Chapter 199: Payment
"Lord Msiri, this is the payment from our East African government. You may count it," Merck said.
"Mm." Msiri gave a nod, signaling two of his men with a mere glance.
For Msiri, no amount of courtesy matters more than profit. Without further ado, he had his subordinates begin carefully inspecting the munitions provided by East Africa. Two local officials opened each crate and meticulously tallied its contents. Finding even two who could do basic math in the Yeke Kingdom—where hardly anyone had formal education—was truly rare.
Before long…
"Your Majesty, everything's there," the two Yeke Kingdom officials reported.
But Msiri still wasn't completely at ease. He walked to one of the crates, pulled out a musket, examined it closely, then spot-checked a few more boxes.
"Mr. Merck, can I test-fire one?" Msiri asked.
"Certainly. That's your right," Merck replied.
Msiri loaded one of the muskets with practiced ease, aimed at a distant tree, and pulled the trigger. "Bang!" A bullet punched a hole in the trunk.
Finally satisfied, Msiri broke into a smile. "You people are all right. This transaction pleases me."
"Of course. We in the East African government take trustworthiness seriously. We'd never cheat you with junk, my friend," said Merck.
Even as he spoke, Merck thought differently. This batch of muskets was made up of the colony's refurbished castoffs—still functional but subpar. Among East Africa's stock of easily tens of thousands of firearms, the majority were old-model muskets phased out by Europe, and many of them were prone to issues after a few uses. The East African government would then ship these problem guns off to the local arsenal for repairs, then select the worst of the refurbished lot to hand over to Msiri.
"By the way, Lord Msiri, because we in East Africa appreciate your cooperation this time, we've brought some additional gifts," Merck said.
With a gesture, Merck had a few East African soldiers unload three sizable crates from a wagon.
"What's in these?" Msiri asked.
"You can open them."
Msiri eyed the unexpected gifts warily, but made his men open them instead just in case there was a trick. The first crate turned out to be filled with liquor—just five bottles in total, nestled in straw. Msiri's face lit up immediately. He stepped forward, lifted one of the bottles in his hands, and examined it closely.
Glass bottles were a true novelty to Msiri, and the craftsmanship was extraordinarily fine, though he found the shape a bit odd.
"Mr. Merck, is this gemstone bottle filled with water?" Msiri asked.
"It's liquor," Merck corrected him.
"So it must be valuable!" Msiri said, gawking like someone from the backcountry.
Seeing how exquisite the bottle was—and hearing it contained liquor—convinced Msiri that the contents were of the highest order. He had drunk local banana wine in the Yeke Kingdom, but it was cloudy and chock-full of impurities. At a glance, the liquid in these bottles was so clear he had mistaken it for water.
"You're not wrong. See the label on the bottle, showing a man with horses? We call this drink 'the Horseman' where I'm from. It's extremely precious—only a select few in Europe can afford it," Merck said glibly.
"Europe… that's your homeland?"
"Yes."
"So these few must include your king?" Msiri inquired.
"Certainly. And a person of your rank can enjoy it, too," Merck said.
At that, Msiri felt quite gratified. As a king, sharing the same liquor as other monarchs made perfect sense for someone of his station. In truth, Merck was just spinning tales. Msiri, in his mind, was hardly comparable to "civilized" leaders. "The Horseman" was actually the brand name for a cheaply made vodka that sold like crazy among Tsarist Russia's lower-class drinkers, who drove up production to immense levels, making it among the Heixingen Consortium's top-selling spirits. Its low price was its main attraction, which suited East Africa's purpose of gifting it to Msiri.
Msiri was now eager to taste it. He fiddled with the wooden stopper until he pried it loose, raised the bottle to his lips, and took a hearty swig. "Delicious indeed. You East Africans have shown me real sincerity. This friendship, I'll remember!"
"We never hold back when dealing with our friends," Merck replied with a grin.
Having discovered such a fine item in the first crate, Msiri couldn't wait to see the contents of the remaining two. He personally opened the second one while clutching the liquor bottle under his other arm. Inside was a large piece of cloth.
"Mr. Merck, what's this?" he asked.
Merck stepped over, picked up the material, and gave it a shake, revealing a cape made of cotton. Adorned with African-inspired animal designs, it looked gaudy but was still decent workmanship—especially compared to Msiri's own robe, it seemed more refined.
"This is a cape we prepared for you—to better highlight your royal stature," Merck explained.
Msiri took it and inspected it carefully. Though "finely" made, the swirling patterns and bright animal motifs (lions, crocodiles, etc.) were "vivid." "Good, very good. I like this gift," he said, placing the cape back into the crate.
He then moved on to the third crate. The moment he opened it, Msiri had no idea what he was looking at. Alcohol could pass for a bejeweled masterpiece, and a cape was just clothing, but these items defied his experience. He had never seen such things in Africa.
Merck stepped forward. "This is a local specialty of ours, called cigarettes. You smoke them, and they can make you feel quite good."
"How do I smoke them?"
Merck pulled out a pack, tore away the wrapper, took out a cigarette, lit it, and demonstrated. Msiri soon got the hang of it, though he was unconvinced. "I don't feel much from it. It's just smoke!"
"That's normal. The effect doesn't show up right away," Merck said. "Give it some time, and you'll see. Just have one after each meal, and in a few days, you'll appreciate it more."
…
East Africa's gift-giving was hardly altruistic. Both alcohol and tobacco can become addictive; once Msiri's supplies ran out, he would surely contact the East African colony again. And Msiri himself would soon be off to seize new territory, so he'd be able to pillage valuables from other tribes. In exchange, East Africa would supply him more booze and cigarettes.
Moreover, Msiri had cooperated so smoothly with East Africa, handing over most of the Yeke Kingdom's lands and actively driving out the populace to the borders of neighboring tribes, saving East Africa no end of trouble. It was only fair to "reward" him.
Still, Msiri was no fool. After leaving the Yeke Kingdom, he deliberately chose a spot far from the East African border to re-establish his base. Without the promised payment, he likely would have fled even farther. He would continue to rely on East Africa for ammunition, however, so he couldn't sever ties entirely.
Merck and the colony felt no worry about Msiri's new arsenal. The more chaos he stirred in the Zambian region, the better. With so few guns, he posed no threat to East Africa's security. Yet with guns in hand, Msiri certainly wouldn't stay idle—neighboring tribes were in for a rough time. Whoever had the misfortune to encounter him would suffer.
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