PREVIOUSLY.
["I... I haven't thought about it carefully yet," she murmured, timidly playing with the edge of her sleeve.
She remained silent for a long minute.
She turned her face toward the wide windows, letting the sunlight outline her silhouette. Her eyes drifted into the blue sky stretching over Dawn City, perhaps seeking the answer in the wind or the will of the spirits.
Finally, she turned her gaze back to me. Her dark eyes shone with a serene conviction.
"But... if it is a girl..." her voice was a firm whisper, "I believe she should be named Za."]
…
Four months later.
Year 14 of the SuaChie Calendar, Ninth Month (November 1496).
Lake Mountain City (Valledupar, Colombia), Coquivacoa Region (LR).
Meeting Room 1, Council House.
"But... if it is a girl..." her voice was a firm whisper, "I believe she should be named Za."
Nyia's words resonated in my chest with an indescribable warmth, anchoring themselves in my memory throughout the journey we undertook shortly after.
Four months had passed since my recovery and that tender conversation about naming our offspring. The stifling coastal climate had been left behind, replaced by the constant, cool breeze descending from the mountains.
Our entire retinue—my three wives, my closest aides, and even the vice ministers who usually accompanied my every step—had relocated to Lake Mountain City.
Being here held profound meaning; it was the city where Nyia was born and where her parents still resided.
This imposing enclave of stone and wood, which in its beginnings was one of the largest and most formidable settlements of the Tairona people before the formation of the Suaza Kingdom, had been governed with a firm and just hand by Xiua, the chieftain and Nyia's father. Until very recently, under the old territorial boundaries, this metropolis stood proudly as the capital of the northwest region.
However, progress and expansion demanded structural sacrifices. With the establishment of the new macro-regions the previous year, Xiua had been promoted to governor of the Lake Region, now officially known as the Coquivacoa Region.
To ensure optimal management of such a vast territory, the administrative capital would soon be moved to a much more central location, possibly into the very heart of the majestic Lake Suaza (Lake Maracaibo).
Even so, Lake Mountain City would not lose its luster; it would continue to be administered by Xiua's family and would maintain its status as one of the largest and most vibrant metropolises in the entire region.
We had arrived a couple of weeks ago, taking advantage of the fact that Nyia's pregnancy was in a highly stable stage. Out of pure precaution and filial love, she had settled into her parents' immense residence, surrounded by all the care, pampering, and medical attention the kingdom could offer.
I, for my part, to avoid mixing exhausting state affairs with family rest, usually stayed at the city's Council House, an imposing building with high ceilings that formerly served as the Regional Palace.
I was standing before a wide window, watching the bustle of merchants and artisans in the main square. Thanks to the diligence of Xiua and his brother, who now held the position of City Chancellor, this office in the Council House had been adapted exclusively for my use. It was a sober but comfortable space, permeated with the scent of fresh cedar and resin.
I sighed deeply, running a hand through my hair. I couldn't help it; I felt terribly nervous about the pregnancy. Nyia was a very delicate young woman, and although the royal physicians assured me every day that her health was absolutely perfect, my mind betrayed me.
According to my past knowledge, her pregnancy was still too "young" by the medical standards of the future, no matter how completely normal and safe it was considered for current times and customs. The fear of losing her, of losing that little being growing inside her, kept me in a state of silent, high alert.
Suddenly, a sharp, rhythmic knock echoed on the heavy mahogany door of meeting room number 1.
I turned just in time to see one of my aides peek in with an expression of mild confusion.
"Leader Chuta," he announced with a bow, "I apologize for the interruption, but there is a local merchant outside requesting to see you urgently."
I frowned for a moment before memory came to my rescue.
I vividly recalled the confidential warning Zasaba had given me in Dawn City before my departure: "Great Leader, any urgent communication from the Shadows in the Coquivacoa Region will be made exclusively through the chief agent of that city."
The paranoia of being spied upon by dissident factions or foreign powers forced us to move within the shadows.
"Let him in, please," I ordered the aide, smoothing the folds of my tunic to regain my composure.
