Year 11 of the SuaChie Calendar, fifth month.
Dawn City, Stone Manor.
It is early morning in the manor. The partial silence of the dawn, broken only by the murmur of the cooks and attendants, allows me to organize my thoughts before the city fully awakens. I walk calmly toward one of the multi-purpose halls, but my mind remains anchored to the memory of yesterday.
I recall Turey, sitting in the garden. Her dark, braided hair fell over her shoulders as she stroked Iron Fangs. The little lion, one day to be a formidable killing machine, snuggled against her like a mere kitten.
That image provoked conflicting feelings within me. I know how fierce those predators can be; in my memories of the future, I saw their indomitable strength. But Turey possesses an almost supernatural ability to connect with animal life.
She saw tenderness in a creature destined for the hunt. It was a fascinating equilibrium: the ferocity of tomorrow softened by the innocence of the present, all thanks to her.
Upon entering the great hall, I found my three betrothed exactly where I expected them, immersed in a discussion. I did not wish to interrupt them; their chatter concerning the foreign kingdoms was, in fact, an indirect source of information about their own interests and concerns.
I stayed near the entrance, listening.
Nyia, with her usual shyness, held some canvases that Chewa had sent back from Europa Quyca. She was delighted, though she expressed it more through the softness of her voice than with grandiose gestures.
"Look, the colors… they are not merely pigments, Umza. See how the light plays upon the canvas. They achieve such a 'realistic' representation of the landscapes that I can almost feel the cold of the sea they paint," she said.
Nyia, the artist of the group, was fascinated with the samples of European art. She commented on the difference with the art that had been developing in the Kingdom in recent years, which was more symbolic and abstract. The perspective and detail of the European paintings utterly captivated her.
Umza, ever impatient and outgoing, rolled her eyes, although her smile indicated affection for Nyia's obsession.
"Yes, Nyia, they are very pretty landscapes! But they are just pictures," Umza said in her vibrant voice. "What is truly interesting are their languages. The translators say that Castilian, Portuguese, and English, despite their differences, share common characteristics, almost like relatives who distanced themselves long ago… On the other hand, the tongues of the Guanza Quyca are a treasure. The variety is the most vibrant thing! Each kingdom has such a distinct, exotic musicality. When will we be able to speak with them without having to wait for a translator?"
She, the born linguist, was eager to cross the language barrier, one of the few she had yet to master. The immense phonetic variety of Guanza Quyca contrasted with the relative homogeneity (or at least visible ties) of Europa Quyca, and this enthralled her.
Both were engrossed in discussing their subjects when they heard a murmur from Turey, who often seemed to be daydreaming, even in the middle of a conversation.
"They say they use them for war… and to pull very heavy carts," Turey murmured, with a note of sadness in her voice. "Poor things. Such lovely, gentle horses, suffering for their wars."
Nyia and Umza merely smiled at her comment and attitude; they knew she loved animals with all her heart, but just as they were about to console her, Turey's owl, perched on a nearby beam, let out a short, soft hoot.
Turey lifted her head, her clear eyes fully open. She murmured my name, "Chuta," and turned without hesitation toward the hall's entrance, as if the owl had warned her, she was being observed.
I was discovered. All three rose hurriedly.
Umza was the first to arrive, unabashedly clinging directly to my neck, almost suffocating me with her enthusiasm.
"Chuta! You've been listening! When will we travel across the sea? Can we go to the Guanza Quyca? Promise me we'll go with you so I can learn all those vibrant languages!" She bombarded me with endless questions and statements; her energy knew no bounds.
Nyia approached more calmly, but with no less desire. She gently tugged at my tunic; her gaze fixed on my eyes.
"Chuta… Could you ask Chewa to send me more of those paintings? I would like to study their techniques and understand how they achieve that 'reality' on their canvases. Yes?" Her voice was a soft plea, asking for a treasure.
And Turey, as usual, was tranquil and approached us, and did what she always does; she looked into my distinct eye. The heterochromia in my left eye always drew her attention, a peculiarity that set me apart, and she studied it as if trying to discover some special power emanating from the eye.
"They've grown so much," I thought, calming all three with a soft touch on their shoulders.
More than six years have passed since I met Umza and Nyia, and four since Turey joined us. Throughout all these years, I have striven to improve the quality of life for the people, and this obviously included my betrothed.
I was impressed by how much controlled nutrition and health care could change things. Umza and Nyia, at thirteen, and Turey, at fourteen, were already taller than other young women their age, and with Chuta's development plan, they would continue to grow.
