must have one resolve and cannot divide our efforts between ending this war of liberation and conducting military campaigns in unorganized territories. Some of us are focused on the existing peace with some of the Indians by allowing them to live as they have, even if they live within the territory of the United Provinces. Others of us are focused on safeguarding our families and livelihoods from violent Indians by bringing the light of civilization to them, even if it means the land on which they live belongs to them. The Junta Grande ought to consider shelving discussion on who owns what land and find ways for the Indians to adopt our culture even as they continue their way of life.”

The presiding officer asks, “General, do you have a specific proposal for the Junta Grande to deliberate?”

Álvarez responds, “Look at what’s already working in our provinces: we have dozens of padres in remote areas living and working among the Indians. Why not expand that across all unorganized territories in the provinces? Let the Church administer the programs to civilize the Indians; we don’t need to devise a new program if the existing one has been working.”

The presiding officer addresses the delegates, “Is there any discussion on this proposal?”

As if through divine intervention, there is silence throughout the hall.

A hand goes up, and the presiding officer says, “The chair recognizes Señor Alcalá of Charcas.”

Alcalá says, “Seeing as there’s no debate, I propose we take a vote. Whereas we value the peace and security of the livelihoods of both the people of our provinces and the Indians, and whereas we recognize the value of our culture in cultivating such peace, and whereas the work of the Church in the past centuries has civilized the Indians with whom it’s come into contact, be it resolved that this body, without prejudice in favour or against the sovereignty of the unorganized territories, formally tasks the Catholic Church with continuing and expanding its work among the Indians.”

The presiding officer continues, “We shall proceed with voting by provincial delegation.”

From one corner of the room, a voice says, “The Chilean delegation votes ‘Yea.’”

From another, “The Peruvian delegation votes ‘Yea.’”

From the opposite corner, “The Rioplatense delegation votes ‘Yea.’”

From the final corner, “The Charcan delegation votes ‘Yea.’”

“With the unanimous consent of the delegations of the Junta Grande,” the presiding officer announces, “the resolution regarding relations with the Indians passes.”

[Evangelium]

CHAPTER 3: A CRUCIAL MOMENT

1884-04-10 11:21 [UTC -03:00]
Santana Palace, Rio de Janeiro, Empire of Santa Cruz

“This bill is irresponsible!” shouts a senator standing at his seat in the Senate chamber, waving his arms in a fit of rage. “The Chamber [of Deputies] cannot seriously expect to upend our economic system with such simply worded legislation! ‘Slavery in Santa Cruz has been declared extinct as of the date of this law. The provisions to the contrary are repealed.’?”

“I must agree with my colleague: the legislation as worded will not pass out of this house,” another senator adds. “It seems the issues we face are two-fold: the first is how much chaos will sudden abolition wreak on society and the second is how will we address compensation of current slave owners?”

A third senator says, “The political reality is that we cannot send an amended bill back to the Chamber with any sort of compensation for slave owners. They’ll never agree to it…”

The room bursts into a rumble of murmur at the mere suggestion that those deprived of their property should not be compensated.

The presiding officer shouts, “Order! Milords, order, please!” After the room once again returns to silence, he says, “Senator Pereira, please continue.”

Having been involved in the abolition movement for decades, Agostinho Pereira is now the leading voice for abolition in the Imperial Senate. A man in his mid-50s, he has made many connections with churchmen, the nobility, and most importantly, the late Emperor himself. “…It is also true that this body will not support legislation that results in any costs to slave owners beyond the loss of their slaves. To satisfy the wants of both, I propose that in abolishing slavery, slave owners are simultaneously freed from their current legal obligation to provide for the free children born to former slave women.”

Another senator lets out a sarcastic laugh. “That is a given! Slave owners are concerned that their former slaves will want compensation. You’ve seen how these animals have rebelled throughout the empire. They will stop at nothing to get what they degenerately believe to be theirs.”

Before Pereira can respond, another senator interjects, “You’ve mentioned this already, but it truly is the heart of the problem with all this abolition talk: if all these slaves are freed tomorrow, it would cause chaos throughout the empire. Can you imagine if all these rebellions were multiplied and magnified? Have we not already lost enough property and life?”

