At the house of Chewa's son, Northern Quyca.
The air was cool on the terrace, announcing the arrival of night. The sky was full of brilliant stars, a dark blanket speckled with points of light that stretched to the horizon.
The conversation with Nezahualpilli had taken an unexpected turn, and the calm of the setting contrasted with the tension that was beginning to build inside me. A cricket sang in the distance, its sound crisp in the night's silence.
"Nezahualpilli," I asked him, lowering my voice a little. "This information you just gave me, about the freed slaves... do other nobles know about it? Does the Huey Tlatoani, Ahuízotl, know?"
Nezahualpilli took a moment to respond, his gaze fixed on the stars.
"No one seems to know this. Or if they do, they don't care," he replied with a calm that surprised me. "The nobles of my kingdom are busy with their riches, their armies. The lives of common people don't concern them. Besides, you are not here to take territories or for personal gain... I see in your eyes that you do this for the good of the people."
Despite his reassuring words, a thorn of worry lodged in my mind. Nezahualpilli was a valuable ally, but his vision was that of a poet. I was a leader of a kingdom that was just beginning to rise. Diplomacy was a delicate game, and any mistake could ruin the relationships that took us years to build. I imagined the disaster scenarios: accusations of subversion, the rejection of other empires, the distrust that would be sown in the Aztec court.
"Even so, if they found out, it could complicate our diplomatic relations. Do you think we could ruin the peace we have achieved?" I asked him, conflicted.
Nezahualpilli let out a dry laugh.
"Young Chuta, don't worry about that. Believe me, the other nobles would not care about common people. For them, it's a trivial matter," he replied, hinting that they wouldn't even notice if the common people around them were once slaves. "Their interests are trade and wealth, not the freedom of a slave."
Just as I was about to respond, the night's silence was interrupted. Chewa's son appeared on the terrace, and next to him came a local man. The man captured my attention. He was of robust build, with the characteristic clothes and ornaments of the Penascola people, whom the explorers had told us about. He wore an animal skin over his shoulders and his face was painted with dark lines.
His posture was tense; his eyes fixed on me.
Chewa's son introduced him to me in a slightly uncomfortable tone.
"Young Chuta, this is the War Leader of the Penascolas... He came to see you."
The man approached me; his steps were firm and the air filled with a palpable tension. I could see my bodyguards, members of the Explorers Division, their hands sliding towards their weapons, ready for action.
The War Leader, without stopping, looked me directly in the eyes, his gaze revealing no emotion. It was a look of evaluation, of a warrior sizing up his opponent before a battle. However, something in his body language, in the way his body remained relaxed despite the apparent threat, told me he wasn't there to fight.
His intention was that of a warrior seeking a peaceful encounter, but on his terms.
I raised a hand to reassure my men. My gesture was subtle, but my bodyguards, who knew me well, lowered their guard. Calm returned to the terrace, although the air was still dense with expectation. The War Leader looked at me and spoke in his native tongue, a series of strange and loud sounds to everyone.
"Lord of the moon and the sun, leader of the waters and the earth. I am the warrior of the riverbank people. You are welcome in our land. But you must respect our people and our things. We are not servants. We are a free people."
I remained silent, taking in his words, his frankness, the pride in his voice. Then, Chewa's son, who had been by my side, hurried to translate.
"Young Chuta, the leader says he has received a pleasant welcome in our village and that they respect you for it. He..."
I interrupted him with a look. I looked at him in a way that told him he didn't have to continue. I saw him stand there embarrassed, his face flushing from his failed translation attempt. I turned to the War Leader and saw a flash of surprise in his eyes when he saw that I had not accepted the translation.
"I thank you for your invitation and your frankness," I said, my voice calm and confident, and to everyone's surprise, I did it in his language. "I understand what you have said, and it is an honor. I believe I will be able to visit your village soon."
The echo of my words filled the silence. The air seemed to stop completely. The anticipation became so dense you could almost cut it with a knife.
Chewa's son was left speechless, his mouth half-forming a word that never came out. Nezahualpilli's eyes widened in astonishment that erased his usual composure. My own companions looked at each other, whispering and nodding, a mix of pride and surprise painted on their faces.
My skill with languages, the result of my years of study, wasn't something I showed off often, as I didn't travel much, but it was a powerful tool for building bridges. Especially on occasions like this.
The War Leader, for his part, looked at me with an expression that shifted from surprise to respect. He had expected a response through a translator. He had expected the arrogance of a man of power. Instead, he found a man who spoke his language, understood his concerns, and showed him respect.
