Disclaimer: This story contains certain language that may be considered offensive to some individuals. This story was written as if it was created many years ago. The use of this language is for that artistic purpose only and not for spreading discrimination or hate. Read at your own risk
Found among the works of Cynemaer Warwick
After the ravaging and pillaging of the continent of Africa by the Europeans, their insatiable and voracious desires led them to other lands of great wealth and treasures. One such land would be called China, a place full of exotic goods and unfathomable riches. Things such as silk, porcelain, spices, and most importantly precious metals and jewels. The allure of these fortunes proved too much for the greedy hearts of the Europeans, and their lust for conquest proved too strong to ignore.
Kristoffer Langer served as a soldier for the Europeans, helping in the exploitation of the locals. He, along with the rest of his fellow soldiers, would slaughter and commit horrific atrocities to the Yellows. They would leave a path of destruction in their wake as they burned and desecrated everything they could find. This would culminate in the siege and occupation of the Shandong Peninsula and the rest of the adjacent sea, by proxy. The rest of the Europeans would come in afterward and subjugate their portions of China, as well as thousands of Chinamen.
One day in Qingdao, Langer was walking down the streets, greeting his fellow soldiers as they passed, until he saw an unusual sight. A man wearing a fine suit talking to some of the passersby who crossed his path. He didn’t look like the local Yellows, for his skin was far too fair. The man looked as though he might have been a mogul or some other wealthy businessman of the kind. The man turned to Langer and walked toward him with his hands deep in his coat pockets.
“Greetings, my friend,” said the man in a deep and gravelly voice, “What brings you here?”
“I was just wandering around, sightseeing and all that. How about you, fine gentleman?”
“The same as you it seems.” The man gave an endearing smile.
“So, are you some kind of businessman?” The man let out a hearty laugh.
“Right you are, good sir.” He gave a waggle of his finger. “I’ve decided to move our services here. I was just at Port Arthur the other day.” Langer cocked his head slightly.
“Really? I assume you’re of some notoriety. What’s your name?”
“Pardon me. I must have forgotten during our conversation.” The man extended his hand. “Siegfried Bloodworth.” Langer firmly grasped his palm.
“Kristoffer Langer,” he said, fully shaking Siegfried’s hand.
“Let me guess, son. You‘re a soldier?” Siegfried inquired.
“Indeed I am,” Langer said with excitement.
“I figured. Those Whites are a ruthless bunch.” Langer let out a hearty laugh in response.
“You know we are,” he said, pridefully.
“I heard the other Europeans are planning their own invasions. May God have mercy on the locals.”
“Damn the locals,” Langer said scoffing, “This land is ours for the taking, and the Yellows can be sent to Hell for all I care.” He puffed out his chest with dignity.
“Is that so? Well, I hope you and your fellow Whites are successful in your endeavors.” Siegfried put his hand back into his pockets and turned to walk away, but before he did, he looked back at Langer and spoke once more. “You know, I may be able to aid your cause.”
“How so?” Langer asked, perplexedly.
“The Europeans could use some of my wealth to fund their campaigns. I am more than wealthy enough to do so. Tell them about me and your vanquishing shall be successful. Deal?”
“Deal,” Langer said, clutching Sigfried’s gloved hand.
“Then farewell, my dear friend. I hope we may meet again one day.”
“As to you, sir.” And with that, Sigefried turned and walked away from Langer, and back to the streets he was previously roaming.
After Langer’s conversion with Sigefried, he would go on to relay his offer to the Europeans which they hastily took. In the following months, the Europeans’ march on China proved to be more successful than anticipated, with its toppling being swift and brutal. Countless Yellows would be massacred, and the land they previously lived would be leveled to the ground. It wouldn’t take long for the Europeans to capture the Chinamen’s capital and to bring them to their knees. Following this, the Whites would plunder anything and everything that had even a modicum of value; their unceasing avarice bearing no bounds. But their cruelty toward the local Yellows was even worse and could only be described as appalling. Their genocidal wrath and obscene conduct was something even the Devil himself would be disgusted by.
The Europeans’ unquenchable thirst for war was, in many ways, resemblant of the Mongols that had come before them. The merciless nomads who raised Hell and decimated the people across Asia. It seems that the Europeans may have learned a thing or two in savagery from their traveling counterparts, or maybe they were just envious, for their occupation was similarly barbaric. Their gluttonous hunger for conquest and territorial expansion would drive their inhuman practices.
As the years passed, things only became worse for China and the Yellows. The Whites, after seizing their desired territories and concessions, would enact a policy of assimilation toward the Yellows, trying to “civilize” them. In reality, their program of integration and conversion was more of, “if you don’t become like us, then you die.” This is exactly what happened, as several Chinamen who refused the Europeans’ demand had them and their families executed or worse. This would be only further exasperated by their harsh retaliation toward the several uprisings and rebellions that would take place during their tyranny over China. Any attempt by the Chinamen to negotiate or work with the Whites would be instantly shot; the Whites were simply too prideful to ever work with what they deemed as a lower class compared to themselves. During this, the Americans would also call out for peace, but they would be written off as nothing more than slothic capitalists, whose tendency for invention was deemed opportunistic.
By the end of their rule, the Whites had extracted most everything that could’ve been desirable to them, and killed millions of Chinamen. Upon leaving, China would be left in tatters and ruin, just as Africa had been following the Europeans’ raiding. China would be nothing, but a husk to fester and die; once the rag that was China was rinsed dry, the White would scurry out and back home to bathe in their newly acquired riches.
Langer would return home to the Fatherland, and be oblivious to the crimes he and his companions had committed. However, his return wouldn’t be ceremonious, as a great fire would tear through his home city. The hellish blaze would engulf the majority of the city and burn it to ash. As Langer stepped out into the burning streets, he would be visited by the man he had seen years prior. Siegfried Bloodworth. Langer would approach him steadfastly.
“Siegfried. What are you doing here?” The man would turn around, and look at Langer with a smile of Chelsea.
“Just enjoying the show.”
“What?” Langer said, confused.
“It’s not everyday you get to see one’s sins materialize into repercussion,” Siegfried said, keeping his devilish grin.
“What are you talking about?” Siegfried turned back to Langer.
“I’m saying, you beasts of hate are finally getting what you deserve,” Siegfried replied, his voice booming and authoritative. Langer stood in pure bewilderment.
“Why you… You have no right—”
“To Hell what you think.” Siegfried stepped over Langer and pointed down at him. “May the Horsemen take no pity on your soul or any other White soul.” Langer fell to the ground in panic.
“Who are you?” Langer asked, terrified.
“I am not for you to know. May death and despair befall upon every one of you vile creatures.” Without saying another word, Siegfried would leave Langer lying on the blackened concrete. Still shocked at what he had just heard and witnessed, Langer would not have time to react to a metal window planter falling on his head.
Just as Siegfried had ushered, the Europeans and their land would be stricken with years of grief and woe, as their great civilization would devolve into chaos and anarchy. And Siegfried would stand idly by in vindication.
