Muisca Territory, Year 1 of the SuaChie Calendar.
The sun had barely dawned over the horizon when Chewa, a man whose skin was weathered by the sun and rivers, paddled his humble boat toward the village of Hunza.
Chewa voyaged to the village to meet a baby who, in the future, would become a guide for all the nearby peoples. He had heard whispers in his village to the west of Muisca territory. They spoke of a baby blessed by the gods, a being whose arrival had been foretold, a bearer of divine knowledge.
As a devout man, raised on the creation myths and the veneration of the gods, Chewa could not resist the calling. He left his life of ferrying goods along the rivers and undertook the journey, his heart beating with a blend of faith and curiosity.
Upon arriving in Hunza, the air smelled of damp earth and burnt herbs, an aroma that accompanied the priests' morning rituals. But something was different.
The inhabitants' woolen tunics seemed finer, woven with a care he did not recall from other villages. In the market, the stalls overflowed with new dishes: ground maize in unfamiliar forms, meats seasoned with spices that awakened the senses. The artisans, bent over their tables, used tools with subtle but ingenious modifications: knives with more ergonomic handles, looms that seemed to speed up their work.
Chewa, his eyes wide with wonder, felt that this place vibrated with a change he could not explain, but which he attributed to the child of prophecy.
Before seeking out the baby, Chewa made his way to the priests' house, a stone building adorned with carvings of suns and moons. The place was bustling with activity: men and women entered and exited, their faces illuminated by a contained excitement.
He overheard fragments of conversations about 'new scriptures,' not simple images carved in temples, but something called 'letters' that promised to capture knowledge. Intrigued, Chewa joined a group learning this new system.
One week later.
Chewa was engrossed, tracing clumsy lines on a clay tablet under the guidance of a priest.
"This is magic," he thought, as he wrote his own name for the first time.
The idea that his thoughts could be recorded, intact forever, filled him with an almost childlike marvel. When he learned that the baby, Young Chuta, was the one who had brought this knowledge, his devotion transformed into reverence.
Four months later.
Chewa sat in a circle of apprentices, across from a child just over a year old who could barely stand. Chuta, with large, bright eyes, tried to speak clearly, but his words sometimes became babbling that made his cheeks blush. The scene was almost comical, but no one laughed.
The child explained, with a mix of gestures and broken phrases, how to build larger ships, capable of traversing seas and rivers with hundreds of people. Chewa, who had spent his life in small boats, felt the ground tremble beneath him.
"Ships that cross oceans," Chuta murmured, and though his voice broke into a childish warble, his eyes gleamed with a certainty that pierced Chewa's heart.
The priests, who called him Son of Heaven, had entrusted him with the child's desires: a kingdom united by vessels that would connect distant lands. Chewa, without hesitation, joined the cause, convinced that this dream would become reality.
A few years later, Year 10 of the SuaChie calendar.
The Tequendama II sailed toward Dawn City, its hull cutting through the waters with the grace of a second generation of ships inspired by Chuta's visions. Chewa, now a robust man with streaks of gray in his hair, stood on the prow, the salty wind caressing his face.
He had spent months traveling to Guanza Quyca and Southern Quyca, establishing trade routes and settlements. His chest swelled with emotion at the thought of seeing Young Chuta, whom he had not met with in almost a year.
He brought news: the settlements in Guanza Quyca were thriving, with schools and libraries emerging thanks to scrolls acquired from trans-Saharan merchants; in Southern Quyca, the towns at the mouth of the great rivers had welcomed their ships with enthusiasm, exchanging goods and knowledge.
As the ship approached the docks of Dawn City, Chewa spotted the stone towers and the golden and silver sails waving on the horizon. The city was a testament to the genius of Chuta, now a ten-year-old leader.
"Son of Heaven," Chewa murmured, smiling.
He could not wait to tell him how his visions were becoming a reality beyond the seas, and how the ships that a baby once dreamed of now connected worlds. The future, he thought, was in the hands of this guide, and he, Chewa, was proud to be part of his dream.
At midday.
