PREVIOUSLY. (Chapter 119)
[Month 1, Year 11 of the SuaChie Calendar.
In the central plaza of Great River City (Northern Quyca)—a vast and expertly paved expanse—he found Rodrigo de Escobedo. The scribe, whom he had left behind in what seemed a land utterly alien to him, bore a radiant countenance, far removed from that of an abandoned man. He sat upon a chair of carved wood, taking meticulous notes, wholly absorbed in the sights before him.
Just as Columbus drew near, the scribe turned. His face lit up with a genuine smile. He approached Columbus with an energy the Genoese had not seen in him for a long time.
"Don Cristóbal! You have returned at last!" Rodrigo exclaimed, the joy in his voice palpable. "I feared you had forgotten me entirely. Tell me, do you bring good tidings? I have so much to tell you, so much I have been able to document of this place..."
-o-
Last appearance of Columbus in the novel: The Meeting with Chuta (Chapter 122). Month 10, Year 11 of the SuaChie Calendar.]
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Month 4, Year 12 of the SuaChie Calendar.Port of Dawn City.
The rhythmic swaying of the Spanish caravel no longer brought comfort to Christopher Columbus. Throughout the month-long voyage from Europe, the groaning of the timber and the scent of saltpetre had served only to amplify the echoes of his own frustrations.
Six months had passed since Young Chuta—that boy who spoke with the authority of a seasoned king—had proposed the most ambitious alliance in human history. To the sovereigns of Europe, six months was a negligible span to move the rusted gears of bureaucracy; to Columbus, they were grains of sand slipping through his fingers while other kingdoms began to lick their lips at the fabled riches of the Suaza Realm.
As the vessel approached the mouth of the harbor at Dawn City (Cuba), Columbus remained upon the poop deck, his journal splayed open across a small navigation table. His thoughts were a roiling cauldron of politics and bitterness.
"Spain sleeps," he murmured to himself, his quill scratching the parchment with violence. "Castile and Aragon are more concerned with the bedchamber games of the Borgias in Rome and the ambitions of Charles VIII in Italy than with the future of the world."
He had tried to sway the Catholic Monarchs. He had spoken of the voyage's prospects, of a potential partnership with the Suaza Kingdom in this New Continent, and of the competing realms. Yet to the Court, mired in negotiations over Roussillon and Cerdanya, such news seemed naught but sailors' tall tales.
France had played its hand well, neutralizing Spain to secure a clear path toward Naples. And while Spain gazed at its own reflection, England, under Henry VII, had caught the scent of the changing tide. The English, revitalized by the spice trade that the Suaza ships themselves brought to their ports, had ceased to view the Suaza as a mere curiosity, seeing them instead as an economic engine.
Columbus looked up from his journal as the first mate cried out from the foremast. What he saw forced him to drop his quill, which rolled across the deck, staining the wood with black ink.
"For the love of God..." Rodrigo de Escobedo whispered at his side, crossing himself.
The Dawn City Columbus had left half a year ago was a prosperous settlement, but what stretched before his eyes now was an industrial metropolis in the making.
The main quay was no longer a makeshift assembly of wooden planks and rough stone. The Suaza had deployed their secret weapon: cement. A colossal structure of stony grey, smooth and near-perfect, surged into the sea like the arm of a giant. It was a construction that defied the logic of any late 15th-century European engineer; there were no joints, no weaknesses—it was a single piece of artificial rock bearing the weight of reinforced wooden cranes that hoisted and lowered goods with terrifying efficiency.
"Could they have rediscovered Roman cement?" the scribe Rodrigo muttered.
Surrounding the main pier, dozens of secondary wooden and stone wharves formed a labyrinthine network where vessels of every stripe swayed. Not only the Suaza ships and a scattering of European vessels, but local flat-keeled boats with square sails that darted between the currents with astonishing agility.
The air did not merely smell of the sea; it was steeped in a new aroma, a mixture of hot pitch, vegetable oil, and something Columbus could only describe as "the scent of progress": a metallic, dry tang emanating from the workshops near the harbor.
"Look at those colors, Admiral," Rodrigo said, gesturing toward the multitude swarming the shore. "They are not only our people or Chuta's."
Columbus adjusted his spyglass. Dawn City had become a crucible. He saw people with skin as dark as ebony—freed slaves or African merchants who had arrived via Chuta's exploratory routes; he saw men of lighter complexion, though their features suggested they were Moors.
The harmony was the most unsettling part. There was none of the filthy chaos of the ports of Seville or Lisbon. Here, Suaza officers, clad in tunics of reinforced cotton and bearing bright metal insignia, directed the traffic with whistles and precise signals.
