IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER.
[I felt a profound respect for this man and for all those who gave their lives to keep the flame of our nation alive at the very edge of the world.
I smiled at him warmly, a sincere gesture that broke the ice between us. "Then I ask you to guide me to the town hall at once, my good friend. There is much to tell of the new lands, and I assure you the conversation will be sweet... I bring with me a cargo of chocolate, a special gift sent by the very hands of Leader Chuta for you all."
The mayor's face lit up with pure joy at the word "chocolate," an absolute treasure in these frigid lands. He let out a cheerful laugh that echoed across the docks and, turning with a surprising agility for his size, made a sweeping gesture with his arm.
"Follow me, please! The last bastion is yours!" he exclaimed, guiding me with a steady stride through the snow-covered streets of the city.]
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Year 14 of the SuaChie Calendar, Eighth Month (October 1496).
Suaza Strait (Strait of Magellan), Southern Quyca.
West Strait City (Punta Arenas, Chile).
The south wind did not merely bite; it sought to tear the flesh from your bones. The journey to the town hall was a blind battle where the icy gusts silenced the words in my throat. Yet, upon crossing the threshold of the building's heavy wooden doors, the outside world vanished. The sudden silence was almost deafening.
The town hall welcomed me with a wave of thick, protective heat that made me close my eyes. The entire manor was steeped in the scent of dry firewood, oil, and resin—an atmosphere infinitely more welcoming than the frozen hell scourging the city streets.
The mayor led me to his office, slowly shedding his thick layers of fur. As I held my numb hands toward the fire crackling in the hearth, he personally brought over a heavy cast-iron kettle. Almost instantly, one of his aides entered with deep reverence, bearing the leather parcel that held our expedition's precious chocolate.
I watched in silence as the mayor prepared the beverage. It was no mere formality; it felt like a sacred ritual. His hands, weathered and scarred, moved with surprising delicacy. He heated the water to the precise temperature, poured in the pure cacao, and stirred it rhythmically with a wooden ladle until a thick, dark foam crowned the surface. The sweet, earthy aroma of the north filled the room, a violent contrast to the howling wind battering the outer walls.
We sat facing each other, cupping the steaming mugs in our palms to absorb every ounce of warmth. I took the first sip. The liquid flowed down my throat like liquid fire, a comforting embrace that restored the feeling to my chest. In this unforgiving climate, chocolate tasted of life itself.
"Tell me, Mayor," I began, lowering my mug. "Has it been terribly difficult for you to hold this bastion? How long have you been assigned to this frozen corner of the world?"
The man looked at me over the rim of his mug. His eyes, framed by small wrinkles from squinting against the snow, gleamed with genuine gratitude for the drink and the company. He smiled faintly.
"Perhaps you do not remember, Admiral," he replied, his voice deep and measured, "but I am not one of the new additions... I arrived here with the first expedition."
I froze, my mug halfway to my lips. My mind immediately did the math.
"The first?" I murmured, genuinely astonished. "That means you have been here for at least five years." "Indeed," he nodded, settling into his chair. "In the beginning, like many others, I was but a simple foot soldier. A specialist in logistical development. I came with the first fleet to cross the strait, though I did not have the honor of sailing on your imposing vessel, the King of Shooters."
I frowned, processing the information. The laws of our kingdom were clear and compassionate toward its soldiers.
"But then, why haven't you returned?" I asked, leaning forward. "You well know that the army and navy demand a maximum of three or four years of service in overseas territories... You fulfilled your duty to the realm long ago."
The mayor sighed. He stared into the bottom of his mug as if his memories were drowning there, and after a long silence, he spoke.
"At first, I only wanted to return... I confess, Admiral, every night I prayed to the gods for the ice to melt so I could flee." He paused, taking a small sip. "But after the first year... when another wave of compatriots arrived and we saw that we could build something real, something shifted within me."
He rubbed his hands together, gazing intently at the flames in the fireplace.
"The resilience I had to find just to avoid freezing to death transformed me. In the north we have comforts, we have noise. Here, the land strips you bare. It takes away everything you do not need. I realized that this place had made me stronger, and that, in this white silence, I felt much closer to the spirits and the gods."
I knew not how to respond to such a profound revelation, so I merely nodded, offering him my absolute respect in silence. That confession opened the door to a conversation that stretched on for more than two hours. The chocolate was soon gone, and the mayor, wishing to save the rest for his family and friends, called for bitter infusions of wild local herbs to be served instead.
Far from a mere summary of his duties, his words made me live through his last five years. He spoke with fervor of how they had been forced to invent new tools from local bones and stones because metal grew brittle in the extreme cold. He recounted the tense negotiations required to pacify hunting disputes between the local tribes.
