PREVIOUSLY...
["However, Menasuca shall not take part in this plan. His identity as a Painalli is far too valuable to jeopardize by revealing it to Nezahualpilli, who is his own father-in-law. We want the King of Texcoco to feel he is dealing with the Suaza Kingdom, not an embedded spy. It is time to remind the Alliance that the 'Thunder' is not our only weapon."
Zasaba nodded, his eyes gleaming with the understanding of one who knew that the espionage network we had built together was about to be tested like never before. The board was set; the war for the Great Quyca would no longer be fought with weapons alone, but with the Shadows I myself had cast upon the world.]
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Year 12 of the SuaChie Calendar, Sixth Month.
Sunrise City (Cuba), Stone Manor.
The morning sun filtered through the slits of the shutters, tracing lines of golden light across the fine cotton sheets. I awoke with renewed spirit, a sense of vitality that only the air of the Floating Islands seemed to bestow upon me, yet my joints protested immediately.
The exhaustion was not merely physical; it was the accumulation of weeks of mounting tension. The constant voyages by sea, the psychological weight of the front lines in Nepantla, and the sheer adrenaline of having infiltrated Mexica territory on horseback had exacted a heavy toll on my body.
"A few weeks..." I murmured to the empty room, rubbing my eyes. "I only need a couple of weeks without anyone loosing an arrow at me or demanding a report on iron production… Nothing dangerous. Just peace."
I made my way to the washroom, observing my reflection in the mirror—one of the few in the entire kingdom. I knew my words were but a fantasy. My role as the spiritual leader and the engine of the Suaza Kingdom allowed for no respite. Obligations were a constant tide that never ebbed; every time I resolved one crisis, the knowledge of my past life warned me of three more looming on the horizon.
I splashed my face with cool water and returned to the room to dress in robes of reinforced linen—comfortable, yet possessing the distinction required by my rank. Upon leaving, I began to walk the corridors of the Stone Mansion.
This palace was a marvel of hybrid architecture I had designed myself: it mirrored the Central Mansion of the Central City (Tunja, Colombia), blending the organic circular forms of our culture with the solid, rectangular structures that guaranteed stability and efficient space—techniques I remembered from the "future."
As I approached my office, I heard familiar voices in one of the second-floor parlors. I paused instinctively. It was them.
"...You will soon turn sixteen, Turey," I heard Umza say, with that overflowing energy that defined her. "You shall be the first."
Feeling a prickle of curiosity, I gave two soft knocks on the door.
"May I enter?" I asked, feigning a tone different from my own.
"Come in!" Umza replied, likely thinking it was a servant with breakfast.
Upon entering, the surprise was general. Umza, ever impulsive, was the first to react. Her face lit up with vibrant emotion and she rushed toward me, enveloping me in an embrace that nearly stole my breath.
"Chuta!" she exclaimed, punctuating her words with light thumps against my chest—a mixture of affection and scolding. "You are so reckless! How could you think of going to such a dangerous place without telling us anything? I nearly died of worry!"
I soothed her by wrapping my arms around her waist and gently patting her hair, savoring the scent of wild flowers that always accompanied her.
"I am here now, Umza. I am safe," I whispered.
Nyia, my introverted fiancée of Tairona origin, approached slowly. In her large, deep eyes, I saw a blend of silent envy and a reticence struggling against her desire to draw near. Her nature did not allow her to throw herself forward like Umza, but her fingers toyed nervously with her manta.
Seeing her hesitate, I extended my free arm and drew her toward us. Nyia froze for a second, startled, but then melted into the collective embrace, hiding her flushing face against my shoulder. I felt her breathing fall into rhythm with mine.
Turey, for her part, observed the scene from her corner with that "eccentric serenity" that made her seem like a creature from another world. Her face remained nearly expressionless, yet her eyes shone with an analytical intensity, as if she were deciphering the very nature of human affection. However, when I beckoned to her, she broke her pose and approached with light, hopping steps—a physical manifestation of the emotion her face refused to betray.
We remained thus for several minutes, basking in a warmth that was not from the sun, but from the family we were building. It was a reminder of why I fought so hard: so that this small nucleus of peace could exist in a world I was making more complex by the day.