After an hour's wait for customs formalities—where Suaza officials recorded every name with metal pens—the delegation was led to the new Chancery.
"Don Cristóbal! You are most welcome!" Zasaba's voice boomed through the building's vestibule.
The Chancery was a two-story edifice with high ceilings and large windows that allowed for perfect cross-ventilation, a technique Chuta had mandated to combat the tropical heat.
Zasaba, the Chancellor and Chuta's right hand in matters of security, received them with a diplomatic smile. His Spanish had improved remarkably, though he still preferred the direct nuances of the local tongue.
"Chancellor Zasaba," Columbus offered a formal bow. "Your city seems to have aged a century in a mere few months. Where is the Young Leader? My heart longed to greet him first."
Zasaba's expression softened, though Columbus detected a flicker of exhaustion in his eyes. "Young Chuta is far away, Admiral. The northwestern borders are restless, though it is nothing to fear. Furthermore, he is overseeing the road network that shall link the south to the north. He has asked me to convey his apologies. He cannot witness your departure toward the Sunset Ocean (the Pacific), but his eyes are fixed upon your wake."
Columbus felt a sting of disappointment. Chuta was the only person in this world who seemed to grasp the magnitude of what they were about to achieve. Without him, the expedition felt more like a business venture and less like an epic.
"When do we set sail?" Columbus asked, anticipation etched upon his face.
Zasaba looked at Columbus with a sympathetic gaze. "You shall rest today. Tomorrow at dawn, you depart for the mainland, toward Lake Coapolcan. The overland route is ready."
Two days later.
The expedition was crossing the isthmus. The transit from the eastern coast to Lake Coapolcan (Nicaragua) was an experience that left the Europeans in a state of constant stupor. They did not travel along mule paths; they rode upon horse-drawn wagons over a flat road that cut through the jungle like a surgical wound.
The caravan was a microcosm of the new geopolitics.
In the vanguard rode the English. James Norrington, in his fine wool coat—utterly ill-suited for the humidity—rode beside Friar Wolsey, a keen-eyed cleric who never ceased noting the botanical species they passed.
Behind them came the Spaniards, with Columbus at their head, struggling to maintain a dignity undermined by the meager supplies Castile had granted them. At the rear were the Portuguese under Juan Cortizos—discreet, observant, as if waiting for the exact moment to claim their share of the spoils.
"Look at those trees," Rodrigo whispered to Columbus as the wagon rolled forward. "They look like pillars holding up the sky."
The jungle was a sensory assault. The air was so heavy with moisture it felt as though it could be drunk. The din of howler monkeys in the distance sounded like the roar of mythological beasts, and the flash of macaws crossing the forest canopy was so intense it pained the eyes.
Columbus observed the Suaza guards escorting the caravan. They were armed with steel-tipped spears, and some carried standard versions of the Gatazas (harquebuses). They moved with absolute confidence in an environment the Spaniards found hostile and alien.
At one point, the caravan halted. A jaguar crossed the path less than twenty meters away. It was a magnificent specimen, with black spots over a coat of old gold. It stopped in the middle of the road, looked at the strange men of metal and beard with royal indifference, and then vanished into the undergrowth with a fluid motion.
"If this is but the road," James Norrington murmured, breaking the silence left by the beast, "what manner of monsters or treasures shall we find when we cross the great sea toward the Indies?"
Columbus did not answer. His gaze was fixed on the horizon, where the sun began to descend, staining the sky in violent orange and purple. He knew Chuta had given him a unique opportunity: to be the first European to see the world from the other side. But he also felt the weight of responsibility.
Behind him came the dogs of war from Europe—men who sought not the union Chuta preached, but conquest and gold. And though he too desired riches, some of which he had already secured, his purpose now was simply to explore and leave his name carved into the annals of history.
Upon reaching the shores of Lake Coapolcan, the group prepared for the final leg. The lake was so vast it seemed an inland sea. Columbus stepped down from the wagon, feeling the firm ground beneath his boots. The wind blowing from the west brought a different scent: not the sweet aroma of the jungle, but a cleaner, more immense smell.
"Prepare the equipment," Columbus ordered his men, his voice regaining the firmness of command. "We have not come here to be mere spectators. Tomorrow, Suaza, Spain, England, and Portugal shall etch their names upon the waters that the sun touches as it dies."
Some hours later.
Sunset Edge City and the waters of the Sunset Ocean.
The expedition advanced toward the west coast, leaving behind the Dawn Ocean (Atlantic) and venturing into the vast and unknown Sunset Ocean (Pacific).
