How to Survive in the Roanoke Colony

Countless tables and chairs were set up in the center of the village, enough to seat hundreds of people.

And then, they waited.

"A ship... is coming!"

"This year they're arriving right on Christmas? What if they had been late?"

"They said the weather was bad, so let's forgive them."

For the guests coming to Croatoan.

They were people who had made names for themselves by dedicating themselves to the community over the past year.

A Welsh agricultural knight who had just been appointed but had plowed a record amount of fields, and an English priest who had been ordained less than two months after arriving in the community, stepped onto the island.

Visiting the "holy land" for the first time, they shivered slightly and cautiously took their first steps onto the island, as if questioning whether they were worthy to tread upon this place.

Their cautious attitude made the islanders and apostles tense as well.

"Oh, Dad! There are lights on all the trees!"

"Oh... Lord... Is this really a place where people live?"

"Those houses are all so interesting! I've never seen this style before, and the roof colors are really pretty!"

When they sat awkwardly at the tables to enjoy the feast, unable to close their mouths at the splendid sight of Croatoan.

The seat at the head of the table was empty. Its owner was predetermined.

Step.

"Hmm, I've only heard about it. To actually set foot here..."

"How is it, Your Majesty?"

"It's fascinating. Everything is fascinating..."

And the queen sat at his immediate right. There were no guests of higher status than her.

Next to her sat the "apostles," except for Vicente who wasn't present, and the island's residents and other guests sat at the other tables.

The European guests awkwardly took their seats at the guidance of the hosts, most of whom were Americans.

Feeling anxious, they opened the lids of the dishes on the table, wondering if unfamiliar food would appear...

"...Huh?"

"It's normal?"

A feast of chicken, venison, beef, and other meats was laid out.

Although the food had a reddish tint overall, perhaps because the meat was slightly undercooked or of a different breed, it wasn't significantly different from European food.

"On the Lord's birthday, say your prayers and eat! This is a feast prepared for you by the One who is not present!"

At Raleigh's shout, the guests dazedly picked up the food. Watching the American hosts naturally eating, drinking, and chatting, they clumsily followed suit and put the food in their mouths.

Everyone did.

Elizabeth did too.

"...?"

"What's wrong, Your Majesty?"

The queen's eyes widened, cold sweat ran down the back of her neck, and her hands trembled.

The queen almost spat out her food without realizing it. Decades of strictly maintained etiquette prevented a disaster.

What, what is this? What did I... what did I pick up?

Elizabeth steadied her trembling gaze and urgently looked down at the food she had picked up. There was a seemingly normal chicken leg.

It was nothing unusual. Just, slightly red...

"Is it difficult to eat? It's because of the chili..."

"Chi... li?"

"It adds a slightly spicy taste..."

Slight... ly?

"Nemo likes it..."

The angel... likes it?

"Ah, Your Majesty. That dish is chicken rubbed with powder made from smoked and dried chili peppers. The locals all love its distinctive flavor."

There was no chance to feel any distinctive flavor. There was something like hellfire, though.

Anyway, even after Raleigh's explanation from the seat two places away, the queen couldn't feel any distinctive taste or whatever. She only felt pain as if someone was beating her tongue to death.

She couldn't even swallow it.

Because the moment she swallowed, she instinctively felt that her old and tired intestines would collectively go on strike, causing her to suffer for days.

But it was also strange to just keep it in her mouth like this...

"Your Majesty? Are you... finding it difficult to eat?"

The queen tried to answer Margaret that she was fine. But...

"...You seem to be struggling a lot."

"That's understandable. It must be an unfamiliar taste for Your Majesty."

"Wouldn't anyone react that way to an unfamiliar taste?"

Something about everyone's looks...

It's uncomfortable.

She didn't know that the dish she had just eaten was the result of Kin Issei trying to spread chili-based dishes by modifying Cajun chicken recipes.

And when people first ate it and suffered, Kin Issei calmly ate it while subtly showing off his spice tolerance.

Through that spicy training, the taste buds of the Croatoan people drifted somewhere between 21st century Japanese and Americans, becoming addicted to the stimulation.

"Ah... this one's having trouble eating too. Let's keep it to ourselves."

"What a shame... this delicious food..."

"No, no... I can eat... ugh."

And, about the spice pride...

Somehow, the Christmas feast that should have been warm seemed to be heating up in a different way.

Elizabeth, sweating coldly, tried to figure out how to save face while only picking dishes without chili.

"...Ah, even the Queen of England doesn't know."

She turned her head at someone's voice.

"Even for a queen, it must be difficult."

It was Oitotan.

"[Chili-seasoned fried chicken] is difficult for [beginners]."

Feeling somehow angry, the queen swallowed the chicken in her mouth.

For the entire day, it felt like her esophagus was burning.

Anyway.

By the next day, people learned to choose foods without chili, and there were fewer disasters. They exchanged gifts, sang songs, danced, and enjoyed themselves.

Some performed plays, others brought out alcohol they had been saving and drank heavily. Some didn't care about any of that and just ate up the endless stream of exotic dishes.

As time passed, Epiphany came, and around the time the queen fully recovered.

"A ship is coming! It arrived on time!"

"..."

"..."

"..."

Everyone paused and turned their heads. They seemed to know what ship it was.

And after some time, dozens of people walked in and began to sit next to their families and friends. The empty seats at the banquet began to fill, and the atmosphere became lively again.

And.

Someone also sat at the head table.

He spoke.

"Am I... too late?"

Then Eleanor and Hewett, who were next to him, said:

"No. You arrived just in time."

"Here, start with this veal."

And so ended the twentieth Christmas holiday in Croatoan.