Day 10-Cozcacuauhtli, month of Tlacaxipehualiztli, in the year 10-Calli.
Year 7 of the SuaChie Calendar.
Great Temple, Tenochtitlan.
The stillness of the Great Temple was a sanctuary for Moctezuma. Though young, the solemnity of the place was a weight he carried with grace and seriousness. The air smelled of freshly burned copal, and the echo of recent ceremonies still resonated in his ears.
Seated on a rush mat, the young prince studied, for a second time, the ancient codices of the god of war. The symbols and narratives were a sacred puzzle that only those of his lineage could decipher.
He remembered the words of his tutor, an old priest whose face was as wrinkled as a worn codex: 'The interpretations of these writings are not given to just any man, Your Eminence. Only to those chosen by the gods to guide our people.'
These words were his guide, the reason he delved into prophecies of catastrophes, into the offerings for victory, and, above all, into those mysterious sections that spoke of the arrival of divine beings on earth.
As he traced one of those unfinished sections with his finger, an assistant, a junior priest, approached his study area. He prostrated himself on the ground, his face a mixture of reverence and urgency.
"Your Eminence," the priest said, his voice a whisper that dared not break the temple's quiet.
Moctezuma gestured with his hand, indicating for him to rise and speak.
"Noble Moctezuma, I have news of the foreigners who have been trading with us," the priest said, his voice gaining a little confidence. "They say they come from the south, and their eagerness to learn of our religion is great. They have requested permission to study our gods."
Moctezuma's heart skipped a beat. Their eagerness to know his deities resonated with the prophecies before him. For a moment, an image of men in the clothes of gods formed in his mind.
Could this be the arrival the codices predicted?
He quickly dismissed the idea. He himself had dealt with these men. Their clothes were cleaner, their tools different, but, at the end of the day, they were mortals.
"How many are there?" Moctezuma asked, his voice, though youthful, carrying a hint of authority.
"Almost fifty, Your Eminence. They have been trading with our merchants and have brought great offerings to our gods."
"What have they brought?" Moctezuma's curiosity was piqued. The Mexica valued feathers, jade, and sacrifices, not the shining metal the foreigners used.
"Large quantities of gold, glistening jewels, and a ceremonial liquor we have not seen before. It is sweet, and its effects are... pleasant. They say it is a gift from their gods."
Moctezuma fell silent, a fleeting thought crossing his mind. Gold, the metal they used for their simplest objects, and a lifeless liquor they claimed was a gift from gods. He looked at his hands.
He, like those of his lineage, was born to guide his people. He was the chosen one. And these foreigners, despite their curiosities and gifts, were simply merchants. Nothing more.
6 months later.
As time passed, Moctezuma had risen in the priestly hierarchy, and now stood in the temple of Huitzilopochtli not only as a prince, but as a high priest. Soon, he would become the High Priest of Tenochtitlan, a position of great prestige and power.
The Huey Tlatoani Ahuízotl had directly supported his learning, recognizing not only his intellect for the codices but also his innate ability for leadership. Ahuízotl had entrusted him with the task of studying the ancient tactics of war, recorded in the war codices, so that, at the opportune moment, he would become a general and bring more glory to the great city.
Moctezuma was in a room separated from the temple's bustle, engrossed in the writings. He concentrated on battle formations, methods for cornering the enemy, and the importance of morale in combat. In his mind, he visualized every movement, every strategy, imagining himself at the forefront of Tenochtitlan's warriors.
Out of pure curiosity, he looked up from the scrolls. Down the main corridor, he saw a group of men in white robes, adorned with jewels and colorful feathers he did not recognize. They walked with an elegance that contrasted with the merchants he had seen before, and their aura was not of traders, but of people who belonged in a sacred place.
Intrigued, he gestured to a junior priest nearby. The priest approached with due reverence and prostrated himself before him.
"Your Eminence," the priest said, his head bowed. "How may I help you?"
"Who are those men?" Moctezuma asked, without taking his eyes off them.
"They are the guests from the south, Your Eminence," the priest replied, his voice filled with contained awe. "They say they come from the Suaza Kingdom. They are being guided by the nobles for an offering to the gods."
Moctezuma, without saying a word, dismissed the priest. The simple fact that foreigners were interested in their religion, and even more, were making an offering, was unprecedented. This was a matter that required his attention.
The next day.
By Moctezuma's order, a meeting was arranged. The encounter took place in a small temple room, with light filtering through the cracks, giving it an air of mystery. The men from the Suaza Kingdom sat across from him, their attire impeccable and their faces serene.
Moctezuma, in a serious tone, began the meeting.
"I am Moctezuma, priest of Tenochtitlan," he said, his voice filled with the authority that had been given to him. "I have heard that you have a great interest in our gods. What is the reason for this approach?"
One of the priests from the Suaza Kingdom, a man with a kind face and serene eyes, spoke.
"Your Eminence, we are here by order of our leader. He wishes for us to build more friendly relations with your people, to learn of your religion, and to share knowledge with you. Our kingdom desires peace."
The priest's words were clear, but Moctezuma was in shock. Not because of the words themselves, but because of the language in which they were spoken. He had spoken Nahuatl, a perfect Nahuatl, without the accent of the coastal merchants he had heard in his youth.