Pereira replies, “This is where it seems you have confused the cause with the effect. The slave rebellions have occurred because we have failed to act on abolition. They do not rebel for the sake of animalistic rage; they rebel for a reason. Abolition is the only solution to quell the chaos.”

Up in the mezzanine level, men from various senators’ offices and journalists shuffle in their seats and give rise to a hum of whispers. Pereira and the other senators look up to see what the rare commotion is about. A woman, no more than 40, dressed in a white, lace dress appears in the sight of many of the senators on the level below. Some senators gasp at the sight of Her Imperial Majesty the Empress. Her presence, even as an observer of legislative proceedings, breaks with the precedent of not involving the monarch in such matters. She makes her way along the railing and stops in front of a man, who has stood up to surrender his seat in the front row. She smiles and says something to the gentleman, inaudible to the senators below, and sits. Her downward gaze meets Pereira’s, who smiles and nods ever so slightly toward her.

Pereira continues to say, “The truth is most of us here do not oppose abolition. Practically, the number of slaves has dropped by more than half in the past generation, and, as most have discovered, it’s much cheaper to pay labourers than it is to provide for slaves. Whether it’s due to moral or economic principles, we all agree that abolition is the way forward. So what do we need to see in this legislation to get it passed through this house and clear the Chamber again?”

One of the more vocal opponents of the bill stands to address the Senate. “The government must state in no uncertain terms that once freed, former slaves and their children are not entitled to any remuneration, property, land, or other services from the former slave owners. It seems to be the spirit of the text the Chamber has provided for our consideration that abolition means an immediate and lasting severance of any relationship between a slave owner and a freed slave and his descendants.”

An ardent supporter of the bill responds, “We cannot be on record for only supporting abolition due to economic or practical reasons. Abolition is a matter of justice based on moral grounds. The Church has made its stance clear on this matter: a human being is a human being. Our neighbours in Tawantin recognized this and codified it nearly half a century ago! Whatever legislation we pass must also state this fact for posterity.” Many senators applaud this statement, choosing to show their support thusly rather than adding to the grandstanding.

1849-07-14 13:16 [UTC -03:00]
São José do Paraíba, Empire of Santa Cruz

The slaves were scattered throughout the field on this warm winter afternoon. “Zé!” I called out, clutching an open letter in my right hand and looking around above the mature cotton plants. All their heads were below the tree line; it might take a while to find him. “Zé!” I called out again, looking to see if anyone was responding. Suddenly to my left, about 10 metres away, I recognized a familiar face looking back at me.

“Tinho,” he called back to me, “what are you doing out here?”

I turned toward him and tried to get to him, ducking between rows upon rows of cotton plants. The densely planted bushes scratched my arms and hands as I tried to protect my face from suffering the same fate. When I finally reached him, I showed him the letter in my hand, forgetting that he couldn’t read it. “I got in!” I told him.

He looked at me with a slight smile. “I always knew you would. Don’t forget about us when you go to São Paulo and make friends with all those smart college boys.”

“Of course I won’t forget you all; you’re the reason why I’m going.”

Zé shook his head. “You’ve always been the dreamer, Tinho.”

“It will happen! People will see the light; they just need to be shown the way. Look, just a few years ago, the Emperor outlawed the slave trade. That’s something, isn’t it?” Even at my question, he didn’t look up and continued picking the cotton.

He sighed and said, “I dream because I have to. I know that one day, Dono Joaquin will set me free as he did my grandfather. But you can do anything with your life right now, so why do you choose to chase this?”

“Because you’re my friend, Zé. It’s not just for you, it’s for all Blacks. The world is moving on, but Santa Cruz is still blind. Am I supposed to continue ignoring it? Go to college, get married, raise a family, take over my father’s farm? I can’t do that. I can’t stay here in this village when I know that so much more is possible… not just for me, but for Santa Cruz!”

Zé looked at me and said, “Even if it happens one day, you might very well be part of it, but it will be because us Blacks forced it to finally happen.”

