PREVIOUSLY.
["I should have told him to hold back a little," I thought as I walked with my father, Xiua, and Simte. It took Goca a mere thirty seconds to best me after that, advancing to the finals once more and winning for the second consecutive time.
I exhaled deeply, clearing my mind of those memories.
I could hear the murmurs within the Basilica as we progressed.
Today is a kingdom-wide celebration, a family feast for sharing, held under the gaze of smiling gods.
My life was about to take a new course from this moment on—becoming unpredictable, yet at the same time, brilliant.]
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Year 13 of the SuaChie Calendar, Second Month (April 1495).
Central City (Tunja, Colombia), South-Central Region.
Hall of Rites, Basilica of the Kingdom.
I approached the altar, not allowing myself to linger on any single face, though I felt the weight of every gaze upon me.
There they were, my betrothed and Simte, standing near the altar. My parents; Nyia's parents; Xiua and his wife; and those close to Umza and Turey. From the corner of my eye, I could also discern the Great Men of the kingdom and foreign envoys, all gathered under the same solemn watch of the Basilica; all waiting for me to take the next step, as if the future could not tremble in my hands.
I felt my throat burn at the thought of what was to come—the unknown, the danger, and the way a decision made before the gods could ultimately reach my entire family and, above all, them.
I continued forward regardless, my chest tight and my head filled with an awkward silence I did not know how to break.
I reached the front of the altar and gave a slight nod toward my betrothed. They drew close enough to speak in murmurs, as if the noise of the hall and the eyes now focused on the four of us forced us to hide our voices.
"Everything will be alright, won't it?" I asked them, seeing how their eyes shimmered with restrained emotion, their hands intertwined as if that alone were enough to hold this moment together. Nyia, with courage, speaking for the three of them, replied softly: "With you, always."
In her eyes, I saw something that disarmed me more than any speech: true emotion, barely contained by etiquette and the weight of those present.
I wanted to keep speaking with them, to say something that would bring them peace or show the affection I held for them, but Simte was already behind us, finalizing the last preparations. His prayers floated above our words like a deep, constant thread.
The instruments began to play in the background—or perhaps they had always been there, and I simply hadn't noticed. Simte's prayers rose in a solemn rhythm, enveloping us like incense smoke.
Simte raised his voice, signaling that the ritual of union was reaching its end. He guided us through the ceremony, questioning us one by one with an authority that admitted no doubt.
"Do you accept this union before the gods?" he inquired. They replied with firm, emotional voices, while I nodded and said, "I do."
"I do as well," they added almost in unison, smiles escaping between their words.
The four of us responded, feeling how each answer was another step toward a union that no longer belonged only to us, but also to the gods and all who watched. It was stirring, but I managed to contain my emotions. They, however, could barely hide theirs; I saw it in the way they looked at each other, in how they bit their lips to keep from breaking the gravity of the rite.
Seeing their nervousness and joy, I realized that for the first time in my two lives, I was getting married.
"I hope having three wives doesn't exhaust my luck for my next life," I thought, trying to find some humor to dispel the persistent nerves.
Finally, after some closing prayers and a show of respect to the shrines of the gods within the Basilica, Simte declared the union before the heavens.
The burst of applause enveloped me suddenly, followed by congratulations that echoed through the Basilica as if the entire place breathed a sigh of relief.
Just when I thought all the nervousness would escape through my pores with the end of the ceremony, Umza, Nyia, and Turey looked at me expectantly. At first, I didn't understand why, but noticing Nyia's subtle glance at my lips and Umza's not-so-subtle, tender pout, I realized.
"I shouldn't have told them those princess fairy tales from the future. Now I have to do this in front of everyone," I thought resignedly.
One by one, they stepped forward to seal the commitment with a tender and brief kiss, shared amidst nervous smiles. The applause for this show of intimacy before the masses did not cease for an instant.
"You are ours now," Umza whispered as she brushed my lips, while Turey and Uma waited their turn with expectant eyes.
An hour later, the four of us reached the Central Manor, after the crowd had surrounded us with well-wishes outside the Basilica. We walked among citizens who accompanied us with their support and that warmth that only appears when everyone believes they are witnessing the birth of something important.
As we entered our home, the three of them settled near me, and the weight of the ceremony finally seemed to loosen. Their voices, now free from the pressure of the Basilica, sounded more human, more fragile, more ours.
"The ceremony was incredible! And the people waited all that time outside the Basilica!" Umza said excitedly. "Everyone had smiles on their faces. They were shouting in so many dialects… It was beautiful."