My case was similar. Knowing the dietary, health, and physical precautions I needed to grow as healthy as possible, I had prepared methodically. Thanks to the knowledge from my past life, I had been able to help my parents and later the Kingdom implement a nutritional program that guaranteed the proper development of every child.
Now, I was one of the tallest among my peers of the same age. I surpassed my betrothed in stature and was already nearing 1.5 meters, approaching 1.6 meters in height. If I continued this way, I might reach 1.8 meters, an exaggerated height compared to the average of the era, but a crucial objective for the authority of a leader.
"Calm down, calm down. We don't have to travel yet, but we can use our imagination," I told them, freeing my neck from Umza's affectionate pressure.
I thought about how I could take all their requests and interests and spend valuable time with them. The answer came from Turey and her concern for the horses.
"I will do something," I said. "I will tell you a story from the north of Europa Quyca, a tale of horses and a free man."
I asked an attendant to bring me painting materials. Nyia sat beside me in silence, watching my every movement with the Suaza pigments. I sat on the floor, made myself comfortable, and as I began to trace the first lines on the fine paper that Chewa had acquired through trade, I started to relate a modified version of the film Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, but set within the context of European peoples and their cultures.
"In the vast and green lands of the North, where the trees touch the sky, a wild courser was born, named by his herd 'Soul of the Wind.' His coat was a deep chestnut color, and his spirit was as free as the mountain air."
I recounted his birth, how he grew to become the intelligent and brave leader of his herd. Nyia followed the stroke of my brush attentively, which now drew the horse's proud mane.
Then came the drama.
"But one day, a group of European tamers, men with metal helmets who did not understand freedom, captured him. They took him away and tried to break him with the force of rope and fear. But Soul of the Wind resisted with all his might, his heart pounding like a war drum, refusing to yield his spirit."
While narrating the story, I painted a portrait of the horse, capturing the nobility of the courser that Turey admired.
"And in that camp, the Europeans also held captive a free man, from the northern tribes. A man called the 'Son of the River'," I continued. "This man, who also knew the value of freedom, and the courser, who shared his indomitable spirit, helped each other. Together, they managed to escape oppression."
I told them how the horse and the man lived among the 'Son of the River' tribe in relative freedom, how Soul of the Wind fell in love with a filly named 'Moon Flower' from the tribe, and how he bravely participated in the defense of that tribe against the Europeans.
At key moments in the narrative, when speaking of the Europeans or the free peoples, I would pause and use words and phrases in the Mississippian or Spanish languages as appropriate, with an epic tone. Something Umza seemed to enjoy.
I immediately noticed the excited looks on the three of them.
Umza smiled with delight, noting how I intelligently mixed the foreign language whenever it was appropriate in the story. She leaned forward, trying to grasp the meaning of the words.
Nyia was absorbed, not only by the story, but by gazing intently at the painting of the horse, which I had almost finished while narrating. The realism she admired in European paintings, I replicated in an instant with the strokes I knew from the future.
Turey was fascinated by the perspective of love and loyalty among animals, a story that was not just about suffering, but about deep connection, freedom, and valor.
I felt a pang of relief and a slight guilt. I somewhat regretted having to "copy" stories from the future, but I was glad to have connected with the three of them. The truth is, I felt guilty for spending so little time with them; I was always busy in meetings with Zasaba or reading reports from the kingdom's ministers.
"…And so it was that Soul of the Wind stayed with Moon Flower on the great northern plains, leading his herd alongside the free men of the River," I concluded, setting the brush on the floor.
Silence filled the hall. It was Turey who spoke, her dreamy, soft tone breaking the atmosphere.
"Chuta," Turey asked, looking directly at me. "When… when will we marry like those horses did?"
The question caught me completely by surprise. The wild courser and the filly did not marry; they simply mated. But in her mind, they had both done so, and now she related it to our situation.
Umza let out a gasp of excitement. "Oh, yes, Chuta! Tell us! When will it be?"
Nyia did not speak, but I looked at her and saw the shyness in her eyes. Yet, behind that shyness, there was palpable hope and anticipation. My heart raced. I had avoided that question for years.
The hoot of Turey's owl, along with the unexpected question that echoed in the multi-purpose hall, hung suspended in my mind. The prospect of marriage, though necessary for the Kingdom's stability, had disarmed me, exposing the indecision I still try to hide beneath my façade of immaturity. The reality, however, is that I struggled to imagine myself having three wives.
"Phew… Well, that will be in…"
The next day.