1884-04-10 14:59 [UTC -03:00]
Santana Palace, Rio de Janeiro, Empire of Santa Cruz

“There are two bills before us,” the presiding officer announces after the senators had taken a brief recess following a morning of debate. “There is the one concerning the financial considerations of abolition, namely, that abolition means an immediate and lasting severance of any relationship between a slave owner and a freed slave and his descendants. And there is the other concerning the immediate cessation of slave-owning throughout the Empire, namely, the bill provided for our consideration by the Chamber of Deputies. As there was no more debate prior to our recess, we shall now vote on each legislation separately. On the matter of financial considerations of abolition: all in favour say, ‘Aye.’”

“Aye!” the senators yell in unison.

“All who oppose, say, ‘Nay.’”

Silence descends upon the room.

The presiding officer says, “By a unanimous vote, the legislation severing all financial commitments and claims between slave owner and a freed slave passes. On the matter of the immediate abolition of slavery throughout the Empire of Santa Cruz: all in favour say, ‘Aye.’”

“Aye!” the senators shout in unison.

“All who oppose, say, ‘Nay.’”

“Nay!” a lone voice rang out somewhere from the Senate floor.

The presiding officer says, “By a near-unanimous voice vote, the legislation to immediately abolish slavery throughout the Empire passes.

The entire Senate, including those observing the proceedings in the mezzanine, erupts in applause. Mere moments later, the Empress, having descended the steps from her seat up in the mezzanine, enters the Senate floor. Breaking with precedent again, she walks with dignity towards the podium in the middle of the room, bringing herself to the bill instead of waiting for it to be brought to her at the palace. Pereira hands her a pen he purchased on his most recent trip to Europe, which she happily takes and signs at the bottom of the new law: D. Isabella Imperatriz.

Pereira makes his way up to the mezzanine and sees a Black man, also in his early-50s, standing at the seat next to the one the Empress had been sitting in since this morning. Pereira takes out the pen she had just used to sign the legislation and hands it to the Black man, saying to him, “The pen is more powerful than the sword, Zé.”

He looks at Pereira with a slight smile. “And yet without the sword that I and others wielded, would the pen have ever acted?”

[Evangelium]

CHAPTER 4: OUR LAND

1870-09-21 08:39 [UTC -04:00]
Unorganized Indian Territory, Department of Chile, Empire of Tawantin

Having sailed all night from Concepcion, a group of five men made landfall at sunrise, having rowed a small boat from the large ship that brought them this far. One of them was dressed in a grey lounge suit and did not assist the others in rowing. Against the wishes of all his advisors, Emperor Sebastián insisted that he make this trip personally. Waiting for them on the shore at the mouth of the Cautín was a strong, bare-chested Indian warrior, the envoy of the lonko, as promised. The ocean breeze made the narrow red standard emblazoned with an eight-point white star flap atop the wooden staff planted in the earth that the envoy was holding. They set out on foot toward the village of the Mapuche leader, passing by several other Indian villages. Had it not been for the presence of the envoy, the emperor and his men would have already been killed.

It was nearly mid-morning when they arrived, and the envoy motioned for the emperor to enter the lonko’s dwelling. The lonko, a middle-aged man maybe slightly younger than the emperor, sat in a chair at the far end of the one-room ruka. He said in Spanish, “When my envoy informed me that the emperor himself had requested to personally present the terms of peace, I was sure that he had misunderstood. But I see now it was I who misunderstood.”

The emperor responded, “The lonko is a humble man to admit misunderstanding, and it is precisely the avoidance of misunderstanding why we had requested to come personally. When we had instructed the armed forces of Tawantin to inform the Indian peoples of our claim to sovereignty over all lands, it was to be the development of the next stage of our coexistence whereby the reductions would be closed and all would live in one society at last.”

“The emperor will remember that when Tawantin declared its independence from the Empire of Mexico, no formal declaration of sovereignty was ever made over Indians,” the lonko added. “The government decided unilaterally to greatly expand the number of reductions, even into what remained of our homeland. Our response should come then as no surprise when this unilateral claim to sovereignty was made recently.”

“It is also correct to recall that no rejection of sovereignty was ever made either. Alas, neither of us is here to reevaluate the events of history. We look ahead to peace.”

The lonko paused to get the words out, “…yes, unfortunately for my people, as unequal partners. What proposal is for my consideration?”

“The Mapuche, like the other Indians, will renounce exclusive claims to any territory in Tawantin,” the emperor proposed. “In return, they will be entitled to settle in Indian Territory to the east of the Andes as part of the Department of Chile or the Department of Río de la Plata.”

