PREVIOUSLY.
["Are you telling me he has abandoned his post?" I asked, a hint of anger edging my voice. "Has he failed in his duty to protect the coasts and watch over this side of the sea? If so, I shall strip him of his rank this very day."
To my surprise, Chewa let out a genuine bark of laughter, raising both hands in a placating gesture.
"No, no, Leader! Quite the contrary," he hastened to clarify, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Sogeking is fulfilling his duty to perfection. Not a single European ship dares approach our waters, and the trade routes have never been safer. The problem is that he is... too impulsive. He throws himself into hunting pirates or exploring the far reaches of the continent out of sheer boredom. He flees from bureaucracy as if it were the plague—or, as he shouted at me from the deck of his ship the last time I saw him: he claims he is simply an 'adventurer'."]
Year 13 of the SuaChie Calendar, Ninth Month (November 1495).
Guanzauba City, Guanza Quyca (Africa).
The Council House.
I burst out laughing, the sound echoing against the thick clay and stone walls flanking the entrance to the Council House. We crossed the threshold, and the stifling African heat gave way to a cool, comforting gloom. The interior smelled of beeswax, papyrus, and the polished mahogany of the furnishings.
"He has always been like that, Chewa," I replied, dismissing the matter with a casual wave of my hand. "Sogeking has the soul of a pirate from European tales, but he is loyal to the bone. As long as he keeps foreign vessels at bay and doesn't sink our own fleet, I fail to see the problem. Let the man breathe the salt air if it brings him joy."
Chewa walked beside me down the corridor flanked by tall windows, but he did not share my amusement. His footsteps echoed with a heavy cadence against the geometric stone tiles.
"I know very well how Sogeking is, Leader, and I trust his naval skills as much as you do," Chewa conceded, stopping beside a table where a massive, half-drawn map lay unrolled. "But I feel the rules of the game are about to change. The constant presence of our Tequendamas in these seas... is beginning to draw eyes. And I fear the consequences might be far different from a simple clash of armadas."
I paused and leaned against the edge of the map table, crossing my arms. The sunlight filtering through the lattice cast a diamond pattern across my administrator's worried face.
"Explain," I prompted, lowering my voice.
"It is the pirates," Chewa said, fixing his dark gaze upon me. "We know piracy exists, of course. They prowl the northern seas and are a constant plague in the Europeans' Mediterranean Sea. But those are disorganized brigands. My fear is that our wealth, our technology, and the supremacy we are inadvertently imposing will plant a far more dangerous seed in the courts of Europe. I have a grim suspicion that the European kings, finding themselves incapable of facing us in open naval warfare, might begin to covertly encourage and fund piracy against the Suaza Kingdom."
A deathly silence descended upon us. I paused, feeling a chill creep down the back of my neck—not from fear, but at Chewa's terrifyingly sharp insight.
He had no way of knowing it, but his political instinct had just predicted one of the most devastating phenomena in the naval history of my previous world. My mind immediately flashed to the coming centuries of my original timeline: privateering.
I remembered how powers like England and France, unable to break the dominance of the Spanish Empire, would issue "letters of marque," effectively legalizing piracy.
Sir Francis Drake, Henry Morgan... all those European national "heroes" were nothing more than maritime mercenaries funded by envious crowns to bleed the gold from a superior empire.
If the Europeans of this era discovered the true value of what our transatlantic ships carried, they would not hesitate to use that same foul stratagem against Suaza.
I wiped any trace of levity from my face, stood tall, and looked at Chewa with absolute gravity.
"Your concerns are exceptionally well-founded, Chewa," I told him, placing a hand on his shoulder in a gesture of respect. "You are absolutely right. Never underestimate the greed of the kings of the Old World. If they cannot best us with their official armadas, they will attack us from the shadows, paying criminals to do their dirty work. We will have to begin arming our commercial galleons more heavily and prepare Sogeking for an undeclared war."
Chewa nodded, visibly relieved that I hadn't dismissed his paranoia. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly, and with his usual diplomatic deftness, he subtly changed the subject, sliding a finger over the parchment spread across the table.
"I shall take the necessary logistical measures at the ports, Leader. Moving on to more pleasant matters... the flow of trade in the settlements of the three islands has taken a somewhat different course than projected, but this city, Guanzauba, has far and away gained the most popularity. It has become the pearl of our overseas trade."