Obligation reasserted itself. The memory of Umza, Nyia, and Turey faded before the urgency of duties. I found myself in my study, rummaging through the mountain of scrolls, report books, and letters.
There were official reports from Chewa, the leader of the FISTC, and secret, codified reports that reached me through Zasaba, the Leader of Shadows, including information sent by Apqua from Link City.
What most captured my attention was the explosive speed of local economic growth in the islands of the Cape Verde archipelago.
Our purchase of one of the islands from the Kingdom of Portugal and the subsequent founding of Link City had not only secured a transoceanic base of operations; it had unleashed a market fever. European merchants, minor nobles with access to ships, and adventurers had hastily established provisional towns and ports on the neighboring islands, even displacing local inhabitants.
An insular market ecosystem quickly formed, with Suaza products as its cornerstone. This was not the direct trade that Chewa had negotiated, which involved the methodical and massive delivery of goods directly to the European ports of Palos, Lisbon, and Bristol.
No. This was a secondary market that fed on the surplus we sent from the Gran Quyca or the products that passed through Link City from the Guanza Quyca. The difference was crucial: direct trade was diplomatic and formal; the insular one was organic and voracious.
I realized that my foresight in constantly sending provisions, seeds, and infrastructure elements had not only made our foreign settlements sustainable but had also indirectly boosted all the insular trade. The frequency of our expeditions, which had gone from monthly to bi-monthly, was the fuel pump that accelerated this economy.
However, a cold knot formed in my chest upon recalling the most recent report: due to an accident suffered by one of our ships, extreme caution had been taken. The expeditions had had to revert to monthly until the entire fleet could undergo thorough hull stability checks.
Another point of great importance that I hoped to resolve was the imminent arrival of the European emissaries to Dawn City. According to Chewa's reports and intelligence information, the envoys included nobles and priests from Spain, Portugal, and England. I was excited, though with a political excitement rather than the one I felt meeting Columbus more than seven months ago—the thrill of seeing my long-term strategy bearing fruit.
I recalled the weeks I had spent trying to create a plan to bring the two "worlds" closer, and simultaneously, to gain total control of the ocean and its routes. I had dreamed of absolute dominion. But the more I studied the projections and my memories of the future, the clearer the conclusion became: I was attempting to control the uncontrollable.
Even in the future, no nation could truly control an entire ocean. In this time, with the limitations of navigation and the immensity of the Gran Quyca, it was simply impossible.
My first option had been simple: that only Suaza ships transport goods and that the Europeans stay on their side of the sea. But it was naive. Sooner or later, with the promise of new lands, they would try to explore on their own. No matter how much I prepared defenses, the impulse of European exploration was a tide impossible to halt.
The second option was to allow them passage, but only through routes controlled by the Suaza Kingdom. This would also fail. Greed and ambition do not respect treaties; non-compliance would only be a matter of time.
Finally, I decided to adopt a position of passive control while establishing myself as the primary actor. We had to let most things run their course, but at a different pace, imposed by us.
We would continue to militarily control large stretches of the Gran Quyca's (America's) eastern coast, the mouths of the main rivers to block penetration into the continent, and, fundamentally, the Suaza Strait in the far south.
At the same time, the Suaza Kingdom had to remain the most reliable and largest source of products the Europeans desired in great quantities (metals, dyes, spices, and foodstuffs) to keep their greed controlled… and directed.
Just as my mind was weighing how in a few decades there would be European colonies in the Gran Quyca territory, however much I wished to avoid it, an attendant knocked on the door.
"Enter," I said, closing the report scroll.
"Young Chuta," the attendant said with a bow, "the European ships will reach Dawn City tomorrow. The Jaguar guiding them has sent word."
I dismissed him and felt a wave of controlled excitement. Tomorrow, the true political negotiations would begin. Although I did not feel the same childlike thrill of my initial encounter with Columbus, this was a more mature excitement: that of a strategist putting his plans to the test.
One month later, sixth month of the SuaChie Calendar, Year 11.
I found myself again in the courtyard of the Stone Manor. I had spent weeks immersed in constant and strenuous exercise. I had discovered that physical exhaustion was strangely liberating and relaxing.
It allowed me to think with a clarity that the adrenaline of an eleven-year-old boy with future memories often clouded. I attributed this behavior to the hormones now surging through my body, a body that was rapidly developing and demanding an outlet.
After a brief rest, I took a cloth to dry myself offered by one of the accompanying attendants, and just as I was taking a drink of natural pineapple juice, two figures dressed in habits approached me.
