In a town in Northern Quyca.
The welcoming festival had ended, but the town's accelerated pace continued. The air smelled of fresh sawdust, the salt of the sea, and the sweat of the men who worked. The constant clang of hammers against wood and the murmur of voices blended into a symphony of progress.
I was guided by Chewa's son through the town. The packed-earth streets were full of life; my gaze was lost in the crowd, noting the energy that emanated from every person moving back and forth. The town, which would soon be a city, buzzed with excitement.
"It's incredible how many people are moving around in town. Why is this happening?" I asked him, looking at the men.
"Young Chuta," he began, his voice firm and full of purpose. "We've developed a hybrid form of trade that attracts both island merchants and locals. We use gold coins as we do in the kingdom, but the exchange of resources remains our primary currency with nearby towns. They appreciate the value of coins like precious stones, but they trust the goods we offer them much more."
We walked down a wide street, where local men worked side-by-side with our own, building houses and hauling wood. There were local men, people from the islands, people from the regions, and even Aztec men. Differences dissolved in the common purpose of work and prosperity.
"We have also hired local people to till the land, build, and work as haulers. It's a fair exchange; we give them work, and they give us their effort," Chewa's son continued.
My eyes scanned the faces of the people, noticing the variety of cultures. Seeing that integration, that joint effort, filled me with deep pride. Each face, each hammer blow, was a tangible reminder that my vision was not just an idea, but a reality that was growing and flourishing. This prosperity, this unity, was the foundation of everything we were building.
"I have seen your father's work, and it is impressive," I said, my voice full of admiration. "He is a loyal leader and a great visionary. Please convey my thanks to him if you see him first."
The young man looked at me with pride. "I will, Young Chuta. My father always says that loyalty is the foundation of everything we build... By the way, he is scheduled to return in a few weeks. How many days do you plan to stay?" he asked me.
"Unfortunately, I will only be staying a few days," I told him. "I see," he murmured, with a tinge of disappointment in his voice that made me feel the weight of my schedule.
As we walked, I took the opportunity to ask him about some details.
"Tell me about the production. What are the numbers? And security? How are you handling schools and education?"
Chewa's son responded with an enthusiasm that hadn't been noticeable in his formal demeanor.
"Lumber production has exceeded our expectations. We have also cleared many nearby lands to increase the number of crops we can produce, so we won't need to depend on food transportation from the south," he replied.
"The number of people in town has grown by twenty percent in the last year, and the schools are full of children from all cultures," he continued. "As for security, we have established mixed patrols, and the respect among everyone is what keeps us safe. People feel that it is their town, and they protect it."
The conversation proceeded at a calm pace, unlike the rhythm of life in the town.
Just as we were arriving at the town's main house, a man with elegant features and vibrant clothing approached us. His presence was imposing, his attire adorned with feathers and jewels that sparkled under the sun.
"Young Chuta," said Chewa's son with a respectful tone. "This is Nezahualpilli, an Aztec noble, a member of the Inland Sea Trading Company."
He was Nezahualpilli, an Aztec noble and a member of the Inland Sea Trading Company. His presence was a reminder that the kingdom was not alone in this part of the world, and his formal reverence underlined the importance of this new relationship.
Nezahualpilli, with a formal bow, tried to speak in Muisca. His accent was thick, and the words came out with difficulty, but his intention was clear.
"It is an honor to meet you, Young... Chuta," he said.
My lips curved into a smile. I had studied many languages on my own, and Nahuatl, the language of the Aztecs, was one of them. I decided to surprise him.
"The honor is mine, Nezahualpilli," I replied in Nahuatl, with a fluency that stopped his companions in their tracks. The effect was immediate.
Nezahualpilli's expression shifted from formality to astonishment, his eyes widened, and a smile of genuine pleasure spread across his face. His assistants looked at each other, visibly impressed, and I saw their postures relax. My words and the use of idioms I had learned in my studies made him feel more comfortable.
"It doesn't bother me at all," he replied with a broad smile. "It is a pleasure. Your command of our language is impeccable. I had heard the information brought by the envoys of our alliance, but I thought they were exaggerating, Young Chuta."
"I hope they only spoke good things about me," I commented with a joking tone.
Nezahualpilli was a little surprised by the joke, but after understanding it, he began to laugh heartily. His assistants also laughed, joining in. It was a laugh that dissolved any cultural barriers, creating a bridge between our peoples.
Chewa's son led us inside the house, a large, well-lit space. We sat around a carved wooden table, and the conversation turned to matters of trade and politics.
"I have seen the ships you use," Nezahualpilli began, his tone serious. "They are incredible. My men have never seen anything like them. I would like to buy large ships. We want to be a power on the sea, just as you are."
My mind raced. The request for large ships was not something I could take lightly. I had to prepare a large number of ships for an encounter I would have in just over a year with the Europeans. I could not give up any of the ships I needed for that meeting. However, I could not ruin such an important alliance with a flat refusal.
"Nezahualpilli, the construction of our large ships is a long and complex process," I said, my voice calm and diplomatic. "I cannot sell the large ships that are already ready, as we need them for our expeditions. But I have a proposal that might interest you."