Christopher Columbus rode in the carriage, immersed in an introspective silence, broken only by the rhythmic rattling of the wheels upon the paved road. Columbus felt he was not merely crossing a continent, but traversing the border between the era of European kings and a new world to be explored—a world of which he would be a part.
His eyes, accustomed to scanning the horizon for signs of the sea, observed his companions with a curiosity devoid of devotion. James Norrington, the English noble, maintained a rigid posture, chin held high as if the jungle air were beneath his lungs. Meanwhile, Juan Cortizos, the Portuguese envoy, remained in a silent vigil, with the gaze of one calculating the value of every tree and every inch of ground.
Columbus did not notice the exact moment the dense jungle canopy began to open, giving way to the sea breeze. Only when the carriage slowed did his thoughts dissipate before the sight of Sunset Edge City.
This city was the western mirror of the transisthmian route, but unlike its eastern counterpart, Dawn Edge City, this metropolis seemed born directly from a hunger for expansion. It lacked the monumental scale of Dawn City (Cuba), yet it throbbed with an energy Columbus could only describe as "voracious." Reinforced wooden cranes rose against the orange twilight sky, and the sound of saws and hammers formed a symphony of constant progress.
Rodrigo de Escobedo, sitting opposite Columbus, did not stop blurring the pages of his journal.
"It is astounding, Don Cristóbal," Rodrigo murmured without looking up. "Look at the foundations of the new warehouses. They are using the same cement as in the eastern port. Compared to the haphazard constructions of small cities in Europe, this looks like an open wound that refuses to scar until the very earth is wrought stone."
Columbus nodded slightly. In his navigator's mind, he was already projecting the future of this place. If the route to the west proved as stable as the Young Leader claimed, this city would become the shipyard of the Western World. He imagined ships of European design being built there, with local timber and Suaza techniques, ready to serve not only Chuta's realm but also the European crowns wise enough to seize this alliance.
Upon reaching the administrative center, they were received by Mayor Tolú. A middle-aged man, stout and of practical gestures, he greeted them with an enthusiasm Columbus found genuine. Tolú did not speak with the flowery rhetoric of Spanish courtiers; he spoke with the vision of a man who knows his city is the gateway to a new commercial era.
"Our prospects are infinite, Admiral," Tolú told him during their brief exchange. "Every nail we drive here is a step toward the lands of the setting sun."
However, social interactions were brief. Soon, Columbus, James, and Juan were escorted to the personal residence of Umzye.
The man who would lead the exploration and act as the official envoy of the Suaza Kingdom lived in a house that surprised the Europeans with its humility. It was a simple construction, yet decorated with local details and a few luxury gifts that denoted his high status within the Suaza hierarchy.
Umzye, a career soldier with a face weathered by sun and salt, went straight to the point. His manner was gruff, devoid of the diplomatic flourishes James Norrington expected from a host of such rank.
"Five ships in total," Umzye announced, unfolding a nautical chart upon a table of solid wood. "Three of the Tequendama I class and two of the Tequendama II class."
Columbus studied the schematics. The Tequendama I were vessels of great scale, similar to the galleons Spain was beginning to design, possessing enviable stability. The Tequendama II, however, were colossi of even greater capacity, designed for long-distance voyages and massive cargo volumes.
"The Suaza Kingdom shall crew one Tequendama II," Umzye continued with a firm voice. "The second of this type shall be shared with the delegation from England. Young Chuta has decided this due to the greater economic and technical contribution the English king has provided for this venture, as well as the commercial pacts already signed."
James Norrington broke into a smug smile, adjusting his coat cuffs. Columbus, by contrast, felt a pang of bitterness in his chest.
"Furthermore," the general went on, ignoring their reactions, "Portugal and Spain shall each take one Tequendama I. The final vessel of this class shall be for our kingdom's support personnel. Every ship shall have Suaza guiding and supervisory staff. There will be no exceptions."
Columbus loathed the idea of not having absolute command of his vessel, of knowing there were "supervisors" watching his every move. But what pained him most was the wounded pride of Spain. If the monarchs had been proactive—if they had believed in his vision with the same fervor as the English—he would be in command of that great Tequendama II. Now, he had to settle for a borrowed ship of lesser capacity, under the shadow of the English gaze.
The technical meeting was short. They spoke of supplies, cargo capacities, and food reserves.
"When do you wish to depart?" Umzye asked, rolling up the map.
"The sooner, the better," Columbus replied immediately, his voice laden with an impatience he could not hide.
"I second the request," James Norrington added enthusiastically. "My men are ready to show what England and the House of Tudor are capable of."
Juan Cortizos nodded with imperturbable calm.