The sun, bathed Dawn City in a golden light, reflecting off the canals that snaked between the stone houses and bustling markets. Chewa, with his blue-dyed linen tunic and his salt-and-pepper hair gathered in a braid, walked with firm steps toward the Stone Mansion, Chuta's home in this newborn city.
As one of the Suaza Kingdom's most loyal followers and a man close to Young Chuta, the guards stationed at the entrance greeted him with a respectful bow, not even checking his leather pouch.
In Central City, where Hunza had flourished to become the heart of the kingdom, Chuta needed no protection; the city itself was an impenetrable fortress. But here, on the coast of Dawn City, the presence of guards was a necessary precaution.
Rumors of the kingdoms of 'Europe', with their ambitions and armies, made even Chewa, a man of unwavering faith, feel a chill at the thought of the threats that might lurk.
Upon crossing the mansion's threshold, Chewa noticed the simplicity that characterized Chuta's home.
Unlike the kingdom's leaders who filled their houses with inlaid jewels and ostentatious tapestries, the mansion's walls were decorated with detailed maps of Northern, Central, and Southern Quyca, alongside delicate paintings of Nyia, Chuta's betrothed, whose brushstrokes captured the essence of the kingdom with a sensitivity Chewa silently admired.
The scent of polished wood and fresh ink filled the air, mixed with the faint perfume of burnt herbs, an echo of the morning rituals. Chewa felt a familiar warmth; this humility was what bound him to Chuta, a bond that transcended the difference in age and titles.
In the office, Chuta sat behind a dark wooden table, leafing through a scroll. His eyes, bright and deep despite his ten years, rose at the sight of Chewa.
"Chewa!" he exclaimed, his voice warm, setting aside the formality others expected of Young Chuta. "I thought your ship would still be sailing the seas of Southern Quyca. Tell me, my friend, what is the world out there like?"
Chewa smiled, settling into a chair opposite the table.
"Young Chuta, the world is vast, but your dreams make it seem small."
For a few minutes, they talked about everyday things: the taste of southern fruits, the storms that almost capsized their ship, and the laughter of the children in the markets of Guanza Quyca.
These conversations, light and human, were a ritual between them, a way of maintaining the closeness they both valued. Chewa, who had known Chuta when he was just a babbling baby, still marveled at how this child, now a leader, continued to seek out those moments of connection.
After a sip of a fermented maize drink, Chewa moved on to the reports.
"The settlements in Southern Quyca, both private and those of the kingdom, have grown with a speed that still surprises me," he began, unfolding a map on the table. "Thanks to the preparations you ordered years ago, the cities and towns are flourishing. The benefits we offer—food, tools, protection—have attracted the locals. They not only join us, but they defend the settlements as their own. Trade on the great southern rivers is booming: textiles, maize, even rare metals flow to us."
Chuta nodded, his fingers tracing the lines of the map. "That's what I wanted to hear. And the Suaza Strait?"
Chewa frowned slightly.
"The climate there is harsh, Young Chuta," Chewa commented. "The winds and cold make construction difficult, but the new settlements allow us to constantly send resources. The residents are adapting, and soon we will have a solid base to control the maritime routes."
"Good work, Chewa," Chuta said, his tone a mix of pride and reflection. "That strait will be key to our future." His gaze became distant for a moment, and Chewa, who knew him well, knew he was weaving plans that stretched years into the future.
Chewa continued, now speaking of Guanza Quyca.
"Trade with the trans-Saharan merchants and the kingdoms of Songhai, Fez, the Saadian Sultanate, and the Wattasid dynasty is prosperous… We have freed thousands of slaves, resettling them in our territories on that continent or in Southern Quyca. I also obtained valuable information: the Muslim kingdoms and the Ottoman Empire are in constant conflict with the western kingdoms of Europe."
Chuta leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with interest. "What do those Muslim kingdoms think of us?"
"They do not reject our presence," Chewa replied, choosing his words carefully. "For now, they only seek to trade. They see an opportunity in us, not a threat." He noticed how Chuta processed the information, his mind working at a speed that always left him astonished. It was as if he saw the entire world, not just as it was, but as it could be.