"It was," I commented, exhausted, but with a joyful smile that refused to leave my face, much as I might have tried.
"I loved the music inside and the chanting of the people outside. Besides, the decorations inside the Basilica and in the streets were lovely… It almost seemed livelier than your birthday," Nyia said, surprising us all with her non-stop chatter.
"Of course, that was also very well done… Above all, your paintings on the walls gave it a more divine atmosphere," I remarked, pointing out the one responsible for the primary murals of the Basilica. Nyia smiled at my comment and my appreciation for her art.
"There were no animals," Turey said suddenly, then turned and looked at me, tilting her head. "I thought Iron Teeth and his parents would be at the ceremony. Could you not bring them?"
"Even though I would have liked to have lions at the ceremony too, it was impossible to bring them. It would have been dangerous for the others. Besides, Simte might have taken them as offerings," I replied with as much seriousness as I could muster.
In truth, I would have liked to have the lions there, but both the guards and my family had opposed it. Worst of all, they claimed the lions might lose control, but I was certain that with Turey present, they would have seemed like mere kittens.
The conversation continued with an air very different from before the ceremony. The topics varied: room distribution, celebratory travels, and what we would do in the coming months. Turey even mentioned Iron Teeth again; she wanted him to live with us. Everyone refused, and instead of getting angry with the group, her focus turned to me.
"When will we have children?" Turey asked dreamily, tilting her head.
I stared at her for a moment, not knowing whether to laugh, sigh, or answer with the same tenderness she had used. Finally, I couldn't help myself; I laughed softly and replied, "Soon, when the kingdom allows it."
"We cannot afford to wait long, Chuta," Uma replied with a playful smile.
Year 13 of the SuaChie Calendar, Third Month (May 1495).
Central City (Tunja, Colombia), South-Central Region.
A few weeks later.
Sometime after the ceremony, I found myself on the deck of the Tequendama I, sailing out of the largest port in the Northwest region—the one governed by Nyia's father.
The wind swelled the sails while my wives leaned against the railing, their hair fluttering like banners. The guards scanned the surroundings, the sailors checked knots with precise movements, and the aides loaded the last of the chests.
"Look how the dawn glitters upon the water," I said, pointing toward the horizon where the Sea of Floating Islands (Caribbean Sea) was beginning to wake.
Nyia turned to me, her eyes squinting against the sun, and I spoke to her of her mother's promise to visit us soon in Dawn City, remembering how she had squeezed Nyia's hand during their farewell a couple of days ago.
"Your mother said she would come before the next festival," I remarked, and Nyia smiled, touching the pendant she had been given.
Umza intervened then, leaning over the railing with her brow furrowed by the salty breeze: "And what of crossing the Dawn Ocean as you promised?"
Umza still remembered the promise to cross the ocean and visit Guanza Quyca (Africa) to learn new languages—something I had avoided for some years, but which apparently still lingered in her mind. What surprised me was that the trip could have been aimed at Europe, a much more developed place, but it wasn't.
I hesitated, looking at the waves crashing against the hull, and evaded her with a vague gesture toward the crow's nest: "When the winds are stable."
But she insisted, crossing her arms: "No more excuses, Chuta."
I finally nodded, surrendering to her fixed gaze: "Very well, we shall do it soon."
Turey approached, feeding Shadow, her owl perched on her glove with its feathers ruffled by the wind. She looked at me with that curiosity that always preceded her questions about animals.
"Do you think Sombra will miss the islands?" she asked as the bird pecked at a piece of meat. I crouched beside her, scratching the owl's talons. "I think he misses the Northern Quyca even more. Soon we will go there again and find him a mate."
Turey smiled in response.
My conversations with them were simple, contrasting greatly with my usual dealings with rulers and important figures of the kingdom. But what was truly different was that I now felt a different kind of responsibility.
Just as we had been sailing for a few minutes, already a few hundred meters out to sea, the lookout shouted from atop the mast, his voice cutting through the air like a whistle: "Captain! Young Chuta! Urgent message from the port! A messenger ship is approaching seeking Young Chuta!"
The lookout's cry made everyone freeze on deck. The sails creaked as I raised my hand: "Return to port, now!"
The captain followed my instructions, guiding the sailors to adjust the sails while the helmsman changed course. To the east, I spotted the fast ship cutting through the waves, its oars splashing white foam. The captain ordered the guards to prepare lines, his tension visible in his clenched fists.