"If you could see the shipyards now, Admiral, you would not believe it," he told me at one point, his eyes shining with pride. "We have adapted the realm's shipbuilding techniques using the local timber. Large boats and mid-sized ships are turning out every day." His voice suddenly softened, dropping to a near whisper. "And I met someone. Her name is Hannúxa. In her tongue, it means 'moon'... She taught me how to read the frozen tides... We were bound two winters ago."
He also recounted the hardest moments, telling me how the medicine we had sent from the north managed to save several elders and newborn children who would have previously succumbed to the winter fever.
By the time the grayish light from the window began to dim, I knew it was time to return to my ships. I stood up and brushed off my tunic, mentally preparing myself for the bitter cold outside.
Yet, looking at the mayor, I noticed he remained tightly gripping his empty mug. His knuckles were white. There was a palpable reluctance in his posture, as if he were biting his tongue. I paused.
"Mayor," I said, my tone firm but amicable. "You are a man who has conquered the end of the world. Do not mince words with me. Tell me, what is wrong? Is there some way I can help you?"
The man let out a trembling sigh, set the mug on the table, and stood, straightening his imposing figure.
"The great hunting season approaches on the southern coasts and islands, Admiral," he began, his tone heavy with urgency. "It is the time when the enormous aquatic beasts climb onto the rocks to breed... those thick-skinned animals with deafening roars, and the immense blubber-laden colossi with snouts that hang heavily over their mouths. Their meat, and above all their thick fat, are our only hope to keep the fires burning and survive the deep winter."
He swallowed hard, looking at me with a mixture of desperation and wounded pride.
"The problem is that our first great Tequendama I-class ships... the only ones capable of withstanding the weight and the fury of those beasts in the open sea, will take another four months to leave the shipyard. They will be too late. I humbly ask you... could your ships help us transport our hunters and haul back those beasts?"
The mayor's unusual request left me speechless for a moment.
My mind, 'trained' to calculate routes, schedules, and provisions, collided head-on with my adventurous spirit. The mental image of facing those blubber-laden, deafeningly roaring colossi on the high seas made my blood boil with anticipation, driving the cold from my veins. The thrill of partaking in a hunt of such titanic proportions crushed any inkling of prudence.
"Count on my ships, Mayor," I replied, my voice ringing with a firmness that left no room for doubt. "My sailors are eager for some action that does not solely involve battling the wind."
The man's weathered face lit up as if I had handed him the very sun. He let out a hoarse laugh, grasped my hand in both of his, and shook it with profound gratitude.
"May the spirits of the ice bless you, Admiral!" he exclaimed, overflowing with relief. "I will personally ensure that there is no shortage of extra rations for every one of your men. And, of course, they will receive extra pay for risking their lives in this endeavor."
Seeing his genuine emotion, I pushed aside the sudden, sharp pang of guilt over the inevitable delay this impulsive decision would cause the Great Expedition. But something in his words made me frown.
"Extra pay?" I asked, tilting my head. "Forgive my presumption, my friend, but... what could you possibly pay us with here? I assumed that in this barren land, the only currency was survival."
The mayor smiled mysteriously; his eyes gleaming in the firelight.
"That is what we all thought at first. But thanks to the tireless help of the locals and the establishment of trade routes with the great peoples of the north, such as the Mapuche and the Tehuelche, the land revealed its secrets to us. We have struck deposits that have changed our lives."
He stepped over to a small wooden chest on his desk and opened it, revealing its contents to me.
"We have coal mines to feed the great furnaces of the shipyards. And in the mountain rivers, we have found gold and silver. Resources that, as you well know, speak the language of any realm. Furthermore, the oil we extract from the beasts we will hunt does not merely provide heat; it is so pure that it proves invaluable for our lanterns and machinery."
I stared at the metallic gleam inside the chest, astonished. I had taken for granted that this was an inhospitable place, a prison of ice devoid of riches, and I expressed my genuine surprise at the immense luck they had to unearth such treasures.
"And that is not all," the mayor continued, brimming with pride. "The Simte Academy sent an agricultural researcher a few months ago. It turns out the lands of our northern allies are incredibly suitable for cultivating the strange foreign seeds our leader Chuta has been gathering. The scholar left us a promising ledger:"
Wheat and Barley: To secure our own reserves of bread and grain. Oats and Rye: Ideal for withstanding the cold climates and feeding the livestock. Fruit Trees: Hardy varieties that are already in their adaptation period.
"All of that," the mayor added, "not to mention that the locals themselves already possess variations of the potato, which is of exceptional quality and grows in almost any rugged terrain."