An ordinary-looking man, dressed in the typical garments of a regional fabric merchant, entered the office with calm, measured steps, offering me a standard greeting. He waited in absolute silence. Only when my aide closed the door behind him, leaving us completely alone by my own command, did the visitor's demeanor change radically.
With a martial fluidity that entirely clashed with his disguise, the "merchant" took a step forward, planted one knee on the stone floor, and bowed his head in a salute of absolute, strict military respect.
I stood somewhat surprised, blinking a couple of times.
It had been a long time since I directly interacted with field agents other than Zasaba himself, and I must admit I had completely forgotten the rigid 'forms' of etiquette that the first instructors and founding members of the espionage network used in my presence.
It was a display of profound, almost devoted loyalty. I quickly deduced that, given the Shadows' level of indoctrination, it would be extremely difficult to force him to change his attitude at that very moment, so I simply decided to follow the established standards.
"Rise, I greet you," I told him in a deep, serene tone, extending a hand. "Please, take a seat across the desk, in case someone enters the office unexpectedly. We cannot arouse suspicion."
The agent nodded silently. He understood the tactical order perfectly, sprang nimbly to his feet, and instantly reverted to his role as a humble merchant, sitting in the carved wooden chair with a slightly hunched posture.
"What is your name?" I asked, resting my elbows on the desk.
"Nyquy, My Lord," the man replied, his voice low, a murmur barely audible beyond the table.
"Tell me, Nyquy, what vital information do you bring to seek me out directly here?" I inquired, my mind bracing for any wartime scenario.
Without a word, the agent slipped a hand beneath the folds of his colorful ruana and drew out a thick, tanned leather envelope, bulging with the number of papers it contained. He placed it on the table.
I observed the object closely; the envelope was completely sealed with a thick layer of dark wax, bearing not the slightest sign of having been opened or tampered with beforehand.
I broke the seal with a bronze letter opener and extracted the dense folios of papyrus and fiber paper. My eyes began to rapidly scan the lines written in cipher.
My pulse quickened as I deciphered the first paragraphs. They were detailed and alarming reports about the latest naval movements of the Kingdom of Portugal. But what truly stole my breath and captured my full attention was the second section of the document: the technical and strategic reports regarding the rapid progress of the first shipyards our own kingdom was secretly developing in the distant territory of the Wattasid Sultanate.
I looked up from the dense sheets of paper, feeling the weight of history pressing against my temples. The smell of melted wax and tanned leather filled the space between the agent and me.
"Nyquy," I began, my voice sounding rougher than I intended, "did Zasaba mention anything specific regarding this matter with Portugal?"
The spy disguised as a merchant gave a slight nod, maintaining his rigid posture in the wooden chair.
"Yes, Great Leader. According to the intelligence our networks, the armada, and the merchant guilds have managed to gather, these new naval movements are a direct response to a change in the crown. Following the recent death of King John II of Portugal, the ascension of Manuel I to the throne has accelerated their expansionist plans. Added to this," Nyquy paused briefly, measuring his words, "is the poor profitability that, in the eyes of the new crown, the joint expedition with our kingdom yielded."
I frowned, resting my elbows on the cedar desk.
"Poor profitability?" I repeated, genuinely bewildered. "They brought cargoes of silk, spices, and porcelain directly from Cipangu and the archipelago's ports. What do they understand by 'profitability'?"
"They understand exclusivity and volume, My Lord," Nyquy replied with analytical coldness. "While they obtained acceptable profit margins by trading the exotic products of the East, the Shadows' reports indicate this does not represent a dazzling figure when compared to their own monopolies in the Guanza Quyca. I am referring specifically to the trade of slaves, ivory, and even pure gold that they maintain with the Akan peoples."
The agent leaned slightly forward, lowering his voice.
"In fact, an interesting logistical phenomenon has occurred. Thanks to the boom of our own Guanzauba City and the network of Suaza settlements surrounding the Desert Oasis City, the Portuguese have almost completely halted their direct contact with the Wolof Empire. The African empire now prefers to actively trade with us, on our terms."