With a brief bow, the War Leader withdrew. I remained on the terrace, the silence of the night a witness to what had just happened. Diplomacy was not just a matter of words and treaties. It was a matter of understanding, of showing respect, of speaking the language of the people. The journey was just beginning, and I had already faced a new kind of challenge. But I was ready to face it.
Two days later.
The morning sun was already high when our entourage departed. The path had taken us from the river and then through a dense forest, and the air smelled of damp earth and wild life. I went with a select group of explorers, some priests, assistants, and, to my surprise, Turey, who had joined the expedition at the last moment.
As we walked, Turey's face lit up.
I realized she seemed enchanted; her connection with the natural world was undeniable. Small animals, from squirrels to bright-colored birds I had never seen, approached her, drawn by an energy that seemed to flow from within her. A raccoon stopped beside her, sniffed her with curiosity, and stayed there for a few seconds, as if it had known her all its life.
"Look, Chuta," she said, her eyes gleaming with fascination. "They seem curious. It's as if they're telling me I'm welcome."
I smiled. Turey's connection with nature had always fascinated me. In a kingdom where technology and science were the priority, her gift was a reminder of the beauty and mystery of the natural world.
Upon arriving, we were received by the War Leader I had met in the village two days ago. His name, in the local language, was Standing Bear. He wore a bear skin over his shoulders, and his eyes were as sharp as a predator's. The initial tension from our meeting on the terrace had dissipated.
"Young Chuta," he said, his voice thundering. "Welcome to our home. The earth is happy to have you here."
Standing Bear gave us a tour of the village.
The wooden houses were built with a rustic simplicity and beauty that reminded me of the kingdom's first settlements. The air smelled of firewood smoke and food cooking inside. We saw young people training, women fetching water, and a sense of community that filled my heart. We passed by a sacred place, with carved stones and animal totems.
As we walked, my eyes stopped at a clearing where a couple of young people were practicing with spears. Their movements were agile, and their bodies strong and muscular. One of them was the boy who had accompanied Standing Bear at our first meeting. He moved with the grace of a feline, and the shine in his eyes showed complete concentration.
Standing Bear noticed my gaze and, with a smile, turned to me.
"I see you are interested in the training of my young hunters. Would you like to join them, Young Chuta?"
The question took me by surprise. My mind, accustomed to calculating risks, raced.
A test of strength? Or a subtle trap?
I felt all the eyes of the village fall on me. What would happen if I lost, if my honor would be tarnished? But seeing Standing Bear's expectant look, I understood that this was not a test of combat, but a test of character.
The diplomacy I know from the future is useless here. The Penascolas valued strength and respect.
"Yes," I said, my voice confident. "I would be delighted."
I heard the gasps of astonishment from my men. I saw how the priests, with their serious faces, relaxed and whispered to one another. Even Turey looked at me, with an expression of surprise and curiosity that made me smile.
Standing Bear smiled, a genuine smile that revealed his satisfaction.
"My son, Son of the Bear, will be your opponent," he said, his voice full of pride.
I prepared myself. I took off my travel tunics, feeling the cool morning air on my skin, and a local warrior handed me a spear. I gripped it firmly. It was heavier than what I was used to, but the balance was perfect. My fingers adjusted to the wood, finding an instinctive comfort.
I stood in front of the boy, now known as Son of the Bear. His eyes, once full of concentration, looked at me with a mixture of respect and challenge. The moment for diplomacy had ended. Now, only the spear and honor would speak.
.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
I hope you're all well; I'm in much better spirits now.
Chuta continues talking to the noble Aztec, and finds a kindred spirit in him. And for those who forgot the Unnecessary Fact about him, I remind you that he's the person I mentioned who has more than 10 documented children, so his connection with Chuta is much more personal. Hahaha.
On the other hand, Chuta travels to a Penascola village, since they were previously in one of the Chewa settlements. And there he learns about local life, and how, in some ways, it resembled what the people of South Quyca lived, or as we know it today, South America.
And yes, Chuta's little sparring match is coming up; the last one was a few years ago, at the kingdom's sporting events.
IMPORTANT
You, the loyal readers who follow this novel, are partially responsible for my speedy recovery after my computer crashed. Therefore, I decided to add an extra chapter, which will be published tomorrow, to thank you for your support.
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Read my other novels.
#The Walking Dead: Vision of the Future (Chapter 73)
#The Walking Dead: Emily's Metamorphosis (Chapter 21)
#The Walking Dead: Patient 0 - Lyra File (Chapter 6)
You can find them on my profile.]