As I bid my farewells and stepped back out into the freezing, wind-swept streets, my mind was racing. I remembered how, years ago, when discovering this strait for the first time, I had looked upon these gray shores taking for granted that we would never find anything of value here.
How arrogant ignorance is, I thought, marveling at how wrong I had been.
Three days later.
The Sunset Ocean welcomed us with its usual fury, but this time we were not fleeing from it; we were on the hunt. I found myself skirting the treacherous continental borders of Greater Quyca at the helm of three imposing Tequendama I-class vessels: the two heavy ships that had escorted me on my original voyage, and the ship commanded by Tequa.
We had left the delicate scholars and technicians of the expedition safely in the city, transforming our decks into veritable platforms of naval warfare. The atmosphere aboard was electric. The crew was no longer composed solely of experienced Suaza sailors, but was joined by a boisterous and diverse group of local natives from the city and allied villages.
There were agile Selk'nam and Haush readying harpoons; formidable Yaghans guiding my helmsmen through hidden currents; and even a group of gigantic Tehuelches, who previously distrusted the sea, marveling at the stability of what they considered "giant canoes."
The constant pitching of the ships made the heavy hunting boats creak. Resting lashed to the deck, they were now enhanced by Suaza construction techniques and style. The moorings were not made of our usual hemp, but of tough ropes fashioned from thick animal sinews, masterfully woven by the locals.
The wind blew freezing cold, chapping our lips, but no one seemed to care. The excitement of the imminent deployment unified Suazas and southerners into a single predatory spirit.
Suddenly, I heard the crunch of boots on the frosted timber. Tequa approached me, hunched against the wind, his hands firmly tucked inside his thick tanned-leather garments. His face, framed by a fur hood, bore a mixture of irritation and polar chill.
He scowled at me, still annoyed by my decision to pause the main voyage.
"Are you cold, Admiral?" he asked, his voice dripping with heavy sarcasm, his teeth chattering imperceptibly.
I gave him a sidelong glance. Despite my three layers of furs, I too was shaking like a leaf, but I bit the inside of my cheek to hold back a laugh and avoid angering him further.
"I am perfectly acclimated, Captain. A simple southern breeze," I replied, trying to keep my jaw steady.
Tequa noticed my obvious trembling and let out a loud snort, exhaling a thick cloud of white vapor.
"You are a damned stubborn fool," he reproached me, losing his patience. "I will say it one more time: you should not have delayed our main mission for a hunting whim... This is an important mission."
I opened my mouth, ready to explain to him for the fourth time the logistical benefits of the oil and the honor of aiding our compatriots, but a voice tore through the roaring wind.
"Starboard! Pod in sight!" roared the lookout from the crow's nest, pointing frantically toward a cluster of dark, foam-lashed rocks.
Tequa's reprimand died on his lips. The deep, guttural roar of dozens of immense aquatic beasts echoed across the water, vibrating through the ship's timbers. The chaos that followed the lookout's cry was not one of panic, but of astonishing precision. It was a beautifully orchestrated chaos, executed by men who had the hunting instinct tattooed into their blood.
In an instant, order transformed into an explosion of shouts, commands, and the frantic sound of sinew ropes being untied.
The agile and swift Selk'nam were the first to react. Moving like shadows despite the heavy furs cloaking them, they unlashed the sinew ropes with enviable speed, gripping their heavy harpoons with a lethal familiarity.
Immediately, the Haush and the Yaghans followed suit, detaching the sturdy boats from the hull of our Tequendama I. What marveled me most was the perfect harmony that reigned on the deck; even the towering Tehuelches, who had previously viewed the sea with deep distrust, now cooperated with overwhelming strength, preparing immense nets and spare harpoons to supply the hunters.
I leaned over the gunwale, clinging to the frozen wooden railing. Below, the sea roared, throwing up crests of white foam. I watched with bated breath as the hunters descended the sides of the ship, their boats—sturdy Kaimán-class vessels built in the city's shipyards using our enhancements in timber and mortar—touching the churning surface.
Each boat gathered a maximum of four men, a fascinating blend of different peoples united by a single purpose. Not one of them took his eyes off the dark 'rocks' ahead of us.
Until that day, I had only seen those formidable aquatic beasts from the safety granted by my spyglass. Seeing them now, mere meters away, sent a chill through me that cut deeper than the polar wind. They were colossi of muscle and blubber, living mountains with roars that made the very water vibrate.