They were Fray Hernando de Talavera, the Spaniard, and Fray Thomas Wolsey, the Englishman. Both had arrived a month ago with the European emissaries in the first official diplomatic voyage (Columbus's, though important, had been merely exploratory).
They had stayed in Dawn City, traveled to the Great River City of Chesua, and even visited other Taino settlements on nearby islands, including the FRIRS capital, where Foza, the governor, had received them. They had obtained my permission, yes, but they had always gone escorted.
Until now, they had only observed the situation of each settlement, speaking with the people through the Suaza translators. Fortunately for me, they had not stumbled upon anything extreme, nothing that compromised the image of a functional and advanced kingdom. But in recent days, their insistence had grown: they had been asking me for days for permission to openly profess their religion and construct churches.
Initially, I allowed them to travel, thinking they would distance themselves from me and the capital. But upon their return, they had become more insistent. And here they were again, at the manor, to ask for the same thing as always.
I addressed them with courtesy. "Fray Hernando. Fray Wolsey. It is a pleasure to see you so well after your journey through the Kingdom."
They returned the greeting with the same courtesy, seasoned with exaggerated flatteries about the beauty of Dawn City. The whole situation seemed calm, but I was just waiting for them to ask.
Fray Hernando, the Spaniard, was the first. With a voice full of conviction, he repeated his request.
"Young Leader Chuta, we thank you for your courtesy in allowing us to see your vast and advanced civilization," he said with a slightly ironic tone on the word 'advanced,' surely referring to the Taino peoples.
"But, as we have communicated to you, it is our ineluctable mission to share the one and true word of God," he continued. "We formally request permission again to erect places of worship and preach the Holy Doctrine without restriction."
I remained firm, though my tone was calm. I began to explain the Kingdom's position.
"Fray Hernando, Fray Wolsey. You must understand that the Suaza Kingdom does not refuse the knowledge and religions of the people. However, we have a special procedure for the integration of new religions. First, the religions must seek a mutual understanding. Our priests must study the beliefs of the other culture and vice-versa, and then attempt to establish an initial respect before any attempt at conversion."
I paused, my gaze hardening slightly.
"You, however, have been very insistent that your religion is the one and only true one, and that our people's beliefs are, I quote, 'errors that must be eradicated'."
My voice rose, imbued with the authority that my eleven years should not possess.
"Allow me to ask you something, and I want you to answer not as men of faith, but as emissaries of your nations. What would your kingdoms do if our priests, dressed in the Simte attire and armed with the Suaza faith, arrived in Seville or Bristol, and asked you for the same thing? Would you let them build temples? Would you respect them? Or would you act with the caution and the protection of sovereignty that every nation must possess?"
A series of direct, rational questions that left them thoughtful. Fray Hernando fidgeted uncomfortably; his religious fervor seemed to prevent him from seeing the situation from a purely political perspective. His fanaticism, though admirable in its context, was a weakness against Suaza diplomacy.
Fray Wolsey, the Englishman, however, maintained his composure. Clearly, he viewed his request and the response from a political and diplomatic standpoint. He understood the implication of the question: I was not denying their God, I was defending my Kingdom.
I did not wait for an answer; the question was the answer.
I turned, handed the cloth to my attendant, and walked away toward the interior of the manor.
It seems I need to find something besides exercise to calm myself, I thought.
.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
First, I want to apologize for not showing up or letting you know about my absence last week. I had some family issues.
And the truth is, I was going to let you know, but I couldn't guarantee when I'd be back.
Here we have a new chapter, and as promised, we'll start moving the story forward quickly. There will only be pauses in this narrative pace when it's necessary to highlight some important events.
By the way, I included this story and the chill moment with the girls because I noticed that none of them were having a particularly prominent role. The truth is, in a few years, they'll start to play important roles, not only as the mothers of Chuta's children, but also because each of them will act independently in certain areas.
UFD: It's difficult to estimate the number of ships belonging to European kingdoms during these years, but it's known that Spain's naval power, with its large fleets of galleons, was consolidated in the 16th century (such as the Indies Fleet) and the famous Spanish Armada (1588), which was composed of 130-136 ships.
For the novel, I'll use an estimate, but I won't reveal what it is. What I can assure you is that they have more ships (all combined) than the Kingdom of Suaza.
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Read my other novels.
#The Walking Dead: Vision of the Future (Chapter 88)
#The Walking Dead: Emily's Metamorphosis (Chapter 33) (INTERMITTENT)
#The Walking Dead: Patient 0 - Lyra File (Chapter 13) (INTERMITTENT)
You can find them on my profile.]