Xien was a bankrupt farmer from Bavaria. He was supposed to have been assigned to work at the Imperial Manor, but he was tricked into a gambling game and, unable to pay off his debts, had no choice but to board a ship bound for Africa.
Yet this place did not seem as terrifying as he had imagined. It was only that the camp, which resembled a military barracks, made him unable to lift his head.
In the early days of the Austrian Empire's colonies, soldiers made up a considerable proportion of the population, so the architecture also tended toward a military style.
Any ordinary nineteenth-century person would naturally be frightened upon entering a military camp, but once Xien arrived in the fields, he no longer felt so constrained.
He loved the land here. It was far too fertile! It was as though it had not been cultivated for thousands of years!
Not only was it fertile, it stretched as far as the eye could see. Xien could already picture the harvest, himself soaring freely amid waves of golden wheat.
Sergeant Hal stopped Xien, who was running about everywhere, and reminded him.
"Sir, you're here to farm."
"My apologies, sir. I lost my composure."
Without thinking, Xien took off his hat and placed it over his chest. The gesture amused Sergeant Hal.
"There's no need for that. We're not much better off than you. The real big shots are all in the fort, and besides, if we were back home, I'd be the one who ought to salute you. Ha ha!"
Sergeant Hal was not a German, but a Slav. As for exactly which ethnic group he belonged to, even that had become unclear by his grandfather's generation. In any case, his family had fled back with Prince Eugene's forces.