Eventually, we parted and sat in the leather and wood armchairs of the parlor. Curiosity got the better of me.
"What were you discussing before I came in?" I asked, leaning back. "You seemed quite serious."
The reaction was instantaneous and varied. Turey kept her gaze fixed on me, hardly blinking, though with an intensity different from before. Nyia, conversely, turned a deep crimson that would have rivaled the sunset; she began to move her hands erratically, staring at the floor as if searching for a tunnel through which to escape.
Umza, of course, did not miss the opportunity. She gave me a mischievous smile—the kind that precedes a storm.
"We were discussing something important, darling," Umza said, savoring my confusion. "We were debating who would be the first to bear our children. And since Turey is turning sixteen soon, we have decided it falls to her, as much as Nyia and I are eager. Isn't that right, Nyia?"
Nyia let out an unintelligible stutter and shot a look of pure malice—or wounded shyness—at Umza.
I, for my part, felt time grind to a halt. The word "children" struck my mind with the force of a cannon blast. Despite my perfect memory, my two lives, and my capacity to plan wars and cities, I was left utterly paralyzed.
The concept of my own biological maturity and the responsibility of a royal lineage was something I had kept in a dark corner of my mind. I do not remember what I stammered afterward, nor how the conversation ended. My brain, that infallible processor, simply decided to shut down for a while.
Two hours later.
I found myself in my office, surrounded by cacao production reports, tax records from Sunrise City, and reports from the Shadows. The papers were before me, but my eyes saw only the void. I was still processing the morning's conversation when a rhythmic knock at the door brought me back to reality.
"Enter," I said, trying to regain my composure.
Zasaba entered with his silent stride and an expression of absolute neutrality. His presence always returned me to the realm of logic and strategy. We greeted each other with the familiarity of years; Zasaba's respect was immovable, yet there was a partner's complicity that only we shared.
"Young Chuta," he began, placing a folder on my desk. "I have come to discuss the final details of the second expedition to the Sunset."
I frowned for a moment, forcing my mind to shift gears. The second expedition. This was not the joint mission with Columbus and the Europeans; this was a purely Suaza operation, one I had meticulously planned after offering that joint expedition to Columbus several months ago.
I remembered the reason for this mission.
The Sunset Ocean (Pacific) was a vast and cruel monster. I knew that the route Columbus and Umzye were following was grueling, and that the waystations (islands) on the Great Quyca side were almost non-existent once you moved away from the coast. If we wanted transoceanic trade to be viable and not a mass suicide, we needed stopovers—at least for ourselves.
We were already developing the Galapagos Islands for the southern routes, but my true objective lay elsewhere. An archipelago I knew from the future, situated in the very heart of the ocean, thousands of kilometers from any continent.
"Hawaii," I whispered, using the name my mind still held.
I estimated the outbound journey could take between three and four months on the direct route. Without those islands as a resupply point, crossing the Sunset would be a game of logistical Russian roulette. We needed Hawaii not only for its strategic value, but as the necessary lung to keep our commercial network from collapsing.
"Zasaba, tell me," I asked, leaning forward. "How is the deployment proceeding?"
"Just as we planned, Young Chuta," Zasaba replied, and for a second, I saw in his eyes that look of profound respect—almost adoration. "The expedition departed two weeks after the first expedition left Sunset Edge City. Following your precise estimates of currents and winds, they will sail north until they reach the latitude you indicated, and then they will turn west, into the heart of the ocean."
Zasaba looked at me as if I had drawn the map of creation itself. It was the same look he gave me years ago when I saved his son using my knowledge of modern medicine. To him, I was not just a ruler; I was someone who could see the invisible—even an island in the middle of the ocean.
"If your calculations are correct—and I have no reason to doubt them," Zasaba continued, "they will find those islands of which you speak. The ships are equipped with improved water purification systems and long-lasting provisions developed by the Department of Innovation."
I nodded, feeling the morning's tension dissolve into the cold satisfaction of strategic planning.
"It is vital, Zasaba. If we fail to find that stopover, the Sunset Ocean will swallow our ambitions before we can connect the world… Umzye and Columbus are opening the door, but we must build the bridge."