"We depart in two days," Umzye declared, taking the Europeans by surprise.
In Spain or Portugal, a departure date was merely a suggestion, often postponed by a lack of supplies, ecclesiastical blessings, or last-minute repairs. Here, the word of an officer was law. The efficiency of the Suaza Kingdom slapped European lethargy in the face once more.
Five days later.
The expedition was in open water. After four days of navigation, the coast of Central Quyca was no more than a misty memory to the east. The Sunset Ocean, as the locals called it, was different from the Atlantic Columbus knew so well.
The sea appeared a deeper blue, almost cobalt. At times, an absolute calm reigned—a mirror-like surface reflecting the sky with haunting fidelity. But in the blink of an eye, gigantic waves, born of nowhere, would lash the wooden hull of the Tequendama I. They were not lethal waves for ships of such size, but Columbus felt a cold sweat run down his back imagining those crests of water amplified by a true storm.
"Our ships could capsize if we are not careful," Columbus thought, watching the white foam spray across the deck. "The Tequendama II are fortresses, but we... we are more vulnerable."
He finished his morning entry in his journal, carefully capping the inkwell, and stepped out onto the deck. The wind whipped his face, bringing the scent of pure salt. A young Suaza man approached him immediately with a cordial but professional demeanor. It was Quihicha, the officer assigned as liaison.
"Good morning, Admiral," Quihicha greeted. "How has the navigator's spirit rested?"
"Well, Quihicha. The ship behaves nobly," Columbus replied. "Tell me, what news do the other ships bring?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary," the youth reported. "The course holds as planned by General Umzye. The Spanish personnel and our guides are working in harmony. Everything is under control."
Columbus called for Luis, a young Spanish aide who served as his direct liaison. Together they corroborated the nautical entries and estimated position. Everything seemed correct—too correct.
"We shall begin procuring food soon, as was planned," Quihicha announced with a slight smile.
Columbus frowned. He knew the supplies prepared by the Suaza Kingdom were excellent—dried food and preserves that defied rot—but Umzye had explained that the primary plan was fishing en route. To Columbus, it seemed a waste of time.
To halt the fleet to fish?
It was absurd when they had holds full of stores.
Half an hour later, Quihicha handed him a spyglass. "Observe the Tequendama I in the vanguard, Admiral."
Columbus adjusted the lens. He saw the ship crewed exclusively by Suaza reducing its speed, though without coming to a complete halt. Suddenly, a net of colossal dimensions—compared to those he had seen European fishermen use—was cast into the water in an area the guides had previously marked as a school of fish. After a few minutes, a mechanism of pulleys and gears on the ship's deck began to turn.
The net rose with astonishing speed, straining under a weight that would snap any conventional European net. When it emerged from the water, it was brimming with silver fish leaping frantically.
"Incredible..." Columbus murmured.
The technique was not merely effective; it possessed capabilities far superior to anything known. They did not stop to fish with hooks or small nets; they harvested the sea as they continued to advance toward the west. Columbus lowered the spyglass, feeling a mixture of admiration and a haunting sense of technological inferiority. The Young Leader had thought of everything, from the cement of his ports to the sustenance of his explorers.
The "Son of Heaven," as his subjects called him—or simply Chuta, to the Europeans—was guiding Columbus toward the Indies, but he was doing so on his own terms, proving that this New World did not need Europe to discover the rest of the planet.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
First, I hope you all had a Merry Christmas, that you had a wonderful time, and that you enjoyed it more with loved ones.
I'm sorry I haven't uploaded any chapters, but I got a short-term job for the holidays, and it turned out to be quite exhausting.
By the way, I read your comments on the previous chapter (although I haven't replied to them yet) and I'll answer them soon with a clear and concise explanation (just kidding, it'll be a long answer as usual, hahaha).
In this chapter, we return to Columbus, and the expedition to Asia begins. As for what was important in the previous chapters, nothing really, just Chuta's proposal for a joint expedition that he made to Columbus in chapter 122.
This chapter and the following ones will be about this voyage. I would have liked to have Sogeking on this trip, but Chuta had promised Umzye this journey, hahaha.
I plan to make the chapters quite detailed, with some mini-adventures, but I'm afraid of repeating myself too much, so I'll be especially careful.
Oh, and there's a map in the comments.
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Read my other novels.
#The Walking Dead: Vision of the Future (Chapter 91)
#The Walking Dead: Emily's Metamorphosis (Chapter 34) (INTERMITTENT)
#The Walking Dead: Patient 0 - Lyra File (Chapter 14) (INTERMITTENT)
You can find them on my profile.]