Half an hour later, at the bustling pier where gulls shrieked over fishing nets, Zasaba's messenger dismounted panting from his vessel and boarded our ship. His cloak was soaked, and he carried a crumpled parchment in his outstretched fist.
"What message does Zasaba send?" I asked before his clumsy bow. He unfurled the seal with trembling fingers: "The expedition across the Sunset Ocean reached Sunset Edge City in the middle of the second month. The captains have departed for Dawn City to meet with you."
He paused, noting my raised eyebrow in surprise: "They contacted Cipango, Young Chuta, just as you expected. They also found other kingdoms. Furthermore, preliminary reports speak of abundant spoils."
I opened the parchment with anticipation after hearing the message. Zasaba had written in his angular script: "Young Chuta, just as we expected. The world has just changed."
It was all coded messages, but I already understood the meaning. The plans to divert European ambition toward the 'Orient,' as they called it, could begin.
"The Suaza Kingdom will only observe in the early years. Perhaps only with a few friendly settlements that will expand progressively. Then, when the Europeans show their true colors in the Orient… we shall intervene," I thought as I dismissed the messenger and signaled the captain to depart immediately.
My mind began to formulate short, medium, and long-term plans following the news. Although everything was proceeding as planned—perhaps with only a few modifications—some doubts began to settle in my head.
"Perhaps the discovery of the Cape of Good Hope may bring trouble," I thought, looking toward the southeast.
One week later.
After several days of navigation with winds that lashed the sails until dawn, the Tequendama I entered the port of Dawn City (Cuba), and the crowd erupted like a living wave.
It was a multitude composed of those rescued from slavery: Mayans with vibrant feathers raising their arms; Aztecs with ochre faces beating drums; as well as original inhabitants of the islands—Caribs and Tainos with tinkling shells jumping for joy; migrants from other regions of the kingdom; and people of the Misizibii with bone necklaces chanting in hoarse dialects.
Their cheers bounced off the thick air of salt and torch smoke, a fervor that enveloped me as I descended the gangplank. Yet I also noted the quickened pulse in how children climbed shoulders and women waved dyed cloths.
The port seethed as never before: local boats with prows carved into serpents, jaguars, and caimans sat alongside foreign ships with reinforced hulls; merchants shouted offers of spices and metals that floated on a wind heavy with promise.
One of Zasaba's aides cleared a path through the human tide, his urgent gesture cutting through the chaos: "This way, Young Chuta," while guards formed a living wall against the overflowing joy.
My wives and assistants diverted toward the Stone Manor with light steps, Nyia turning one last time with a tired smile, but I followed the aide to the Council House, where the crowd parted like the sea before a prow.
Zasaba waited at the entrance in an impeccable tunic, his straight posture betrayed only by a glint in his eyes. Beside him, Umzye cleaned his saber with an oily rag, the metal gleaming under the sun; Christopher Columbus adjusted his cloak, speckled by the Sunset, with an impatient gesture; James Norrington straightened his hat with the rigidity of a courtier; and Juan Cortizos counted coins in a bursting pouch, his fingers moving as fast as spiders.
Everyone appeared normal, but their exhaustion was evident. Merely comparing the complexions of these men, who had spent nearly a year at sea, with Zasaba's beside them showed a clear contrast. However, from their gazes, I could tell that such effort had been worth it.
We all advanced to the meeting hall of the Council House while the expeditionaries hurriedly spoke to me of their discoveries, but in truth, I only nodded, not yet processing the information.
Zasaba gestured toward the table of spread maps, the air thick with fresh ink and expectation: "They have brought more than gold, Young Chuta."
I looked at him expectantly, clearly showing my desire to know everything.
I pointed to the table. Zasaba read my immediate gesture and raised his hand with silent authority, prompting the aides to rush to arrange carved wooden chairs that scraped against the polished floor and unfurl parchments with fresh wax seals upon the wide oak table.
"Summon everyone for the full session," I ordered with a calm but firm voice, taking my seat at the head of the table. Everyone began to take their positions.
Umzye dragged his chair, his saber scraping metal against wood in a dull echo; Columbus settled in, running his fingers through a beard hardened by Pacific salts; Norrington smoothed the folds of his coat with military precision; and Cortizos tapped the table softly with his rings to catch everyone's ear.
The atmosphere became immediately charged with the pungent scent of damp ink, smoke from extinguished pipes, and the faint marine stench that still emanated from their clothes. I broke the expectant murmur: "Let us begin with what is essential for all: the expedition's human cost."
