PREVIOUSLY.
[I let the silence fall for a moment, ensuring that each of my words was burned into his mind. Edward's gaze shifted from fear to a profound complexity, tinged with an almost reverential respect. He knew I had the naval and land power to sink any fleet England sent.
"However, I am not a tyrant who denies progress, Edward. If England wishes to expand into territories that do not belong to the Suaza Kingdom or our allies, I will not stop them. In fact," I smiled slightly, delivering the final thrust, "the Suaza Kingdom itself will assist them in their expeditions and settlements. We will be your guides and your partners. But it will be done under my rules and with our restrictions. Is that clear?"]
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Year 13 of the SuaChie Calendar, Fourth Month (June 1495).
Dawn City (Santiago de Cuba, Cuba), Caribá Region (FRFI).
Chuta's Personal Office, Stone Manor.
Edward looked at me as if I had just proposed walking on water.
To a European nobleman, land was a zero-sum game; what one gained, another lost. For a monarch with overwhelming military power to give a 'free pass' to another crown to settle on his very own continent bordered on madness in his eyes.
Silence stretched across the office, dense and heavy. I maintained a serene expression, an inscrutable mask I had perfected over the years, as I watched the whirlwind of emotions cross the ambassador's face.
Finally, Edward's chest rose and fell in a long, shuddering sigh, as if expelling the fear that had paralyzed him moments ago. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, defeated by his own conscience.
"I must confess something to you, Your Highness," he began, his voice barely a hoarse murmur that contrasted with his diplomatic bearing. "By direct order of His Majesty, Henry VII, several ships departed in secret. They began to seek shorter routes to reach Cipangu by their own means... in case the Joint Expedition failed."
I nodded slightly, showing no surprise.
"That was ordered almost at the exact time our Joint Expedition departed, wasn't it?" I deduced, before muttering to myself. "A year ago. In the fourth month of our Year 12... June 1494."
Edward swallowed hard and nodded, astonished by my precision.
"Indeed. But..." he hastened to add, leaning forward as if to justify himself, "now that the Joint Expedition has returned crowned with success barely a month ago, bringing with it the marvels they promised, I... I want to believe the King will halt these solitary naval operations... They no longer make sense."
I stared at him, letting a humorless smile touch my lips.
"Edward, we are both statesmen. You know as well as I do that a king's ambition is not sated by a single triumph; it feeds on it," I told him, my tone firm but devoid of accusation. "I highly doubt those expeditions will stop. On the contrary, the success of the route toward the Sunset (Pacific) will only ignite England's thirst for exploration. And I have no problem with that. It is precisely for that reason the Suaza Kingdom prefers to guide you. If you are going to venture into the Great Quyca, you will do so by our light, not blindly stumbling into our allies."
Edward leaned back in his chair, processing the magnitude of my words. His eyes traveled to the immense map on the desk. I could see the gears turning in his mind. He understood, at last, that to establish any beachhead, any port, or colony on this vast continent, he would inevitably have to deal with the Suaza Kingdom.
We were the wall and the gate. And, thank God for him, in this moment I was offering him the key as an ally.
"I appreciate the gesture, Your Highness, more than words can express," Edward said, recovering his diplomatic composure, albeit with palpable sincerity. "I am convinced my King will gladly accept this guidance. Especially..." a small, knowing smile appeared on his face, "knowing that soon our houses might be family. That is, without mentioning the incalculable wealth both our kingdoms will obtain from trade with the Far East across the Sunset Ocean."
"Good. Then let us speak of the foundations of this agreement," I said, resting both hands on the edge of the desk to lean over the map. "The first and most unbreakable: I demand the absolute protection of the native peoples present in the areas where England chooses to settle. You must maintain friendly and commercial relations. No massacres, no conquests by fire and sword."
Edward nodded slowly, though his brow furrowed, shadowed by practical doubt.
"Your Highness, our intentions will be the best, I assure you. But the clash of tongues and customs... misunderstanding often breeds conflict without either party desiring it. How will we ensure such friendly relations if we cannot even speak with them?"
"We will assist with the communication," I replied immediately. "You already know the caliber of the linguists in our kingdom. They have deciphered languages across the length and breadth of this continent. Our experts will accompany your vanguard to ensure words do not turn into arrows."
The relief on Edward's face was evident, but before he could offer his thanks, I raised a finger.
"Furthermore, the Suaza Kingdom will participate as a 'shareholder' in this English expansion."
Edward blinked, expectant.
"We are not a charity, Edward. Assisting you logistically will cost us resources and time. In exchange, the supplies and aid we provide may be settled with a portion of the local resources you extract, or paid in silver and European goods of interest to us."
