PREVIOUSLY (Chapter 140)
[Year 12 of the SuaChie Calendar, Seventh Month (October 1494)
Sheen Palace, London, England.
…
Henry nodded, satisfied. He had temporarily cast aside the alliance with Scotland. Why waste time with James IV when he could unite his bloodline with the lords of the future?
"If you can make Chuta see England as its twin in the East," Henry whispered, placing a steady hand on the young man's shoulder. "You will have secured a thousand years of peace and dominion for the Tudors. Go, Edward. Bring us the secret of their longevity and the key to their seas. Let the Spaniards keep their prayers; we shall keep the life and the gold."
As Edward departed, Henry turned his gaze back to the map. His fingers traced the long line from London to Dawn City (Cuba). The world was changing, and he—the King many dismissed as a miserly usurper—was on the verge of becoming the most powerful monarch in Christendom, all thanks to the wisdom of a child living where the sun sets.]
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Year 13 of the SuaChie Calendar, Second Month (April 1495).
Sheen Palace, London, England.
Seven months had passed since Henry VII had dismissed young Edward de Vere with a wager that many in his council deemed, at best, the eccentricity of a parsimonious King and, at worst, a delusion. But this month brought no airs of madness—only the heady, intoxicating scent of prosperity.
From his private study, Henry observed the customs ledgers brought from the realm's ports.
The shift was palpable even in the air he breathed; Sheen Palace now smelled of the pungent dyes of the Maghreb and the musk of distant lands. Thanks to Edward's audacity as England's ambassador to the Suaza Kingdom and the crown's participation in the joint expedition, England was no longer a peripheral island begging for the crumbs of Mediterranean trade and the Northern seas.
Goods brought from the West—chocolate, exotic fruits, and vegetables, alongside Ethiopian jewels and gold transported via Suaza-controlled routes—flowed into London. Yet, most impressive was the geopolitical pivot born of this commerce.
To the north, England had become the hub of a wheel connecting the Kalmar Union (Denmark, Norway, and Sweden), the Grand Duchy of Moscow, and the mighty Jagiellonian Dynasty (Poland, Lithuania, Bohemia, and Hungary).
The trade of grain, furs, and timber across the northern seas was now paid for with coin of such weight and purity that it made the Italian ducats pale in comparison.
"Let the Spaniards keep their prayers and their spice islands," Henry thought with a chilling smile, caressing a ruby of a red so deep it seemed to hold Ethiopian fire. "I am building an empire of iron, gold, and silk in the backyard of Christendom."
The monarch left his study and walked the corridors of Sheen. The palace vibrated with an unusual energy. Servants hurried past bearing silver trays and fine linens, reflecting their master's buoyant mood.
Upon reaching the Great Hall, the murmurs of nobles and advisors ceased for an instant, replaced by the soft clinking of goblets and the sweet aroma of honey cakes served to ease the wait.
Henry entered with the firm step of a man who knows himself to be the master of destiny. He offered a nod, barely perceptible yet heavy with majesty, as he took his place at the head of the oak table. The nobles, from the northern barons to the most influential bishops, settled in with a rustle of velvet.
"My lords," Henry said, gesturing for the servants to withdraw after leaving the final carafes of wine. "The Earl of Oxford bears news that will make this wine taste like rainwater."
John de Vere stood, a mixture of paternal pride and political gravity etched upon his face. He held a letter whose wax seal bore the De Vere emblem, though the paper had a strange texture—sturdier and smoother than any European parchment.
"My son, Edward, writes from the heart of the Suaza Kingdom," John announced, and the hall fell into a deathly silence. "Through his close bond with their young leader, Chuta, he has been invited to the capital. Edward is the first noble of our blood—perhaps the first European—to set foot in that place."
An electric murmur rippled through the table. Henry leaned forward; his fingers interlaced beneath his chin.
"Proceed, John. What does the boy say of this... 'Central City'?"
"It is not a city, Your Majesty. It is a wonder," John replied, reading directly from the report. "Edward describes it as a cyclopean settlement embedded in the clouds, high atop the mountains. He says the buildings and palaces do not dominate nature, but grow with it, integrated into stone and greenery in a way that seems the work of gods, not men. He swears that trade there seethes with an intensity twenty times that of Antwerp or London. It is a center where knowledge and wealth fuse into a culture we can scarcely begin to comprehend."
"And its people, Lord Oxford?" a counselor interrupted skeptically. "Are they a rabble or an army?"