My strategist's mind and my knowledge of the future clicked instantly. A shiver ran down my spine as I understood Lisbon's play.
"They aren't retreating because we beat them to the North African market," I muttered, more to myself than to Nyquy. "They are treating Guanzauba and our island cities in the Dawn Ocean as their allied logistical hub.
By using our ports to resupply safely and at a low cost, they spare themselves the trouble of negotiating with the Wolof Empire and can direct all their naval efforts straight toward the land of the Akan... to what in my time they would call the 'Gold Coast.' That is how they maximize their profits from the trafficking of slaves and minerals."
"Exactly, My Lord. They are using our peace to finance their cruelty in the south," Nyquy confirmed.
I ran a hand over my face, feeling the frustration bubble in my chest. I was trying to change history, but the European powers always found a crack to feed their greed.
"Do you have information on the commander leading this new fleet that Portugal is preparing?"
"Yes. King Manuel I himself has entrusted the mission to a nobleman named Vasco da Gama."
That name echoed in my head like a cannon shot.
Vasco da Gama.
The man who, in my original timeline, would open the maritime route to India by rounding the Cape of Good Hope.
"Furthermore," the agent added, "it is highly possible that Spain will send at least one support ship alongside this Portuguese fleet. This comes in response to the marriage proposal between King Manuel I and Infanta Isabella of Aragon, the eldest daughter of the Catholic Monarchs. Though, according to our infiltrators in the Castilian court, the Infanta seems extremely reluctant to accept the engagement. She refuses to live in Portugal as long as the Lusitanian crown continues to harbor Jews and other groups she considers 'heretics.'"
I clenched my fists on the table. The mention of Isabella and her fanaticism instantly transported me to the dark historical memories I possessed.
I remembered the infamous Edict of Granada decreed years ago, the brutal expulsion of the Jews from Spain itself, and I knew with chilling exactness what would happen across the entire Iberian Peninsula if everything followed its natural course: diplomatic blackmail that would end in forced conversions and massacres.
I took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind of the inevitable European tragedy to focus on what I could control. I picked up the papyrus referring to North Africa.
"Alright, let's move on to the secret shipyards. Regarding the Wattasid Sultanate..."
BAM!
The heavy mahogany door burst open, stopping me dead in my tracks. An aide practically stumbled in, his chest heaving violently from a lack of air, his face beaded with sweat. He hadn't knocked—a grave breach of protocol that made me instantly tense, fearing an attack or a medical emergency with Nyia.
"Leader Chuta!" the young man panted, resting his hands on his knees. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry to burst in like this... But your parents and your little sister have just arrived at the city gates!"
The martial and geopolitical tension evaporated from my body in a fraction of a second, replaced by an outburst of joy.
I stood up so abruptly that the wooden chair scraped loudly against the stone floor.
"They're already here?!" I exclaimed, feeling an immense, almost childlike smile take over my face. I turned to Nyquy, who had already risen with an impeccable bow. "Good work, Nyquy. You are dismissed for now, and we will discuss this trade deal later."
The spy offered a deep bow, taking his cordial leave and restoring his facade of a humble merchant before slipping out of the office.
I didn't wait another second; I strode around the desk and hurried out of the Council House, leaving behind the reports of war, Vasco da Gama, and King Manuel I.
As I walked at a brisk pace through the stone corridors, flanked by my guards, my mind flew straight to little Chaza.
The girl had been born in the eleventh month of Year 12; a ray of pure light for our family. If my calculations were correct, by the current date she was only a couple of months shy of celebrating her second birthday.
I had been fortunate enough to spend her first months of life cradling her and watching her grow, but my duties as leader of the kingdom had forced me to travel, so I had only seen her intermittently at the beginning of this year, right after her first birthday.
She was, without a doubt, an absolute cutie. Her chubby cheeks and bright eyes had the power to melt the hardest heart. Even little Princess Margaret, during my fourteenth birthday celebration in Central City, had been completely fascinated by her, chasing her through the gardens thinking exactly the same as me.