Far from being offended, I noticed the ambassador's shoulders relax even more. To the mind of a fifteenth-century European nobleman, pure altruism was suspicious, almost unnatural. A free offer always hid a dagger. The fact that I was putting a commercial price on it, paradoxically, gave him confidence and legitimized the deal.
"That is fair and reasonable," Edward agreed, nodding vigorously. "What manner of material aid would the Suaza Kingdom be willing to provide?"
"Vital supplies," I listed, gently tapping the wood with each point. "Grain for your first winters, high-quality, pre-processed timber to build your forts, specialized manpower for construction, and, most importantly, our medicines. You do not know the diseases on this side of the world; without our apothecary, half your settlers would die before raising their first church... The same goes for any illnesses the natives might contract."
"I thank you in advance, Your Highness. You will save thousands of English lives."
"So be it," I continued, hardening my voice for the next clause. "Now, the final condition: forced slavery is strictly forbidden... Just as we practice in the Suaza Kingdom, servitude is only permitted as a penal punishment for criminals who have committed exceedingly grave acts, and for durations dictated by the law. No one, absolutely no one, shall be born a slave nor captured to become one."
Edward frowned, genuinely troubled. In Europe, the business was changing.
The image of the 'Ethiopian' and African slaves that Portugal had been trading in its ports for years was fresh in the minds of all the courts. It was a source of labor that expanding empires took for granted.
I saw his internal conflict, so I decided to play the most powerful card in his own deck.
"I understand your concern regarding labor, Edward," I said, lowering my voice to adopt a confidential air. "But let us clarify something. The protection I demand over the native peoples does not encompass their religion. You, the English, will have absolute freedom to preach your Christian faith to the locals."
Edward looked at me, confused by the apparent change of subject, but I kept my gaze fixed, letting my next sentence float in the air with all its theological and political weight.
"And a kingdom as devout as England... would not harm or enslave its own fellow believers, would it?"
Edward's eyes widened. Realization struck him like a thunderbolt. I had just bound his hands with the chains of his own Church.
If the English converted the natives to Christianity—something they would inherently do out of divine mandate and cultural pride—justifying their enslavement before the Pope or before God Himself would be an unforgivable sin, a contradiction no court could publicly uphold. It was a flawless chess move that used European evangelization as a shield for the indigenous peoples.
Edward let out a shaky breath, looking at me with something closely resembling reverence.
"You are... truly cunning, Your Highness," he murmured, surrendering to the brilliance of the diplomatic trap. "And exceedingly wise... I am certain our king will accept this condition."
"I am glad to hear it."
"Then..." Edward stood up and approached the desk, his eyes devouring the immense, charted map. "Speaking of settlements, what location would Your Highness allocate for England to plant its flag?"
I slid my hand over the tanned leather of the map, passing over the intricate lines of the Suaza Kingdom, the trade routes, and the lands of our allies. I moved my finger north, far to the north.
"There are vast lands in the Northern Quyca," I explained, drawing imaginary circles over what would one day be the territory of North America. "Massive, fertile lands, rich in resources, which the Suaza Kingdom could not fully annex without investing decades of effort and an obscene number of resources that we currently need on other fronts."
"It is a continent unto itself..." Edward whispered, fascinated. "What region would you recommend to us, then?"
I thought about it for a moment.
Thus far, my kingdom's influence and detailed exploration had reached, at most, the coasts of what in my past life I knew as North Carolina. But I knew that sending the English there would place them too close to our future borders. They needed a place with a climate they could tolerate, hardwoods for their ships, and sufficient isolation.
My index finger traced the eastern coast, ascending past the warm territories, crossing bays half-drawn by our explorers, until stopping at a rugged, deeply indented coastline, much farther north.
"Here," I said, tapping the exact spot where the future state of Maine lay. "This would be an excellent place for you. We have explored it by sea; we know it is full of deep forests, coasts rich in fishing, and land ready to be worked. But we have never settled there due to the distances... It is the perfect place for England to put down roots."
Edward leaned over the massive table, resting both hands on either side of the parchment as his eyes devoured the exact spot my finger had just marked. To his European mind, accustomed to distances measured in days by horseback across narrow fiefdoms, that place on the map must have seemed like the end of the world.
It was obscenely far from Dawn City and from what he considered the heart of our kingdom. But in his gaze, I saw the gears turning: distance meant isolation, yes, but it also meant autonomy. An undeniable advantage for an incipent colony seeking to forge its own identity without the suffocating shadow of my armies breathing down its neck.
"It is... a vast territory, to be sure," he murmured, his eyes tracing the rugged coastline until a doubt seemed to cross his mind. "Your Highness, forgive my geographical ignorance of this immense continent, but... at what 'latitude' does this place lie if we were to draw a straight line across the Dawn Ocean? Where is it located in relation to England?"
I couldn't stop a wry, almost predatory smile from forming on my lips. I knew exactly where his question was going.