Henry raised a hand for silence, pinning his eyes on John.
"That is the key question. How many souls guard those mountains? What defenses did your son witness?"
"Edward was informed by local officials of some one hundred and eighty thousand souls in the capital alone," John said, and this time the outburst of astonishment was universal. London barely reached half that number. "However, he suspects the censuses are conservative. He saw districts that vanish into the side valleys. As for the military..."
John paused, looking at Henry.
"He saw no traditional fortifications, Your Majesty. But Edward writes they have no need of them. The city sits so high, and the paths are so narrow and controlled, that any invading army would perish of exhaustion or thin air before ever laying eyes upon the main gates. They are, by geography and technique, impregnable."
Henry leaned back in his chair, his heart racing. The world was not only larger; it was far more powerful than the Pope or the Catholic Monarchs suspected.
"One hundred and eighty thousand..." the King whispered to himself. "If Edward secures Margaret's seat on a throne beside such power, England will not merely be a northern power. It will be the bridge to a new age."
The silence following the mention of the vast population and their mountain city was dense, almost tangible. The nobles exchanged looks of wonder and greed, mentally calculating the resources or gold bullion such a population represented. However, in a corner of the table, the scrape of a heavy gold cross against a silk breastplate broke the spell.
The Bishop of Winchester, a man of sharp features and eyes that seemed to perpetually judge the souls of others, cleared his throat. The sound was small, but it cut through the atmosphere like a knife.
"Lord Oxford," the prelate began, with a softness that dripped venom, "you paint us a picture of marvels that would make Rome herself pale. But there is a detail your letter seems to omit—or perhaps, bury beneath mountains of 'gold.' It is rumored in the ports, and whispered in the confessionals, that those people across the ocean know not the Cross. Is it true that this kingdom surrenders itself to the aberration of polytheism?"
The tone of the room shifted instantly. Greed recoiled a step before the fear of ecclesiastical judgment. John de Vere kept his gaze steady, but his fingers tightened subtly against the edge of the table. He maintained a strategic silence, weighing his words, which only fed the unease of those present.
Henry VII, sensing his court's resolve beginning to falter under the weight of orthodoxy, decided to intervene before the fires of faith burned his commercial bridges.
"Let us not deceive ourselves, my lords," the King said, his voice ringing with icy authority. "As has been known since the first reports of the Suaza touched our shores nearly three years ago, they do not walk the path of Christ. They are, for now, far from the light of the true faith."
He paused deliberately, allowing the weight of his statement to settle, before signaling John to continue. The Earl of Oxford caught the cue immediately.
"It is true, Your Majesty, Your Excellency," John said, addressing the Bishop. "Their rites are different. However, my son describes something far more complex than simple idolatry. The Suaza Kingdom is what their sages call a 'secular' state. They do not persecute faith; they observe and learn from it."
Such a concept was alien. Henry understood its rarity, and he could see the rest of those present felt the same.
For most Western Kingdoms, religion was paramount—the very foundation of policy and culture. To find a kingdom that did not center itself upon it was abnormal, to say the least. Even the Sultanates or the rising Ottoman Empire in the East were forbidding any faith other than Islam.
Seeing Henry nod, John continued.
"Edward writes that in their libraries, our scriptures are studied alongside the texts of the infidels and the traditions of their own ancestors. They do not reject God; they seek the truth of the divine by studying every religion known to man, as one might study the stars or the tides."
The Bishop stood, his face reddening under the light of the candelabras.
"Seeking the truth?" he spat with scorn. "The Truth was revealed to us by the Son! To suggest that these pagans can 'study' our faith as if it were a botanical curiosity is the height of pride! Are you suggesting, my lord, that their thousand-headed religion holds the same validity as the Holy Mother Church?"
"I suggest the facts, not my opinions," John retorted with a firmness that made the cleric recoil. "I am a man of faith, and by it I cross myself," he added, tracing the cross over his chest with a mechanical motion, "but I will not close my eyes to the reality of an empire that, without our churches, has achieved a peace and wealth we have only dreamed of."
Henry watched the dispute, his gaze lost in the silk map covering part of the table. The chaos of murmurs and veiled accusations that erupted after John's words did not move him; his mind was working on a far different plane.
Faith is the anchor of the people, but gold is the wind that moves the sails, he thought.