However, beyond her childish tenderness, what puzzled and surprised me most about Chaza was a strange, undeniable spiritual aura she seemed to naturally exude.
At first, I came to think she perhaps possessed a "gift" similar to mine—some remnant of future knowledge, memories of another life, or simply a superior cognitive development. But after observing her carefully, I realized that wasn't it.
Chaza simply seemed to resonate, to vibrate on a different frequency when she was near religious elements, rituals, or nature itself; something that High Priest Simte found absolutely fascinating.
I vividly remembered that afternoon when High Priest Simte had approached my father, Hyba, with an expression of absolute astonishment painted on his face. In his slow, solemn voice, he had told him that he and my mother, Za, had practically spawned a generation of geniuses in every conceivable field.
And looking back on it, he wasn't wrong.
There was my older brother, Upqua, a formidable warrior of unwavering loyalty and an excellent strategist who now served as General of the Central Region. There was my sister Chuquy, whose mind shone with a superior wit and wisdom for numbers and administration, ruling the vast Achagua-Nirua region with a firm hand.
There was me, burdened with this knowledge from the future that everyone around me branded as "divine." And now there was her, little Chaza, radiating that overwhelming innate spirituality from the cradle.
But that family light always brought with it an inescapable shadow.
Amidst the celebrations and shared silences, my parents and Simte couldn't help but look at the little girl and mourn, with a persistent lump in their throats, the tragic loss of our brother Hyqua in that fateful Year 3. It still hurt to imagine what kind of prodigy he might have been had he lived.
I snapped out of my gloomy thoughts upon hearing a happy babble.
I blinked, focusing my eyes on the garden bathed in the afternoon sun. There was little Chaza, walking on her own with wobbly but determined steps, looking at her surroundings with huge, curious eyes.
A couple of meters behind her, Hyba and Za followed closely, watching her with the devoted care of those who fear that the most precious glass will shatter in the wind.
I stood up slowly, smoothing my tunic, and looked at her calmly.
Noticing my movement, Chaza turned her little head. Her eyes lit up as she recognized me, and she started running toward me, stumbling over her own feet in her haste. I crouched down to her level and held out my arms.
I caught her in mid-air just before she fell; she smiled broadly at me, showing her tiny teeth, and threw her arms around my neck, greeting me with a tenderness that melted my heart.
My parents were quick to close the distance. They approached us with warm smiles, and without a word, we wrapped ourselves in a tight group hug, feeling the familiar heartbeat that united us.
Then my mother reached out and took Chaza from my arms. The little one furrowed her brow, clearly reluctant to part with me, and tried to reach back, but my mother held her with firm sweetness.
"Nyia will be a wonderful mother, son," Za said suddenly, changing the subject with a maternal smile meant to bring me peace. "And you will be a great father."
Hyba nodded beside her, giving me a proud pat on the shoulder, congratulating me on Nyia's pregnancy. It was my first child, and the mixture of terror and euphoria had my nerves on edge.
"Thank you, Father... Mother. I truly appreciate it," I replied, nodding as I tried to maintain my composure. "Come, I will guide you to the house."
I took the lead and began guiding them through the city's cobblestone streets to the imposing house of Xiua's family, where Nyia was resting.
…
The smell of boiled herbs and clean sheets flooded the hallways.
Three months after that afternoon in the garden, my entire family was gathered, expectant and nervous, hanging onto every sound coming from the medical wing of the Xiua household. Nyia had gone into labor.
I felt as though I couldn't breathe. I wanted to go in, I wanted to hold her hand, wipe away her sweat, and tell her everything would be all right. But my own medical knowledge kept me anchored on the other side of the door.
I had undergone my variolation process very recently; though it was a vital health measure I myself had introduced to prevent smallpox; I didn't know how the residual illness actually behaved at this stage. I could not, under any circumstances, pose an infection risk to Nyia or the fragile creature about to be born.