Zasaba remained silent for a moment, observing the determination on my face. "The Kingdom is ready, Young Chuta. The vessels advance under your guidance… If all goes as planned, they should be back in little more than a month."
I sat staring at the blank map of the Pacific resting on my desk. Somewhere in that blue immensity, my men sought a dream that only I knew existed. Meanwhile, in the mansion, my fiancées spoke of a future I did not yet dare to imagine. Between the islands we had yet to discover and the children yet to be born, I felt that this year was, truly, the year the world began to shed its skin.
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POV 3rd Person.
Sunset Edge City (San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua), Chibcha Federal Region (Central America).
Year 12 of the SuaChie Calendar, Fourth Month.
The sun beat down fiercely upon the docks of Sunset Edge City, an engineering jewel that stood proudly on the Sunset coast. Unlike the boisterous farewell the Suaza Kingdom had granted Umzye, Christopher Columbus, the other European nobles, and their joint fleet just two weeks prior, the atmosphere today was one of professional and discreet calm.
There were no crowds tossing flowers or brass bands; this was a military mission of the kingdom, a movement of pieces on the world stage that Young Chuta preferred to keep away from the prying eyes of the European spies still haunting the city.
In the harbor, two ships rocked gently on the crystal-clear waters: the Tequendama II, an imposing high-capacity vessel born from the constant improvements in the Suaza shipyards, and the Yaguar.
The Yaguar was the crown jewel of current naval engineering. Based on the schematics Chuta had retrieved from his memory regarding corvettes and light frigates, it was a vessel designed for speed and maneuverability. Only four of its kind existed in the entire Kingdom, and this was the only one operating in the Sunset Ocean.
It represented the culmination of a process that began in Year 4, when the first shipyard on the coast of the Northwest Region (Caribbean coast of Colombia) gave birth to the small Guaraguao. Since then, the Kingdom had scaled its technology in giant leaps, standardizing processes that allowed the Pacific to have its own shipyards capable of producing these beasts of wood, steel, and canvas by Year 9.
Colonel Bachuaga, a steely-eyed veteran who had already crossed the Sunrise Ocean (Atlantic) alongside the legendary Sogeking, observed the loading from the dock. He was a man who did not believe in luck, but in logistics and the divine guidance of Chuta. Before setting foot on the gangway of the Tequendama II, he stopped before a communications soldier.
"Deliver this to General Michuá immediately," Bachuaga ordered, holding out a letter sealed with red wax. "It contains every expected detail of our route, calculated rations, and emergency protocols. If the ocean swallows us, let the Kingdom at least know where we disappeared."
The soldier saluted with respect and trotted away. Bachuaga climbed onto the deck, and the air changed. The silence of the port was replaced by the rhythmic shouts of officers and the creaking of rigging.
"Hoist the sails! Heading north-northwest!" Bachuaga roared.
The anchors were raised, and the two ships glided into the blue immensity, searching for an archipelago that, to the rest of the world, did not exist.
42 days later, Sixth Month of Year 12.
Sunset Ocean.
The horizon, which for over a month had been a monotonous line of infinite blue, suddenly broke. Bachuaga was at the bow, his spyglass held firmly. He was not alone; every man and woman on board, from the youngest sailor to the cook, crowded against the railing.
Before them, emerging from the veils of morning mist, rose the islands. A great landmass to the southeast, with peaks that seemed to touch the clouds, and others smaller, scattered like green pearls across a sapphire carpet.
"The gods..." whispered a sailor beside Bachuaga, falling to his knees.
The awe was not merely for the beauty of the landscape, but for the terrifying precision of their orders. They had departed based on what many called "research assumptions." Officially, Chuta and the Department of Navigation had deduced the existence of these islands by studying currents and comparing the geography of the Sunrise.
But among the crew, another version circulated—one that Bachuaga himself was beginning to believe: that Young Chuta had researched nothing at all, but had simply pointed at the map with the certainty of one who has seen the world from the perspective of a god.
How can a boy know there is land in the middle of this liquid desert? Bachuaga wondered, feeling a shiver that was not caused by the sea breeze. Seeing the islands there, exactly where Chuta said they would be, anchored the faith of the expedition. They no longer felt like lost explorers; they felt like instruments of a higher destiny.