I smiled, pleased to see the jade markers placed upon the map, representing our prosperous enclaves.
"You have done a magnificent job, my friend. This entire system is held together by your level head," I praised him sincerely. "Tell me, have you encountered any other minor administrative issues? Anything you haven't mentioned in your reports?"
Chewa pondered for a moment, drumming his fingers against the mahogany.
"There is something," he admitted, narrowing his eyes as he studied the immense coastline drawn on the map—the continent we called Guanza Quyca, and the Europeans knew as Africa. "I had not reported it to you until now due to a lack of topographical verification, but thanks to the constant 'strolls' taken by Sogeking and the other armada captains, we have finally been able to chart these coasts with great precision. At the very least, the entire western strip is now delineated."
"Did they find anything of interest?" I asked, feeling a prickle of curiosity ignite in my chest.
"Three great fluvial arteries." Chewa pointed to three distinct spots on the vast African coast. "The nearest river to the north empties almost directly into the heart of our ally, the Songhai Empire. It will be a vital route if we can manage to dredge the inlets. The other two are freshwater leviathans located much further south, flanked by impenetrable jungles."
He paused, and his expression grew slightly more somber.
"Furthermore, we have found signs. Carved stone crosses and salt-eaten markers. We have detected the clear presence of Portuguese explorers who visited these southern coasts decades before we ever even set our ships upon the water."
I nodded slowly, processing the information.
The Portuguese padrões of Diogo Cão. It made sense; Portugal had spent half a century creeping down the coast of Africa, searching for a route to India.
"It's only natural. They have been skirting this continent in search of Asian spices," I murmured, rubbing my chin. "Tell me, have our southern fleets made formal contact with any other great kingdoms in those lower latitudes?"
Chewa let out a sudden scoff, a mix of exasperation and genuine annoyance wrinkling his nose.
"That is precisely what we are waiting for!" he exclaimed, raising his voice slightly and crossing his arms. "But to know that, I would need your eccentric vice admiral to return and give me a full report. In one of his latest outbursts, Sogeking vanished into the frigid seas for weeks. According to rumors from his crew, the crazy bastard nearly rounded the southern tip of Guanza Quyca before the winds forced him to turn back."
My eyes went wide, genuinely astounded.
"The south?" I exclaimed. "But I gave him strict orders not to breach the charted boundaries to avoid unnecessary confrontations and stretching our supply lines!"
"Try telling that to the 'adventurer', Leader. To him, a border on a map is a personal insult."
I dragged a hand down my face, attempting to maintain my composure, but it was useless. A muffled, bubbling, and irrepressible laugh escaped my throat.
Sogeking was completely unhinged, but his madness was handing us a colossal advantage. He had been on the verge of rounding the Cape of Good Hope, anticipating Vasco da Gama's historical feat by years.
As I gazed upon the vast map of the Dawn Ocean and the incomplete profile of Africa on the parchment, an audacious, almost reckless idea began to germinate in my mind. If the Europeans were going to play at pirates and monopolize their foolish coastal routes... perhaps it was time to flip the board entirely.
The wild notion of giving Sogeking a long-range exploration fleet and letting him circumnavigate the entire globe—of connecting the Pacific with the Indian Ocean before Europe even fully grasped the shape of the earth—began to nest in my thoughts, promising days of glory and utter madness.
Three weeks later.
Year 13 of the SuaChie Calendar, Tenth Month (December 1495).
Waters of the Karinamá Region (NR), Caribá Sea.
It was already the middle of the month, and the Tequendama II was finally cutting through kinder waters. The most complex and monotonous stretch of the voyage, the immense and turbulent expanse of the Dawn Ocean, had been left behind.
Now, the wind blew with a familiar warmth, laden with the unmistakable scent of damp jungle and fertile earth that heralded our entry into the domains of the Caribá Sea.
Leaning against the bow, I watched as the coast of the Karinamá region—our vast northern territory—rose on the horizon, silhouetted against a dazzlingly blue sky. We were approaching Cumanagota (Barcelona, Venezuela), one of the region's port jewels.
The arrival at this bay of turquoise waters was peaceful, an abysmal contrast to the choppy seas we had left behind, but for me, the sight was profoundly revealing and nostalgic.