"Practically at the same latitude, Edward," I replied, crossing my arms. "If you were to sail in a straight-line east from that point, you would end up crashing into the northern coasts of France or the south of your own island."
The effect was immediate and almost comical. The ambassador's shoulders slumped visibly. The slight tan he had acquired over these past nine months seemed to pale at the phantom memory of London's freezing fogs.
During all this time, Edward had grown spoiled by our tropical paradise, by winters that barely required a cotton tunic, and the eternal sun that blessed our lands. The prospect of once again leading his people in a climate of frost, rain, and numbed bones did not amuse him in the least.
He opened his mouth, frowning, surely about to argue or subtly suggest a territory a little further south, closer to our warm Dawn City.
"Edward," I interrupted with a soft but firm voice, cutting off his complaint before it was born. "The climate may share certain similarities with England's, it is true, but at the same time, you will discover it is a completely different world. Harsher winters, but summers of an abundance your island has never seen. Furthermore, you must understand that this is only a starting point."
I took a step toward him, tapping the map with my knuckles.
"The success and expansion of that colony will not depend on the weather, but on the English Crown's ability to draw the local peoples under its banner and cooperate with them. If they isolate themselves to shiver in their forts, they will fail. If they integrate, they will prosper."
The ambassador cleared his throat, looking away for a second. A faint blush tinted his cheeks as he realized he had been read so easily; his yearning for comfort had nearly clouded his diplomatic judgment. Yet, proving why he had been chosen for this post, he quickly composed himself.
"You are absolutely right, Your Highness. I thank you for your frankness and your... consideration," he said, straightening his back once more. "Speaking of integration, does the Suaza Kingdom possess any information about the peoples who inhabit those northern lands?"
In silence, I turned my back to him and walked toward one of the large mahogany shelves that covered the east wall of my office. The scent of cured paper, leather, and wax flooded my senses as my fingers brushed past the spines of classified reports. I pulled out a heavy, bound document and returned to the table, dropping it in front of him.
"Our explorers and linguists have classified the inhabitants of that immense region into two major cultural families," I explained, opening the document to a page filled with annotations and sketches of faces bearing war paint. "In the interior, among the great forests and lakes, the Iroquois dominate. And along the coast, where you would disembark, the Algonquians are settled."
Edward leaned in, fascinated by the sketches.
"To date, the Kingdom has had sporadic and commercial contact with the southernmost Algonquians, those bordering the northern edges of our sphere of influence," I continued. "But listen to me well, Edward: do not make the European mistake of thinking they are 'a single kingdom' or a centralized monarchy. Each of these names actually groups together a vast network of peoples, clans, and tribes, bound by linguistic ties, but with radically different cultures, alliances, and enmities. Providing you with exact tactical information on who rules each bay would require direct contact that we have not yet established... That will be your task."
Edward nodded slowly. Far from being intimidated by the lack of a clear hierarchy, I saw his eyes shine with the anticipation of discovery and diplomacy. He was eager for the colossal enterprise that both kingdoms could build in those 'virgin' lands.
"I understand the magnitude of the challenge, Your Highness," Edward said, closing the document respectfully and taking a step back to offer a deep bow. "I will draft and send this information to London immediately. Both the generous conditions of this settlement proposal... and your pleasing response to Princess Margaret's marriage proposal."
"Do so," I nodded, returning a slight inclination of my head. "And, Edward, do not forget to suggest to His Majesty that he accelerate preparations for the joint expeditions, or failing that, for these new private expeditions."
I offered a businessman's smile.
"Remind him that our shipyards in the Sunset have vessels ready. We can sell or lease to our allies the necessary ships to cross the ocean with far greater safety than your caravels."
"Of course, Your Highness. It will be the first point in my letter," Edward assured me with a knowing smile. He bowed once more and, with an energetic stride, left the office.
The heavy echo of the wooden door closing marked the end of the diplomatic performance. I dropped my smile immediately. The silence that followed lasted barely a couple of minutes, but in that brief span, my mind was already recalculating the global balance of power.
Then, a couple of sharp knocks, devoid of any flourish, echoed against the wood.
"Enter," I said, returning to my chair.
Zasaba crossed the threshold. My head of intelligence and one of my most ruthless strategists moved with the silent lethality of a panther. His face, marked by the scars of a life dedicated to the shadows and the survival of the kingdom, was a mask of absolute coldness. He closed the door behind him and walked to the chair the Englishman had just vacated.
We both sat face to face. The air in the office shifted drastically; European courtesy evaporated, replaced by a dense, raw, and pragmatic tension.
I didn't need him to ask what we had talked about. Zasaba already knew. He was my shadow. This topic, of allowing Europeans to plant their dirty boots on our continent under our conditions, was a debate we had held in this very room until the early hours of the morning on countless occasions.