“Settle on the land…” the lonko’s voice trailed off at the thought of leaving for a foreign land. “What assurances do we have that Tawantinians won’t raid our livestock again or steal our crops?”

“Theft or destruction of Indian property or killing an Indian by a citizen of Tawantin will be considered a crime against the Crown. In return, all Indians within the territory of the empire must recognize the monarch of Tawantin as their sovereign.”

“The lonkos will not accept that. We will retain our roles as lonkos as well as our laws and customs, and in return, our people will recognize the monarch of Tawantin as our suzerain.”

The emperor nodded. “That is a fair concession, insofar as your laws and customs do not encourage or promote actions that harm the government or peoples of Tawantin. We are not looking to suppress rebellion indefinitely.”

“Naturally. This just leaves one last point for discussion. As the most recent encounter between our armed forces has shown, the Tawantinians have acquired more sophisticated firearms. The other lonkos wish to discuss the terms for our gradual acquisition of such weapons. Not to be used against the Tawantinians, of course, but against foreign threats that may encroach upon our shores.”

With a half grin, the emperor dismissed the notion. “We will not be re-arming the Mapuche. However, we will see to it that the Imperial Navy is expanded so that it can respond to foreign threats to our land. We’ll even make available our armed forces at the request of the lonkos, so long as it’s not for intra-Indian conflicts.”

The lonko closed his eyes to consider all the terms proposed. He opened his eyes and asked, “What other terms have remained unspoken?”

“None on our part, unless the Mapuche have some?”

“You have the upper hand; you can demand anything, yet you do not subjugate us?”

“As mentioned at the outset, the original intent of invoking sovereignty over these lands was to progress to the next stage of our mutual coexistence. The reductions were always meant to inculcate the Indians with our way of life and agricultural expertise. Once that had been accomplished, the reductions were to cease operations. We had hoped that day had come at last, but when the Mapuche retaliated with violence, it became politically untenable. We have come up with these terms for peace to come as close as we can to the original intent while also making it politically palatable for Tawantinian politicians who want to avenge the loss of our soldiers.”

“Neither of us is a young man,” the lonko pointed out. “I can see that we are both thinking about the future we want to leave behind for our descendants. My people have been resisting yours for 60 years and before you, the Mexicans, and before them, the Incans. I think we’ve forgotten how to make peace. We had no reason to trust any of you to be content with what you had; we always feared you would want more, more, and more!” He paused. “But you… You dared to come in person to forge a peace agreement directly. Know that I admire that. Despite everything I’ve learned telling me the contrary, a faint voice within me says to trust. Perhaps it is time for me to be the one to break this cycle.”

“May the name Shaiweke be remembered as the great lonko of the Mapuche for finally delivering the long-sought peace of his people.”

Lonko Shaiweke stood up and walked to the Emperor. “And may the name Sebastián be remembered as the emperor to once again be known as the Protector of the Indians.”

[Evangelium]

CHAPTER 5: FORWARD TOGETHER

1983-07-04 09:41 [UTC +01:00]
San Martín, Isla Navidad, Province of Biafra, Federal Union of Tawantin

As the rain came down outside his window, Rafael Gómez fixed his tie in the mirror as a piece by Giovanni Gabrieli played over the radio. It was a concerto he knew quite well, and on this momentous occasion, the gentle melody calmed the atmosphere. The door opened slowly as his wife entered the room, dressed to accompany him to a formal function. “Cariño, shall I have the car brought around?”

Rafael, focused on the growing complexity of the instruments sounding from the radio, had to replay in his mind what his wife just asked. “Yes, I’ll be ready in a moment. Thank you.” He turned around and walked to his desk, searching for something that wasn’t there.

A younger man entered, holding up a few sheets of paper. “Señor, the revisions to your speech have been made for you to review in the car.”

Rafael smiled as he walked briskly to the door. “Thank you, Danilo, what would I do without you?” The two exit the room, leaving the door ajar and the radio on.

The car moved smoothly through the streets of the provincial capital. As the journey progressed, the sound of the crowd cheering grew louder. The military escort turned down the pre-determined route to the large plaza in front of the cathedral. The concerto on the car radio kept playing in his mind, even as he got out of the car and was led to the temporary platform set up on the plaza.