On my previous voyages across the Caribá Sea, I had almost always opted for the western routes, avoiding sailing too close to the northern coast of the continental landmass or venturing into the southeastern quadrant of the Caribá region. However, this stop was no mere nautical caprice.
The memory of the tragedy still weighed heavily on my chest.
Only a couple of months ago, a colossal storm—a hurricane of apocalyptic proportions—had swept across this coastal strip, leaving a trail of desolation in its wake. Ever since receiving the reports of the casualties and material damages, I had promised myself to visit the area properly, to evaluate the reconstruction and support my people as their Leader.
The irony was bitter: now that I was finally close, I had to swallow my authority and keep my modest facade as the translator "Sansua" intact before Spencer and the English retinue, who were already swarming the upper decks, complaining about the stifling tropical heat.
Even so, I was not going to squander the opportunity. I would not be able to walk the streets with the honor guard befitting my station, but I could indeed hold a secret meeting with Kamui, the loyal and astute governor of the northern region.
To avoid the scrutiny of the Europeans and the logistical nuisances of docking vessels of such immense size, I 'ordered' the ships to anchor in deep waters, at a prudent distance from the shore.
I took a small yet agile rowboat accompanied only by a select group of Suaza escorts, whose light armor gleamed beneath the unforgiving sun, and headed toward the docks.
The port of Cumanagota was a hive of activity. The staccato of hammers and the scent of freshly sawn cedar wood were testaments to the titanic reconstruction efforts.
Upon disembarking, the coast guard intercepted us immediately. I adopted a humble posture as the captain of my escort stepped forward and presented a thick medallion of hardened clay and gold: an official seal of absolute priority from the central government.
The port officials' demeanor changed in a fraction of a second. From being just another group of travelers, we were escorted at a martial pace through the vibrant, bustling streets of the city, directly toward the provisional Regional Palace—a massive structure of reinforced adobe and thatched palm roofs that Kamui had erected as a temporary administrative center until the construction of the capital was completed.
Upon arriving at the complex, we were subjected to a second, rigorous inspection by the governor's elite guard. Once our "identity" was verified, I was led through the cool inner corridors under the guise of an 'urgent messenger' from the central government, leaving my escorts waiting in the main courtyard.
The heavy, carved wooden double doors swung open before me.
Kamui's office was spacious and functional, dominated by large windows that let in the sea breeze.
Upon entering, I spotted the governor at once. Kamui was leaning over an expansive map table, surrounded by half a dozen aides and military commanders who hung on his every word.
"...the 'free' tribes of the east are proud," Kamui was saying, his deep, raspy voice resonating in the room, "but last winter was harsh. Their attachment to the Suaza system in the neighboring region, the one my son Paramaconi governs, has proven that agricultural integration is the only way forward. I need surplus grain sent to them before the next moon. Let them see that our hand is extended, not wielding a weapon."
One of the guards who had escorted me cleared his throat, striking the base of his spear against the stone floor.
"Governor Kamui, forgive the interruption. The messenger Sansua has arrived, sent directly from the central government."
Kamui lifted his head from the maps. His weathered face, scarred by decades of sun and battles, turned toward me. His dark eyes scanned my eyepatch and humble tunic.
For a fraction of a second, time seemed to stand still as a spark of absolute recognition gleamed in his pupils. His posture tensed imperceptibly, but like the masterful politician he was, his public expression did not change in the slightest.
I approached with measured steps and, lowering my gaze in a bow befitting my supposed rank, handed him a thick, sealed envelope.
Kamui took the envelope, weighing it in his calloused hands. Then, he looked at his aides with unyielding authority.
"That is enough for now," he ordered. "Leave us... All of you."
The aides exchanged surprised glances, bewildered by the abrupt interruption of a strategic meeting for a mere messenger, but no one dared question him. In less than ten seconds, the office was completely empty, and the heavy doors closed with a dull thud behind us.
Silence filled the room.
Kamui dropped the envelope onto the table, took two steps toward me, and, casting aside all protocol, bowed his head in a slight reverence, laden with an affection and respect that made my heart swell.
"It is an honor to have you under this humble roof, Leader," he murmured, straightening up with a warm smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
I let my shoulders drop, finally shedding the suffocating mask of Sansua, and returned the smile with equal affection.
"The honor is mine, old friend. You have done an admirable job managing this city so impeccably."