To Henry, being a devout Christian was a matter of order and personal salvation, but his crown was not held up by prayers, but by stability. He knew this religious clash could ruin his most ambitious plan: giving Margaret's hand to Chuta.
If the Church declared the Suaza enemies of the faith, the marriage would be political suicide. He had to find a way to present Chuta not as a pagan, but as a 'noble soul in search of conversion.'
His thoughts drifted to Scotland, where Margaret's former suitor resided.
For years, he had craved to unite the islands through marriage, but now, seeing the scale of Suaza power, James IV seemed a minor concern.
He no longer needed to beg for a Scottish alliance; he only needed to make Scotland dependent on the Suaza goods that only England could provide. Economic dependence would be a chain far stronger than any nuptial contract. Not to mention that a territory so small, compared to the vast lands and riches described by the messengers, offered a clear choice.
Henry looked at his own hands—steady and clean.
He remembered his sons, Arthur and little Henry, who ran through the gardens of Sheen with a vitality he had not seen in other princes. The hygiene teachings of Chuta's physicians—the constant washing, the soap, the purification of water, the balanced diet—had worked miracles.
"If a fraction of their knowledge gives us healthy sons, what would a betrothal give us?" he wondered while the hall continued to murmur.
The vision of a Tudor dynasty extending not just through Europe, but into that new world—strengthened by Suaza science and vigor—was too great a temptation. Religion was an obstacle to be bypassed, not a wall to stop him. The future of his sons, and the glory of England, were well worth a negotiated Mass.
Three months later.
Year 13 of the SuaChie Calendar, Fifth Month (July 1495).
Sheen Palace, London, England.
The Meeting Hall.
The calendar marked July 1495, and the air in Sheen Palace felt heavy—not just from the London summer heat seeping through the ogival windows, but from the expectation suffocating Henry VII's chest.
The King of England sat in the meeting hall, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the mahogany table, a gesture betraying the impatience his marble-like face tried to hide.
Forced waiting was a torment for a man who liked to control every thread of his realm. As he awaited James Norrington, the English leader of the joint expedition, Henry's mind inevitably drifted back to the stormy meeting months prior.
"The Church..." he thought with an internal grimace of disdain.
In recent months, the weight of Rome had become a burden difficult to ignore. Reports from the continent spoke of a Church that preached humility while sinking into the mire of Borgia intrigues in the heart of ancient Rome.
Henry saw the hypocrisy clearly: while the clergy demanded obedience and censored the 'pagan' knowledge of the Suaza, their cardinals played at war and nepotism.
He felt the Vatican attempting to place shackles on him, limiting his sovereignty under the pretext of faith, precisely now that England glimpsed a source of power that did not depend on papal blessings.
The political disputes in Italy were a distant but constant noise—a warning that the old world was crumbling under its own contradictions.
The creak of heavy oak doors broke his reverie. The echo of firm footsteps upon stone announced the end of the wait.
James Norrington entered, flanked by John de Vere and a small group of merchants whose faces—weathered by sun and ambition—shone with the promise of extraordinary news.
Henry stood, regaining his regal composure with the elegance of a predator that has spotted its prey.
"Captain Norrington," Henry greeted, his voice resonating with calculated warmth. "You have been long, but judging by your bearing, the sea has been generous to you."
James bowed in a perfect reverence, following every courtly protocol despite the exhaustion marking his eyes.
"My lord," Norrington replied. "The journey has been long, but every league traveled has been worth the glory of England."
"Your courage shall not go unnoticed, James," Henry said, rounding the table to approach him. "As I promised before your departure, from this moment you shall hold the rank of Viscount. And mark me well: should your ambition lead you to settle in the new territories overseas, you shall govern as an Earl, under the direct protection of my crown."
A flash of pure desire crossed Norrington's face. His eyes narrowed for a second, visualizing lands of his own, castles yet to be built, and a lineage that would carry his name in a new world.
Henry and John de Vere exchanged a knowing glance; both knew that look well. It was not disloyalty; it was the hunger for power that Henry knew how to channel for his own ends.
"I thank you, Your Majesty," James said firmly. "My loyalty is yours, both on this soil and on any we reach beyond the horizon."
"Enough formalities," the King interrupted, sitting again and gesturing for the others to do the same. "Tell me, what have you brought from the lands of the East?"
James straightened, letting enthusiasm color his report.
"It has been more productive than anyone in this hall could have dreamed, Sire. We have not only secured the dyes and gold we already knew of. We have established contact with trade networks that bring goods identical to those of the mythical Silk Road, but without the perils of the deserts or the tolls of the Eastern infidels."