Helplessness gnawed at me. Over the past few hours, I had received constant comfort from my parents, but especially from my other two wives. Umza, with her inexhaustible energy, and Turey, with her distant yet simultaneously close affection, had taken turns rubbing my back and whispering words of encouragement.
Both awaited the birth of this baby with equal eagerness—a baby whom, according to the beautiful traditions we had forged in our family, they would consider and love as their own.
I had tried everything that day to relax or distract my thoughts: reviewing trade reports, counting the ceiling planks, walking in circles… Nothing worked.
I slumped onto a wooden bench in the waiting room adjoining the medical wing, rubbing my temples. It was then that I felt a little tap on my knee.
Opening my eyes, I saw Chaza. The little girl was staring at me, holding a thick piece of paper in her hands. Her tiny fingers and palms were covered in fresh paint stains. Without a word, she held the parchment out to me.
I took it out of sheer reflex, expecting to see some childish scribble, a misshapen sun, or an abstract flower. But when my eyes focused on the strokes, a chill ran down my spine.
It was a map of the world developed by the kingdom.
It was an approximate map of the world known to the Suaza Kingdom. It was a simple version, to be sure, but detailed in its continental proportions. However, it wasn't the geography that left me breathless, but the colors.
Chaza had used her stained hands to apply four specific colors: red, orange, yellow, and green.
My mind immediately began to process the information.
The smears of red were positioned with chilling precision over the territories of Portugal, Spain, the Mexica Empire of the Triple Alliance, and the Holy Roman Empire.
The orange stains covered the areas corresponding to England, France, the Ottoman Empire, the Inca Empire in the Andes, and the distant Ming Dynasty in Asia. The yellow and green colors were scattered across the rest of the map, some clearly pointing to our direct allies or neutral territories.
While her finger smudges didn't outline the correct political borders—an impossible feat for a girl her age—the pattern left no room for doubt. That wasn't a drawing. It was a hazard map… A geopolitical threat assessment color-coded.
I froze, the paper trembling slightly in my hands. I could have tried to convince myself, appealing to logic, that little Chaza had simply wandered into my office and copied some confidential Shadows document. But the problem, the terrifying reality that made my blood run cold, was that not even I had developed a color-coded risk assessment map yet.
How was it possible? Did her spiritual aura allow her to perceive the hostile intentions of the entire world?
The situation was too bizarre, even for someone like me, who had been reborn across time and space.
I opened my mouth, about to crouch down and ask my little sister a question she probably wouldn't know how to answer, when a sharp sound tore through the silence of the house.
A powerful, shrill, and vigorous cry echoed from inside the medical wing.
The map fell from my hands, fluttering to the floor. My heart violently contracted in a spasm of pure terror, fearing the worst, but the next second it began to race, driven by the overwhelming force of emotion.
My child!
I ran toward the heavy wooden door, almost tripping over my own feet. Just as I raised my fist to knock, the door opened from the inside. A medical assistant in an impeccable tunic stepped out into the hallway, smelling strongly of steam and sanitizing herbs.
He looked me in the eyes, noticing my panic, and a warm smile spread across his face.
"Rest easy, my lord. Both are in perfect condition," the assistant reported, offering a slight bow. "The baby is very strong, and Lady Nyia is conscious and holding the child in her arms right now."
I let out all the breath in my lungs in a trembling sigh and leaned against the doorframe, feeling my legs give way out of sheer relief. A nervous, tear-filled laugh escaped my lips.
They were fine… My family was fine.
Amidst the whirlwind of emotions and the deafening rush of my own blood roaring in my ears, the assistant kept talking, but my mind was already on the other side of that door. I didn't even register when he told me whether the creature that had just been born to inherit this strange and vast world was a boy or a girl…
.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Thanks to everyone for the support.
I just wanted to mention that Chuta's sister's name means "Our Night."
On another note, I've decided to do the Sogeking expedition in two parts. The first part is from his departure from Dawn City to Discovery City. The second part is from Discovery City to his return.
The first part will be more relaxed and formal, although you will see some minor cultures.
The second part will be more intense, with some battles and fights.]