Nezahualpilli looked at me with curiosity. "What would it be?" he asked, without showing annoyance at my refusal, although his brow furrowed slightly.
"We could sell you a large number of our medium-sized ships, and I offer you the possibility for your men to receive navigation lessons in any of our official regions. That way, you will ensure that your sailors have a thorough knowledge of how to handle the vessels... And perhaps in a few years we can sell you the large ships."
Nezahualpilli thought about my offer for a moment. The initial frustration on his face gave way to a smile of satisfaction.
"It is a very generous offer, Young Chuta. I accept. My men will learn from the best, and my ships will be in good hands."
As the deal was closed, I felt a knot in my stomach untie. The weight I didn't know I was carrying lifted from my shoulders, and the relief was overwhelming. I had achieved a fair and beneficial deal for both parties, securing an important alliance and maintaining the security of my kingdom in the future.
The dinner, offered by Chewa's son, became a banquet that united local flavors with the tradition of my kingdom. The atmosphere was festive, and the conversation flowed freely, but the tone was set by Nezahualpilli, a man who was not only a noble but also a recognized poet.
"Poetry is the soul of a people, Young Chuta," he said, his voice resonating with passion. "It is how the gods speak to us and how man finds his place in the world. It is the song that remains in the wind long after the warriors have marched."
I listened to him attentively, feeling a pang of shame.
"It is a pity," I said with a melancholic smile. "Our kingdom is too new and does not have a strong, unified culture. With its rapid development in construction and agriculture, a culture oriented towards writing and poetry does not yet have a prominent place. However, thanks to the knowledge of the gods that I gave my people, more and more people blessed with the gift of literary creation are appearing in the kingdom. It is a slow, but constant, growth."
Nezahualpilli looked at me with a knowing smile.
"You should not lament, Young Chuta. I have been fortunate enough to see some of the products from your kingdom in the homes of the leaders of the Inland Sea Trading Company," he commented with grace and appreciation for the artworks of the Kingdom.
"The art of painting and sculpture has advanced by leaps and bounds. The clay or metal figures, the engravings on your canvases... they are masterpieces that tell stories on their own. I am very interested in the paper you produce to create our own paintings... And I congratulate you for motivating your people to express themselves through these art forms."
His words filled me with a sense of silent pride. I had succeeded in making art flourish in my kingdom.
At the end of dinner, Nezahualpilli gestured for me to accompany him to one of the terraces.
"Young Chuta, I need to talk to you about something," he said, his voice lower and more serious.
The night air was fresh, and the stars shone above us. A cricket sang in the distance. I felt a sudden tension. The silence felt eternal, and my mind raced, wondering what he could want to talk about, what political problem might have arisen.
"I have seen in some of your settlements... liberated slaves," Nezahualpilli continued, and my heart sank. The cold of the night was no longer what made me tremble. The silence that followed was interminable, as my mind raced a thousand miles an hour, calculating the possible consequences.
However, Nezahualpilli's next sentence surprised me.
"Do not worry," he said, his voice soft and sincere. "I am not here to cause you problems. On the contrary. My people are mistreated by our nobles, and to see that you are willing to help our own, even those who have no voice... I appreciate that very much."
The relief I felt was overwhelming. My body relaxed. I had found an ally in the most unexpected place. A poet, a noble from a different empire, understood what I was trying to do.
"My actions, Nezahualpilli, are not for honors. They are simply to do what is right," I told him, my voice calm.
Nezahualpilli smiled, his gaze fixed on the horizon.
"And because of that, Young Chuta, I believe your kingdom will be much larger and more powerful than ours. Because your strength is not in your weapons, but in the respect, you have for your people."
His words resonated in my mind. I realized that my journey to Northern Quyca was not just for the exploration of a new land. It was to forge unexpected alliances and to find those who, like me, believed in a future of peace and prosperity.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
Chuta spends a day with Chewa's son, visiting the city, but mainly discussing matters related to the new settlements. He meets with Nezahualpilli, the nobleman who seemed interested in trade deals with the Kingdom over a year ago.
By the way, Chuta knows that not all settlements will run as smoothly as this one, but he will try to exert some kind of control with official regiments of warriors from the kingdom.
Unnecessary Fact of the Day: The tomato, now a global staple, is native to the Andes and was domesticated in Mexico. Did you know that Europeans initially considered it poisonous?
P.S. My computer definitely crashed, but the only option I found to cope with the bad time it put me through was to keep writing. So I borrowed my little brother's computer, and here we are... I managed to catch up and I hope it doesn't crash again.
By the way, thank you so, so much for your support. You have no idea how happy it makes me to see how many new, loyal readers have supported the novel with power stones and by commenting from time to time.
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Read my other novels.
#The Walking Dead: Vision of the Future (Chapter 73)
#The Walking Dead: Emily's Metamorphosis (Chapter 20)
#The Walking Dead: Patient 0 - Lyra File (Chapter 6)
You can find them on my profile.]