Chief: "Yes, George. What is it?"
George: "Nothing serious, Chief. Vincent's team has been in Mexico for almost one and a half months now. We have a lot of pending work piling up here. I think it would be better if they're asked to return to the U.S. soon."
Chief: "That's surprising, George. You're usually the one who encourages Vincent. What made you say this now?"
George: "What to do, Chief… the situation has changed."
Chief: "Alright, George. I understand. I'll inform them."
The Archaeology Department was preparing to put pressure on Vincent's team.
Cheran entered the palace along with Guerrero. Just then, a group of Spaniards who had finished discussing trade relations with the king walked past them. Neither party noticed the other.
The king, who was walking through the palace, spotted cheran and approached both him and Guerrero.
"What is this, cheran? Is he the Guerrero you mentioned?"
"Not just Guerrero, Your Majesty," cheran said with a faint smile.
"He is also your future son-in-law."
Before cheran could finish, Princess Xajilha stepped out of her chamber.
The moment the king saw his daughter, he walked straight toward her—but passed her without a word and pulled a sword from the wall.
Guerrero froze in shock.
The king stood before Guerrero and held out the sword with both hands. With reverence, Guerrero accepted it. The king turned toward cheran with pride in his eyes.
That very day, Guerrero and Xajilha's marriage was arranged. The king had unwavering faith that cheran's choices were always right.
But while cheran had foreseen the princess's future perfectly, he had failed to foresee his own.
Traditional Mayan markings—tattoos worn only by the Mayans—were etched onto Guerrero's ears and cheeks. In body and soul, he slowly forgot that he was a Spaniard and became one of the Mayans.
The Mayans believed that Guerrero deeply respected their faith and culture. For the first time in Mayan history, they agreed to accept an outsider as one of their own.
The wedding preparations were complete.
On the grasslands, Mayan men stood in circles, striking ivory tusks together to create rhythmic music. Women danced gracefully, bending and swaying with peacock feathers. Rhinoceros hide drums thundered through the air.
Guerrero was handed the sacred Mayan marriage cords. Following the priests' guidance, he bowed and tied the first cord around Princess Xajilha's right foot. When he lifted his gaze to her face, her cheeks flushed shyly.
Cheran noticed this and instructed him to tie the second cord around her right hand.
Pachama watched the ritual, remembering the moment she herself had once dreamed of marrying cheran. She looked at him with a shy smile—and cheran returned it with the same unspoken emotion.
Guerrero took the third cord and tied it around Xajilha's neck.
The marriage was complete.
Guerrero was immediately declared a prince, but he declined the title and chose instead to become the commander of the army.
Even during the wedding, Guerrero kept searching the crowd for Jerónimo.
Everyone in the Mayan kingdom had gathered for Guerrero and Xajilha's wedding.
Everyone—except Jerónimo.
At the same time, on Mexican soil, Hernán Cortés, the Spanish conqueror, set foot with 17 ships and 500 soldiers.
In the 15th century, Spain was aggressively exploring new lands and sea routes. Cortés sat inside his military camp when two Spanish soldiers approached him.
"Major, a man claiming to be your friend is here to see you."
"My friend? Here?" Cortés frowned.
"Send him in."
Moments later, Jerónimo entered with the soldiers. The instant Cortés saw him, his face lit up with joy.
"Jerónimo! My dear friend! What are you doing here? We only just discovered this land—how did you arrive before us?"
Jerónimo said nothing. He stood motionless, tears streaming down his face.
"Hey—what happened? Speak, Jerónimo."
Cortés turned to the soldiers. "Wait outside."
Once they left, Jerónimo steadied himself and sat down. He recounted everything—the shipwreck, being captured by the Cocom Mayans, and how Aguilar was worked to death.
Cortés' eyes burned with fury.
Jerónimo pleaded, "Please, Cortés… get me out of here."
But Cortés replied coldly, Guerrero's image flashing in his mind.
"No, Jerónimo. You have work to do here."
He continued, controlling his rage.
"We are Spaniards. We are meant to conquer the world. One of our own living like a savage and becoming one of them—there is no greater disgrace."
"Go and talk to Guerrero," Cortés ordered.
"Bring him back—by any means. After that, I'll arrange for both of you to return to Spain."
Jerónimo looked at Cortés with renewed determination and nodded.
11:00 PM
David lay on his bed, lost in thought, when his phone rang. He checked the screen—and his face softened into a smile.
"Mom… how are you? How's dad?"
"Forget about us, David. How are you? What happened with the call?"
Silence.
"Say something, David. Just answer one thing… did you talk to Beulah?"
"No, Mom."
"Did she talk to you?"
"She did."
"Then what's the problem? Don't worry, dear. Bring her home and let her stay with us for a week. Everything will be fine. Good night."
Only after that call did David finally fall asleep.
Along with the Archaeology Department, David too was now preparing to put pressure on Vincent.