This was the first time that distant kingdoms had been interested in their religion, much less made offerings in its name. How could a foreigner speak his language with such fluency? What was this 'Suaza Kingdom'?
"Sincerity?" Moctezuma questioned, his voice full of skepticism. "A king does not send his men on such a long journey out of simple curiosity."
"Our intentions are sincere, Your Eminence," the priest replied with unwavering serenity. "Our leader, the Young Chuta, invites you to the Suaza Kingdom so that you may see the greatness of our people with your own eyes. If you accept, our leader offers you all the necessary supplies for your journey."
The priest continued, and the words that came from his mouth were like a punch to Moctezuma.
"We offer weapons of steel, food, and our ceremonial liquor. We only want you to know that we come in peace."
Moctezuma fell silent, his mind working at a thousand miles an hour. The sincerity of the group was palpable, and the offer was so grand that only a powerful kingdom could make it.
The resources they were willing to give, the fluency of their language, and the great mystery behind this kingdom filled him with a curiosity he could not ignore. He accepted the invitation, knowing that his life, and that of his people, would change forever.
Five months later.
Several months had passed since Moctezuma accepted the invitation from the messengers of the Suaza Kingdom. Moctezuma was aboard a gigantic boat, or as the men from the south called it, a 'Tequendama'. The vessel was a marvel.
To his surprise, instead of the small wooden boats they were used to, a true wooden titan awaited him. The weeks-long journey across the turbulent ocean waters had become a simple stroll. Moctezuma remembered the first time he saw this ship, a floating colossus that defied the waves with an ease his own boats could never have had.
Seated on the deck, he felt the rocking of the ship, a rhythmic movement that was almost like a whisper, unlike the violent blows their own vessels received at sea. The journey, which in their minds would have been an odyssey, was so calm that he sometimes forgot he was on the ocean.
One month later, Central City, Year 8 of the SuaChie Calendar.
After finishing the sea voyage and arriving at a great port, the land journey began. This had been long, crossing rivers, jungles, and mountains, until they reached the city they called Central City.
Moctezuma stopped for a moment, his eyes unable to believe what they saw.
The houses of wood and stone, built with a symmetry he found fascinating, rose on the hills. As he entered the city, his astonishment grew and grew.
The people walked the streets with a joy he had never seen. Everyone wore impeccable clothes, made of a fabric he didn't recognize, and their adornments were of a metal that was neither gold nor silver. The tools they held in their hands shone under the sun, with a metallic gleam he was unfamiliar with.
The smells of food from street stalls flooded him, a mixture of spices and flavors that made his stomach rumble. The variety of products entering and leaving the city was incredible; there were baskets full of exotic fruits, vibrant colored ceramics, and fine textiles.
He observed the city, noting that the houses were well-built, with a design and materials very different from what they used in Tenochtitlan. Then, he found the temple, which they called a Basilica, which, although not as large as his Great Temple under construction, was clearly being built with more layers, just as they had done with their temple.
Moctezuma supposed that, in a few years, this temple could be as large and grand as his own, which filled him with a sense of challenge.
Several days later.
Moctezuma left the capital; the journey back had begun. The road back was like a fog in his mind. He only remembered the conversation he had with that child who led the kingdom. Chuta.
An 8-year-old child who spoke with a wisdom that surpassed his elders. He had offered his kingdom a commercial alliance, an agreement that would give them access to the knowledge of the Suaza Kingdom, their metals, their tools, and their resources, but in exchange, the southern kingdom wanted access to their lands, their culture, some basic resources, and slaves.
The proposal was logical, beneficial, but the feeling that it was a new form of power unsettled him.
And then, his strange perspective on the gods.
The child had spoken of the gods, his own and those his people believed in, as a single pantheon. Gods who guided all the people of this world, but that, due to the difference in language and proximity to the gods, each of their kingdoms called them in a different way, but that there were many more common points than differences.
Moctezuma was left speechless. Doubts settled in his mind, replacing the conviction he had about his own religion.
Was the path he had chosen the right one?
Moctezuma sat on the deck of a large boat, his mind in a whirlwind of thoughts. The worry he felt was like a dark cloud hovering over him.
He did not fear war, he did not fear death, but he feared uncertainty. He had seen a different world, a world not based on conquest and sacrifice, but on commerce and curiosity.
And for the first time in his life, Moctezuma felt small.
.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
Here we have the first perspective of a real historical figure.
Moctezuma, as I previously announced, will have his own chapter, although it was actually three, and I separated it into two.
This chapter is a sample of what these characters' perspectives will be like. However, it will differ greatly from the other two perspectives that appear in the following chapters because this character has direct contact with the kingdom.
On the other hand, the other two characters will not have direct contact, at least not for now.
By the way, Moctezuma's other chapter deals with internal Aztec matters and some historical context and character development, so it will come later, after reaching 100 chapters.
By the way, did you notice the Aztec calendar date at the beginning?
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Read my other novels.
#The Walking Dead: Vision of the Future. (Chapter 75)
#The Walking Dead: Emily's Metamorphosis (Chapter 22)
#The Walking Dead: Patient 0 - Lyra File (Chapter 8)
You can find them on my profile.]