I looked at them all; each seemed to hold expressions that already heralded the results of the journey.
Umzye began in a measured tone, his eyes fixed on the map: "Our Suaza men returned almost intact, Young Chuta. The strict rationing protocol, the planned nutrition, health checks, and vigilance preserved us. There were only a few sailors with mild illnesses."
"It is good to hear that. I expected no less," I commented with poorly disguised joy.
Norrington drew himself up, nodding with marked respect: "We adhered faithfully to your directives; we were astonished at how your practices of hygiene and navigation prevented the inevitable in hostile seas."
"I am glad to hear that our practices and knowledge aided you," I said with courtesy.
Columbus cleared his throat deeply, his hands restless upon the wood: "We wavered at first due to a lack of planning and resistance to new customs and foods, disregarding some warnings... the initial casualties taught us a hard lesson; now we regret them bitterly."
This time I did not intervene. I could sense the conflict in Columbus's announcement. I also briefly remembered how I had made him a formal offer to settle in the kingdom, which he had politely declined.
Cortizos frowned, his fists clenching until his knuckles cracked: "We were guilty of arrogance, ignoring agreed-upon protocols; we paid dearly, with suppressed rage at our own errors. However, we should have been informed of the dangers beforehand."
"Were you not notified?" I asked, looking at Umzye.
"They were informed, Young Chuta," Umzye replied, then looked at Juan Cortizos. "They were informed before the expedition, at the start of the expedition, and throughout it. They only began to follow our recommendations once some of their sailors grew ill and died."
"But, we…" Cortizos began, but I interrupted him, speaking in fluent Portuguese: "It is well, Senhor Cortizos. I seek no culprits; after all, you are responsible for your own people. What I desire is that no misunderstandings remain."
I turned my gaze to Umzye, pointing at him with a deliberate gesture that made his hilt clink: "As our primary lead, we expected absolute control from you from the dawn of the voyage. Your task was to guide this expedition according to the pact with these kingdoms. You could have taken control of their crew if it were necessary."
He lowered his eyes to the crumpled parchment, his shoulders rigid under the implicit weight, while Zasaba crossed his arms in calculated stillness. The Europeans shifted subtly: Columbus averted his gaze to the floor, Cortizos muttered under his breath, and Norrington raised his chin in a sign of superiority.
"Next time, you shall be the impassable wall," I added in a tone that admitted no reply. Umzye murmured: "So it shall be, Young Chuta, without a single crack."
Zasaba bowed his head in silent approval, easing the palpable tension in their hunched postures.
"This could be a perfect catalyst," I reflected as I absorbed their dejected gestures. "I will leak this knowledge of health and nutrition to their kingdoms, undermining their naval and civil primacy from within. While this will cause their lower classes to flourish more robustly and face fewer problems in future explorations, our kingdom will stand as a benevolent patron before the grateful masses."
The result so far has been as expected. Although what would be discussed in this meeting would only be superficial, if the results of these points were favorable, I could already imagine what Umzye would report in our private audience.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
We're back, and as promised, I won't break my own promises, so let's hope I don't fail again. All I'll say is that the next chapter is ready.
Back to the chapter.
We're returning to a faster pace, focused on dialogue and the narration of important events.
I'll tell you in advance that in the coming years we'll be moving forward with more diplomatic plots, centered on trade and the expansion of the Kingdoms in Asia and Africa. However, I must clarify that there will also be expansion in America, especially in the north, but it will be more controlled and supervised by the Kingdom of Suaza.
The only downside is that the kingdom that will gain these permissions is England. And my question is whether assigning them the same type of colonization will be counterproductive.
Let's remember that the colonization of North America was undoubtedly one of the most brutal. However, this was also due to the colonial and commercial boom of that era.
Now, with the Suaza Kingdom as a guide, things could be very different.
By the way, for those wondering:
Yes, Chuta has already slept with all three of his fiancées. Quite the champ.
But as promised, and also to avoid problems with the app, it will only be mentioned if necessary. And only when the characters are of legal age will I perhaps include 18+ scenes.
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Read my other novels.
#The Walking Dead: Vision of the Future (Chapter 91) (ON HOLD)
#The Walking Dead: Emily's Metamorphosis (Chapter 34) (ON HOLD)
#The Walking Dead: Patient 0 - Lyra File (Chapter 14) (ON HOLD)
You can find them on my profile.]