"Prepare the landing boats!" Bachuaga ordered, reclaiming his authority. "Language officer, ready the encounter group! We want no misunderstandings. We come as friends; remember that we are Suaza… Maintain your composure."
One week later, Island of Oahu.
The interior of Chief Manana's house was cool, built with local woods and woven fibers that allowed the breeze to circulate. Bachuaga sat upon a fine mat, across from a man of imposing presence and an easy smile. Manana, chief of the Honolulu tribe on the island of Oahu, as the natives called it, proved to be a far more reasonable host than Bachuaga had expected.
Through a Suaza translator who worked with admirable patience, both exchanged compliments while sharing a banquet of local fruits, fresh fish, and liquors—both those brought by the Suaza and the local varieties. Manana seemed especially fascinated with a chocolate cake the cooks of the Tequendama II had prepared using processed cacao brought from the Kingdom's mainland.
"Your food tastes of fertile earth and sweet sun," Manana said, wiping his lips with delight. "My ancestors spoke of no people who brought such gifts from the horizon."
Bachuaga smiled diplomatically, steering the conversation toward his primary goal. They had already established an initial bond: the Suaza Kingdom had "purchased," under terms of gifts and mutual protection, a small coastal area to build a port of call in what Bachuaga knew would be a vital base. A place Chuta would easily recognize as "Pearl Harbor."
"Chief Manana," Bachuaga said, lowering his tone to indicate importance. "Our ships need a place of eternal rest, a safe harbor so our brothers may trade with your people… We have already spoken with the families of the island of Niʻihau. They are willing to allow our people to settle there amicably, under our laws, yet respecting your sea. We seek your backing as a bridge between us."
Manana, still devouring the last piece of chocolate cake, nodded without a trace of concern. To him, these foreigners were strange, yes, but exceedingly respectful.
They had not arrived demanding riches or war; they had arrived with ceremonies, glass jewels that captured the light in ways never before seen, and most importantly, an almost sacred respect for their gods.
Even your most stiff-necked men, Manana thought with an internal smile, have taken an interest in Kane. If they respect the creator of the waters, they respect our people.
"I have seen your seeds," Manana said through the translator, changing the subject. "My men say some of yours are planting trees that bear those dark fruits. Is it true you will bring more?"
Bachuaga nodded with tempered enthusiasm. Chuta's plan was brilliant: it was not merely a military or diplomatic conquest; it was an agricultural one. By introducing cacao and other high-value crops to the islands, they would create a natural economic dependency and a prosperity that would prevent the locals from seeing the Kingdom as an invader.
"It is so, Great Chief," Bachuaga replied. "Soon, more ships will come. Not ships of war, but ships of construction and trade. They will bring iron tools that do not break, glass for your women, and more of the sweet cacao. Together, we shall make these islands the center of the entire ocean."
Manana let out a laugh that echoed throughout the dwelling. The idea of limitless resources and the end of internal wars over scarcity was a dream he was willing to embrace.
Meanwhile, Bachuaga was no longer in the conversation. His mind flew toward the Yaguar. Tomorrow, the swift vessel would depart for the east (though not directly, for the winds would not allow it). It carried with it the most important news of the year: the Bridge of the Sunset was secured. Hawaii was now the Suaza port at the heart of the world.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
I'll be brief.
First, I apologize for the delay; things came up.
Second, I inserted the third-person general in this chapter to test what was suggested to me: "Work everything chronologically, while also covering all the approaches dynamically."
Although this doesn't strictly adhere to chronology, I needed to add it to give you a more dynamic overview of the expedition without dedicating an entire chapter to it.
Third, I don't know if you noticed that I've been putting current locations in parentheses. Well, I thought it was appropriate for those who want to investigate for themselves whether this author is lying or not. Hahaha
Fourth, I don't know if you noticed, but I wasn't brief. Hahahaha
I might upload an image of Chuta's mansion, or at least one of Central City.
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Read my other novels.
#The Walking Dead: Vision of the Future (Chapter 91)
#The Walking Dead: Emily's Metamorphosis (Chapter 34) (INTERMITTENT)
#The Walking Dead: Patient 0 - Lyra File (Chapter 14) (INTERMITTENT)
You can find them on my profile.]