To Zasaba, inviting the enemy into your home, no matter how strictly you dictated the rules, was an aberration. He did not at all appreciate the idea of having neighbors so "radical," fanatically religious, and militarily strong so close to us.
His reasoning was flawless: we already had a continental powder keg to deal with.
The Mexica, in the north, fiercely opposed our policy of openness and religious syncretism, clinging to their altars of blood; the Maya, who until recently had been fragmented, were reunifying into a dangerous coalition under the direct influence of Mexica power. And to the south, the colossal Inca Empire watched us in deathly silence, studying our every move from the heights of the Andes.
Adding the English to this equation was, according to Zasaba, playing with fire in a haystack.
"In the end..." Zasaba began, his voice deep, icy, and draped in a solemnity that bordered on insubordination, yet never crossed the line of respect, "did you decide to carry out that plan, leader?"
I looked him in the eyes, holding his intense, dark gaze.
"Yes. I did."
I noted the stiffness in his jaw. I knew his objections by heart, so I preempted them, maintaining a steady, rational tone.
"I know what you're thinking, Zasaba. But if we deny them passage, they will come anyway, in secret, driven by desperation and greed. If they do it that way, they will land anywhere, spark massacres before our explorers find them, and the chaos will be uncontrollable. I prefer to be the one to put the collar on them. I prefer to know exactly where they are laying their foundations. And by sending them to the Northern Quyca... we ensure they are as far away as possible from our vital core, the Southern Quyca. We will keep them isolated and dependent."
Zasaba nodded slowly. He had heard this justification before and could not refute its cold logic, even if his hunter's instinct loathed it. He leaned slightly forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Fine. The collar is on the English dog," he conceded, without a shred of enthusiasm. "But answer me this, leader: What will happen when the Castilians hear of this? Because they will. Their spies in London will run to Madrid with the news. When the Spanish demand their own piece of the pie... will we have to guide them by the hand to another part of the Great Quyca as well? Will we fill the north with Europeans until they outnumber us?"
I leaned back against my chair and let out a sigh. This too was one of the branches of our usual crisis tree. The global chessboard never stopped.
"Spain is a different animal," I replied, massaging my temple. "If they come to demand territories, we could simply leave them some strip of frozen, inhospitable land far to the south, at the edges of the Southern Quyca, where the cold limits their natural expansion."
I paused, letting the true strategy, the most twisted one, form on my lips.
"Or better yet, Zasaba... we can let Spain and Portugal bleed each other dry fighting for the monopoly of the southern route of the Guanza Quyca (Africa). If we can get them to focus all their imperial greed on skirting Africa and dominating its coasts toward India, they will forget about the northern Dawn for decades. We'll keep them busy killing each other over spices, while we consolidate our continent."
The coldness in Zasaba's eyes softened imperceptibly. The muscles in his neck relaxed. Knowing that I already had branches planned to counter the domino effect of my decision seemed to placate the paranoid beast inside him.
He let out a long sigh and reached a hand into the folds of his clothes. He extracted a sealed leather cylinder, vastly different from Edward's diplomatic paper, and handed it to me across the desk.
"The Guanza Quyca plan will depend on how well we move our pieces there, leader," he said, his tone returning to the clinical efficiency of espionage. "This just arrived. It is the intelligence sent by Chewa from Guanzauba City (Santo Antão Island, Cape Verde)."
I took the cylinder, feeling the weight of the information. But Zasaba wasn't finished. From the same sleeve, he produced a second parchment, this one wrapped in black cloth and sealed with dark, uncrested wax.
"And this," he added, his eyes darkening once again, "is a direct, secret report from Apqua. The situation requires your immediate reading."
.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
Thank you all for your support. Let's get straight to the chapter comments.
CHAPTER COMMENTS
First, I realized that the comment on the previous chapter was from this one, hahaha.
Anyway, there are the reasons why Chuta is going to implement this guided colonization.
On another note, part of this chapter connects with what we were seeing in the Echoes chapters. The idea is that if you find any errors, please let me know. Also, I want to mention that the decisions the European kingdoms are making are very similar to the modus operandi they used in the original course of history.
AUTHOR'S COMMENTS
First, today there will be images.
I have a question: would you like to see some images of the battlefields?
For example, on the Mexica front, there have already been some minor encounters, simple skirmishes, but perhaps you'd like to see how they look represented on the map.
Although I must say it doesn't contribute much to the overall story.
On the other hand, I still have at least 5 chapters already scheduled. I'm feeling fired up.
Oh, and I also wanted to mention that some chapters of Echoes or Chuta's Ordinary Days are coming soon.
There's quite a bit of research involved, and you might find yourselves interested in some cultures you probably weren't familiar with.
---
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.]