I stepped closer to him, but before Kamui could reply to my compliment, I halted my steps, clasped my hands before me, and offered him a serious, solemn bow. My tone lost any trace of levity.
"Kamui... I want to thank you," I said, looking him straight in the eyes. "From the bottom of my heart, and on behalf of the entire Empire. The swiftness and devotion with which you dispatched aid, supplies, and men to the Caribá region during the great storm a couple of months ago saved thousands of lives. It was a titanic effort, and I could not have asked for a better leader for this territory in such a dark hour."
Kamui stood paralyzed. His eyes widened drastically, profoundly surprised and even somewhat overwhelmed to receive a direct bow from his ruler. A dark flush tinted his weathered cheeks.
"Leader... Chuta, please, do not do that," he stammered, waving his hands in humility. "You have nothing to thank me for. It was my absolute duty as a governor and as a man of Suaza to come to the aid of our brothers. It was the least we could do in the face of nature's fury... and besides, it is evident that it was an action the gods themselves observed and wholeheartedly approved."
I frowned beneath my eyepatch, genuinely confused by that last statement.
"The gods approved of it?" I repeated, tilting my head. "You know I am a man of facts and actions rather than omens, Kamui. What exactly do you mean?"
The tension in Kamui's face vanished completely, replaced by an immense, radiant smile laden with an undisguisable pride. His eyes shone with a damp, emotional light.
"I mean that good deeds bring blessings, my friend," he replied, resting a heavy hand on the edge of his map table. "Barely three days ago, a messenger arrived from the territories of my son, Paramaconi. He sent me news that has filled this old heart with light... His wife is with child, Leader. Paramaconi is going to have a son. I am going to be a grandfather!"
…
Four days after our strategic stop in Cumanagota, the Tequendama II sliced through the crystalline waters near the imposing port of Dawn City.
The brief stay on the northern coast had acted as a miraculous balm for everyone aboard. After weeks at the mercy of the ocean's monotony and preserved rations, the resupply at the port had injected new life into the crew, and most especially into our delicate European guests.
The holds now overflowed with fragrant tropical fruits—pineapples, mangoes, and papayas—that distilled an intoxicating sweetness through the lower decks. Furthermore, we had loaded entire sacks of the second annual rice harvest from the Karinamá region.
Those steaming bowls of soft, white rice, accompanied by the juice of fresh fruits, had pacified the constant complaints of Mr. Spencer and his retinue, making them forget the "discomforts" of our vessel for a few days.
The sun was beginning to set, tingeing the sky with shades of orange and violet, when I stepped away from the bustle of the crew to head toward the aft cabins.
I found Margaret standing by the polished wooden railing, near the door to her cabin. The warm sea breeze toyed with the reddish strands that escaped her flawless coiffure. Her green gaze was fixed on the coastline silhouetted in the distance, but there was no wonder in her eyes; only a heavy, silent weariness.
I approached her with soft steps, leaning my elbows on the railing beside her.
"We shall dock soon, Your Highness," I told her, maintaining the low, affable tone of 'Sansua.' "But I must inform you of a small detail regarding protocol. When the ship makes port, I will have to disembark before anyone else. The laws of my kingdom dictate that I must be on dry land, attired appropriately, to receive you officially and grant you the welcome you deserve."
Margaret blinked slowly, without tearing her eyes away from the water crashing against the hull. Her small shoulders slumped a little.
"Are you going to leave my side?" she asked, and her voice trembled in a way that wrenched my heart.
She turned her face toward me. The raw terror of the immensity of the sea and the unknown had kept her in a state of constant high alert throughout the entire journey. But now, almost a month after leaving behind the gray shores of England, the adrenaline was fading, laying bare a deep, immense sorrow. She was, after all, a six-year-old girl who had been torn from her home.
"I feel... strange," she confessed, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I thought I would be happy when we saw land, but... suddenly my chest hurts so much. I miss my mother. I miss Arthur and my little brothers and sisters."
"It is normal, little one," I replied, my voice thick with genuine empathy. "You have crossed the entire world. But I want you to know something: you will never be alone here. We will always be by your side. Especially Umza; if we gave her the chance, she would carry you in her arms everywhere."