However, Chuta changed the subject abruptly.
"Chewa, I need your help with something else." His voice was firm, but there was a glint of excitement in his eyes. Chewa, expectant, straightened in his chair. "From now on, I want you to take charge of trade with the European kingdoms."
Chewa's heart skipped a beat. Europe was an unknown territory, full of promise and peril.
"Europe, Young Chuta?" he asked, his voice tinged with surprise, but not doubt. He knew that Chuta always planned steps ahead, like a player in a game that only he understood.
"Yes," Chuta confirmed, rising to walk to a map hanging on the wall, where Europe appeared as a vague outline but full of potential. "Your role will be as important as Sogeking's... He will be the sword, our navigator and protector on the seas. You will be the pen, weaving alliances with words, goods, and promises. The Europeans will arrive soon, and we must be ready to negotiate on our terms."
Chewa felt a mix of pride and responsibility.
"I accept, Young Chuta. I will meet your expectations, as always." Inside, excitement grew: the child who once babbled about impossible ships was now sending him to deal with kingdoms on the other side of the world. It was an honor, but also a burden that he accepted with devotion.
Chuta smiled, a smile that blended the innocence of a child with the wisdom of an elder.
"I know you will, Chewa. Together, we will ensure that the Suaza Kingdom not only survives but leads the future," Chuta commented, then added in a warm tone: "Also, you should try to have your son take charge of Southern Quyca and Guanza Quyca."
"Chesua?" Chewa asked, surprised that Chuta brought his son into the conversation.
"Yes, him," Chuta replied. "He has done more in Northern Quyca than you can imagine, and he is very skilled... You should give him a chance."
Chewa, who had tried with all his might to keep up with the kingdom's growth, had greatly neglected his family. From that moment he began to learn in the village of Hunza years ago, to mastering ship manufacturing in a large shipping company he co-led with Young Chuta for years, his family had been set aside.
But they understood Chewa's reasoning and supported him in it. Chesua, in particular, who had grown up practically alone for the last 9 years, supported his father with all his effort.
And now that Chuta had reminded him of something so personal, Chewa felt a little ashamed, but also grateful to him.
"Of course, Young Chuta!" he said, moved. "I'm sure he can handle the responsibility, and above all, he will appreciate your words."
"I hope so," Chuta said with a firm tone. "I hope that together we can make the kingdom grow."
As the sunlight filtered through the window, illuminating the maps and paintings, Chewa felt he was on the brink of something monumental, a new chapter in Chuta's vision that would change the world forever.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
You might be wondering why this chapter? Well, it's because Chewa will play an important role in the initial negotiations with the Europeans, not just with Spain.
On the other hand, it also serves to complement part of the initial story and give insight into what will happen with the Ottoman Empire and some Muslim kingdoms in North and Northwest Africa.
I've also been thinking a bit about where the first meeting would take place, and I think it will be in the Canary Islands.
Why?
Well, it wasn't realistic for Chuta to allow the Europeans to return to his territory so easily, and it wasn't plausible for the Europeans to undertake a costly journey just for initial talks.
Also, this island, although it hasn't been mentioned, has already been located by the kingdom. Although, in fact, if any of you remember, there was a moment when Sogekin, in a chapter from his perspective, saw a ship a couple of years ago. Well, it came from the islands.
Unnecessary Fact of the Day: The Wattasid dynasty ruled northwest Africa during this period, and crucial information is that the royal family of the distant Nasrid dynasty went into exile in the city of Fez. This royal family was the last to rule Granada before the Catholic Monarchs reconquered it.
Now, what would happen if they found out there was a kingdom standing against Spain, and not only that, that they had goodwill toward its people?
Will they seek their help to conquer Granada again?
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Read my other novels.
#The Walking Dead: Vision of the Future (Chapter 81)
#The Walking Dead: Emily's Metamorphosis (Chapter 28)
#The Walking Dead: Patient 0 - Lyra File (Chapter 9) (PAUSED)
You can find them on my profile.]