Just as the concerto was to reach its climax, the radio broadcaster cut it off and announced, “We interrupt this program with a special announcement from San Martín.”

Rafael waved to the crowd of thousands and said, “My fellow Biafrans!” The crowd cheered before it quieted down. “My fellow Biafrans: over 200 years ago, foreigners reached our land. They settled here and soon imposed their foreign government upon our people. Then they ‘gave’ us to another colonial power as if we were just something they could trade for another thing. 15 years ago, enough of us finally stood up to challenge this injustice. We could no longer ignore the fact that we were being treated as inferior. We decided to chart our own path forward. As we all know too well, these have been a tumultuous and, at times, bitter struggle for our destiny. My mother told me as a child, that, growing up here in Biafra, her mother taught her to know when to speak and when to be silent. This past weekend, my fellow Biafrans, WE DECIDED TO SPEAK!”

The crowd erupted again in thunderous applause and cheers.

“Our provincial legislature put forth the question to us whether we wished to remain part of Tawantin but as a self-governing nation. Millions – both on these islands and on the continent – participated in what was the most significant moment in our people’s history within our lifetimes. Observers from around the world witnessed the voting to ensure that every voter was able to cast their ballot and that every ballot cast was counted, no more, no less. Yesterday, the elections commission verified that a resounding 71% of Biafrans approved remaining part of Tawantin as a newly self-governing nation!”

The relentless rain couldn’t dampen the spirits of the crowd as they heard the good news.

Rafael continued saying, “It is with great pride that I, as your final governor, may bring our decision personally to the King himself. Know that although I will be presenting the results alone, we will all be addressing the King with one voice.”

1983-07-04 15:53 [UTC -04:00]
Olympus Palace, Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Kingdom of Charcas, Federal Union of Tawantin

After winding its way through a forested park in the capital, the car stops in front of a modest villa. It is not what one thinks of when hearing the word “palace,” but then again, it had to be constructed quickly when the people of Santa Cruz evicted the King from Bosco.

Rafael steps out of the car and immediately notices the cooler weather, a welcome change from the constant heat and humidity of his home. He clutches the portfolio containing the most important document his nation has ever produced. A woman comes out of the building, smiles, and says, “Governor Gómez, welcome! Please, right this way,” she says, turning and motioning towards the entrance. “The King will be with you momentarily.”

Inside the drawing room, Rafael stands at the window looking out at the buildings of the city just beyond the field and rows of trees at the edge of the property. He turns suddenly as the door behind him opens. “His Majesty, the King,” the doorman announces. The 60-year-old king walks in, slightly shorter than Rafael. He had seen the King on television before and always assumed him to be taller than he is.

Rafael bows at the neck towards his sovereign, and the King motions towards the table near the window. “Governor Gómez, I hear you bring some important news,” he says coyly as if he had no idea what it was.

Rafael chuckles at his playfulness. He opens the portfolio and lays it on the table facing the King. “Your Majesty, as the Governor of Biafra on behalf of all Biafrans, I hereby request royal assent to the creation of the State of Biafra henceforth to be an independent nation freely associating with the Federal Union of Tawantin.”
The King quickly glances over the text as he readies his pen. “I must say that I am pleased this passed rather than putting forth the other proposals to the electorate.” It’s obvious he preferred this result to total independence. Reformer though he is, even that would have been too hard to sell to the Tawantinians. He whisks his pen across the bottom of the page and hands the open portfolio back to the Governor. In almost an instant, over two centuries of colonial rule was over.

The two men stand in silence as tears well up in Rafael’s eyes. He takes a deep breath. “Sir, as the official representative of the State of Biafra and per the legislation of establishment, I humbly inform Your Majesty of our intention to begin immediately drafting an organic law and resuming normal operations of government.”

The King pats him on the left shoulder. “Very good, Mr. Gómez. Please send my warmest regards to the people of Biafra. Our histories have woven together the stories of many peoples whose voices have not always been heard. But they never ceased singing. Today, the voices of Biafra have finally joined the symphony with those of the indigenous peoples and descendants of slaves. I look forward to what melody we now compose for future generations moving forward together as equals.”

Rafael replies, “Yes, forward together…as equals.”