The mention of my wife managed to pierce the dark cloud looming over her. Margaret let out a small, shaky giggle, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Miss Umza is... very clingy," she admitted, a timid smile gracing her lips. "She is always hugging me. And Turey... Turey is so funny when she tries to speak English. She pronounces the words as if she has stones in her mouth."
I smiled at her innocent imitation, but I did not let it fool me. Behind those childish giggles, I could still see the armor of a Tudor princess trying to lock her sorrow away.
I knew what it was like to feel like a stranger in a foreign world. I knew the weight of imposed solitude. I stepped back from the railing, knelt on the wooden deck until I was at eye level with her, and looked at her with absolute seriousness.
"Margaret, listen to me well," I said, capturing her gaze with my one visible eye. "I promise you, on my honor, that I will personally see to it that your life here is as happy as possible. You will find a true family in us. And I want you to know something else..."
I paused briefly, ensuring every word engraved itself in her mind.
"Your father cares about treaties and alliances, but I care about you. Even if destiny or our own choices dictate that we do not wed in the future, I swear to you that you will not be cast aside. I will make you a queen in your own right, with lands and a voice of your own. No one will ever use you as a mere bargaining chip again."
Little Margaret's face was a whirlwind of emotions. Her sorrow was quickly eclipsed by a flash of childish joy, followed by profound confusion at not entirely understanding the political implications of my words, before finally settling into an immense and pure relief. She didn't need to understand kingdoms or thrones; she only needed to know she was safe.
Slowly, she nodded. A knowing smile—identical to the one she had given me that first day in London, when I secretly revealed my eye to show her my true identity—lit up her freckled face.
A little over a month later.
Time in the 'New World' stopped for no one.
A little over a month after that emotional disembarkation in Dawn City, we were on the move once again. It was already the twelfth month of the 13th year of our official calendar. The festive air was becoming palpable in every corner of the empire, as not only the start of a new year was approaching, but also my fourteenth birthday.
Our immense retinue now sailed the calmer waters of the Caribá Sea, heading toward the Eyadobida region.
The makeup of our group was a portrait of the bridge we were building between two eras: my three wives—Umza, Nyia, and Turey—traveled alongside Margaret, her retinue of ladies, and the stoic English guards, all escorted by our own elite guard and my most trusted aides.
That month of transition had worked wonders on the princess.
After enjoying a warm, monumental, and colorful welcome in Dawn City, her spirits had taken a radical turn. The tropical climate had brought the color back to her cheeks, and her fear had been replaced by the inexhaustible curiosity typical of her age.
Standing on the upper deck of the riverboat, Margaret clung to the railing, watching as the imposing, lush coast of Eyadobida slowly approached. The gigantic jungle trees seemed to lean over the water like ancient guardians.
"Chuta..." she called out to me, turning her head. She had stopped using the name 'Sansua' the instant I set foot on land wearing my Leader's attire. "That central city we are going to after we disembark... Is it very big?"
I walked toward her, taking a place at her side to behold the vibrant emerald horizon.
"It is immense, Margaret," I replied, feeling pride swell in my chest. "It is much larger than London. But do not picture what you know. You will find no gray stone castles there, nor narrow streets covered in mud and shadows."
I pointed toward the thicket before us, imagining the golden domes and crystalline canals that awaited us miles inland.
"Our Central City is interwoven with nature. It is a sea of brilliant green, of pristine aqueducts, of gardens that bloom all year round, and buildings that capture the sunlight... It is a city that breathes."
Margaret's large green eyes lit up with a gleam of pure fascination, reflecting the sun's sparkle upon the water, as the warm wind pushed us onward toward our destination.
.
----
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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, to clarify, Sogeking's freedom was approved by Chuta; he's not acting on a whim. Also, Sogeking's ship has already been replaced with an upgraded Tequendama I, and he'll have a Yaguar in the future.
Second, regarding the disaster a few months ago, Chuta already worked with Foza to help, but what Chuta really wanted was to visit the site. He did stop in the northern region to thank Kamui.
Third, there will be several time jumps separated by some subplots. This is connected to the new volume, as the previous one focused on character development.
AUTHOR'S COMMENTS
First, I tried to upload the images, but it didn't work. I have no idea why my browser wouldn't let me download or upload files. I'll try again this time.
Second, a chapter of Memories is coming, and then a part I'm really enjoying writing. You'll see it in four days, God willing.
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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.]