Henry sat bolt upright, feeling a jolt of adrenaline. Looking at the merchants accompanying Norrington, he saw them nodding with an almost religious certainty. Their eyes sparkled as if they were already counting the coins of a treasure still sitting in the ships.
England had done it. They had reached a 'direct' route to the coveted goods of the Silk Road, and while it was by the hand of an allied kingdom, the Suaza, it did not change the fact that they could now access this route on their own.
A moment... Can we access this route? Henry wondered, his expression turning to one of calculating seriousness.
"And the treaty?" John de Vere intervened, sensing his King's expression and breaking the spell of the spices. "What of the agreement with the leader, Chuta?"
Henry, who in his momentary excitement had almost overlooked the legal details, fixed his gaze on Norrington. The merchants leaned forward, holding their breath.
"The treaty is firm," James explained, unfolding a map and several documents bearing Suaza seals. "The Suaza will provide us with ships as promised... Not just for direct sale, but they have accepted a leasing system for our crews in the other ocean—the one they call the Sunset Ocean. We shall be able to sail those waters with total freedom. Furthermore, they have proposed a joint defense pact to aid one another in those distant territories."
A murmur of restrained jubilation swept across the table. Henry felt a triumphant warmth in his chest. To possess ships on the other side of the world meant that England would not only trade, but would dominate the routes before anyone else.
"And there is more," James added with a sly smile. "Due to the personal friendship that has been forged and the mutual respect between our nations, England shall enjoy substantial discounts on purchase prices and shall have absolute priority over any other European kingdom. We are, in the eyes of the Suaza, their preferred allies."
Henry closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the words.
Preferred allies.
While Spain and Portugal fought over papal bulls and fragments of coastline, England had just bought the key to an empire. Religion might remain an obstacle in sermons, but in the coffers of the Realm, the future had just been written in Suaza ink.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
Thank you all for your support. Let's get straight to the chapter comments and an important note from this author at the end.
In this chapter, we have two important points.
First, the attitude of the Church in England, which is a historical matter, and these disputes between the Church and the King would even give rise to the Aglaecnic Church with Henry VII's son, Henry VIII.
However, I want to clarify that this was happening in many Western kingdoms, and it is this very thing that fostered the emergence of many Protestant churches.
At the same time, the Church, with its Papal States in central Italy, was trying to gain power and independence. Other kingdoms wanted to conquer this territory in the name of the Church (Spain), due to unrelated successions (France), or simply out of political ambition (Habsburg).
This was also the internal trigger for the church, as well as the spark that would ignite many 'malpractices' by churches in the various kingdoms.
Second, conflicts such as those in Italy, and kingdoms and dynasties in Northern Europe, are mentioned.
Although brief, this will have much to do with England's future in the novel.
Not only because of the imminent unification of the British Isles, but also because of a future expansion eastward (Norway, Denmark, Sweden, etc.).
AUTHOR'S COMMENTS
First, I want to say that I'm not satisfied with the chapter, not because it's poorly written, but because perhaps it wasn't necessary.
While I further improved the scenes of noble meetings at the English court, something that was difficult for me to imagine, I could have simply included in a report from Chuta that England accepted the deal and that they were experiencing internal problems.
Both approaches could have worked overall, but in my opinion, the chapter could have avoided them.
I won't lie, I enjoyed writing it, but now I feel a little bad about it.
On the other hand, this was also perhaps one of the last chapters on these perspectives. I was thinking that limiting myself to a few key players was restricting the story and making it unappealing to people who don't like historical facts.
However, this doesn't mean they're going to disappear.
No.
In fact, I'm going to expand them with a new section:
Echoes.
For example, the sections on Columbus and Henry will be combined into 'Echoes of the East.' This section will also include perspectives on other historical figures: kings, scientists, popes, as well as important events: wars, treaties, and alliances.
Another example is the perspectives of Moctezuma and Nezahualpilli, which will be added to 'Internal Echoes'. This will be complemented by the situations of smaller cultures, like those mentioned in recent chapters, as well as the forgotten Inca Empire.
PS: I'm reading the comments, and I'll reply to them soon (promises I find hard to keep, haha). Also, it's true, I was 'wrong' about the casualties; I'll reply to your comment soon explaining what happened (you, yes you, you know who I'm referring to, haha).
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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.]