They could have capsized one of the Kaimán boats with a simple, lazy thrash of a tail. Yet, the hunters showed not a shred of fear. They looked unbreakable, brimming with confidence; it was evident that the quality of their new tools and the imposing shadow of our ships escorting them offered a security they simply did not possess before in their solitary and fragile canoes.
A fierce, primal thrill flushed my face, an internal heat that was only tempered by the relentless, damp breeze soaking my cheeks. Tequa stepped up beside me, entirely forgetting his earlier irritation. His normally stern eyes were wide open, marveling at the savage display. He raised an arm and pointed with a gloved finger.
"There, Admiral! Look at the first group!" he exclaimed, raising his voice over the thunder of the waves.
I followed the direction of his hand. Some fifty meters to port, one of the boats had intercepted one of the beasts in the water. With a dexterity that defied the storm, two of the hunters stood up and sank their harpoons deep into the animal's thick flanks.
Feeling the iron, the creature reacted with titanic fury. It tried to dive and escape, pulling the ropes taut to the breaking point. The hunters, quick as lightning, secured the lines to a sturdy wooden stanchion in the center of the boat.
The brute strength of the animal was colossal. It dragged the wooden boat for dozens of meters, slicing through the waves at a terrifying speed. Suddenly, the beast made a sharp turn, threatening to capsize the small craft.
That was when the unthinkable happened.
One of the Yaghans, without a single second of hesitation, leapt overboard straight into the freezing waters, clutching a second harpoon. He dove, calculating the monster's underwater trajectory with a cold and instinctive mind.
My heart began to pound with painful violence. I gritted my teeth. Every second that man spent underwater made me feel as if my own chest were freezing over. No one can survive that cold, I thought, terrified. But I was wrong.
After an eternal few moments, the boat's frantic race came to a dead halt. The water bubbled, and the Yaghan broke the surface. He was drenched, his face flushed and wracked by slight tremors, but his gaze radiated iron determination.
He gave a quick, sharp signal to his companions. Immediately, the rest of the group began to heave with all their might, hoisting the defeated beast toward the surface, while one of them took the oars to tow the prize back to our ship.
The scene repeated itself all around us.
The rest of the boats proceeded with similar tactics, a deadly dance of harpoons and ropes. However, I noticed a pattern: they only attacked the most massive and sluggish creatures, ignoring the young and the mothers with small calves.
Tequa, who was scrutinizing the hunt with the same intensity as I, turned to one of the local Suaza soldiers securing lines on the deck.
"Soldier," Tequa called out to him, "how exactly do they decide which of those behemoths to attack amidst this chaos?" The young soldier stood at attention, saluting with deep respect before answering.
"We exclusively target the oldest males and females, sir. Especially the solitary males," he explained, raising his voice against the wind. "It is a strict agreement. Both the local leaders and our scholars from the Academy instructed us to hunt this way so as not to decimate the population or alter the balance of the pods."
Tequa nodded, his face reflecting genuine interest and approval for the logistical and natural wisdom we had implemented on this frontier of the world. I myself was about to add a comment of pride, when the entire world seemed to shudder beneath our boots.
CRASH!
A hideous crack echoed through the timbers of the Tequendama I. One of the aquatic beasts, a wandering behemoth that had strayed from the main pod, rammed the hull of our ship with the force of a battering ram. The jolt was so brutal and sudden that the vessel listed violently to starboard.
I managed to cling to the railing, but Tequa, who was turned conversing with the soldier, lost his center of gravity. His thick boots slipped on the frosted deck. My heart seized in an icy fist.
"Tequa!" I shouted, reaching out my arm in desperation.
Everything seemed to happen in macabre, agonizing slow motion. I saw my friend's wide eyes, his hands frantically searching for a hold in empty air as his body pitched overboard. The impact against the raging sea echoed in my ears. The black, freezing water swallowed him in a blink.
Panic overrode my reason. I tore off my heavy fur tunic, ready to leap into an icy death to pull him out. But just as my boots left the deck, a flash of movement caught my eye below. A Yaghan hunter from the nearest boat attempting to subdue the beast responsible for the collision, abandoned his position without hesitation and dove like an arrow to rescue my officer.
I froze, leaning over the abyss, my knuckles white from gripping the wood so tightly. The seconds began to drag on, slow, heavy, suffocating. The surface of the churning water remained dark and empty. Suddenly, the fervent atmosphere and the cheers of victory that filled the deck faded completely, swallowed by the shadow of the accident. Only the howling wind answered my silent prayers.
Nothing happened... Absolutely nothing.
.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Thank you all for your support.
First, I wanted to let you know that there will be an AI-generated image of a Patagonian or Tehuelche.
Second, I wanted to ask what you think of these episodes.]