Year 8 of the SuaChie Calendar, Texcoco.
The palace of Texcoco was resplendent in the afternoon light, its stone walls adorned with garlands of flowers and carved serpents that seemed to writhe beneath the sun's rays.
Nezahualpilli, Tlatoani (sovereign) of Texcoco at twenty-six years of age, sat upon a carved wooden bench in the palace library, surrounded by scrolls and codices that exhaled a faint scent of dry ink and bark.
The air was permeated with tranquility, broken only by the soft voice of one of his wives, Xochiquetzal, who was reciting a poem by his father, Nezahualcóyotl, with a cadence that evoked rivers and stars.
"O, night that sings with the voice of the wind, guide the heart towards eternal truth," she declaimed, while another wife, Citlali, leafed through a manuscript containing verses from forgotten poets.
Nezahualpilli, draped in his white cotton mantle embroidered with green threads, listened, rapt, his fingers lightly tracing a parchment. He had inherited his father's title at the age of nine, and with it, his love for poetry, art, and architecture.
Under his rule, Texcoco flourished as a cultural hub, its hanging gardens and libraries unrivaled in the Mexica alliance. But his political influence waned, eclipsed by the harsh policies of Tenochtitlán and his own pacifist stance, which relegated him to the background compared to the bellicose Mexica.
A servant burst in with quick steps, bowing low before Nezahualpilli.
"Lord, an emissary from Tenochtitlán brings a message from the priest Moctezuma."
Nezahualpilli frowned, dismissing his wives with a gentle gesture. Moctezuma, nephew of the Tlatoani Ahuízotl, was not to his liking. His interpretations of the codices, always inclined to favor Mexica supremacy, lacked the subtlety Nezahualpilli valued. The emissary, a young man in a simple cotton tunic, delivered a roll of amate paper.
"The High Priest summons the nobles for an urgent meeting," he said. "He speaks of omens and signs within the codices."
Nezahualpilli unrolled the message, his eyes scanning the precisely painted lines. "Another of his extreme visions," he thought, recalling how Moctezuma had requested Texcocan codices for his studies, only to twist divine messages into auguries of Mexica glory. The urgency of the message, however, carried a tone of obligation he could not ignore.
"Is it war with the Purépechas? Trouble with the Maya in the south?" he wondered, his mind drifting toward the Suaza Kingdom, a name that had surfaced in merchants' whispers.
"Tell Moctezuma I shall attend," he replied to the emissary, who departed with a reverence.
Alone in the library, Nezahualpilli took up a cream-colored sheet a merchant had brought him months earlier. It was soft, finer than amate, covered in symbols arranged in rows, similar to Nahuatl, but in a strange language.
"Suaza," he murmured, his curiosity kindled. Merchants had spoken of a kingdom beyond the jungles, with advanced ships and bronze tools. The idea of a people who united cultures without imposing their gods fascinated him—an echo of his father's ideals, who dreamed of a Texcoco free from Tenochtitlán's shadow.
Weeks Later.
Nezahualpilli returned to Texcoco after the meeting in Tenochtitlán, where Moctezuma and Ahuízotl had spoken of the Suaza Kingdom. Moctezuma's omens—comets, eclipses, a distant danger—seemed exaggerated to him, and his warning about the 'forbidden knowledge' of Suaza, an absurd restriction.
In the city, he had met Suaza merchants, dressed in white tunics with colorful embroidery at the waist, neck, and arms, adorned with gold and gems. Their Nahuatl, tinged with a soft accent, was fluid yet exotic. Dismissing Moctezuma's warnings, Nezahualpilli had invited them to Texcoco, eager to explore their literature and art.
Now, in the palace meeting hall, decorated with murals of rivers and stars, Nezahualpilli received a group of merchants, both from the alliance and from Suaza. Among them was Painalli, a young Mexica merchant who had brought Suaza products months ago: shimmering fabrics, exotic feathers, bitter cacao, jewels of an intense green, and that sheet of writing.
The hall smelled of fresh flowers and polished wood, and the light of the setting sun filtered through the windows, illuminating the tables laden with goods. Nezahualpilli, seated on a low throne, began the meeting with a warm smile.
"Noble merchants," he began, his voice gentle but authoritative, "Texcoco is a center of commerce and culture. Here, cacao is weighed with justice, feathers are woven with artistry, and jewels tell stories. I wish to establish a bond with the Suaza Kingdom, creating a bridge between our peoples... though perhaps this union could be closer with us in Texcoco."
The last phrase had been suggestive, a nuance noted by the alliance merchants close to Nezahualpilli, as well as the Suaza traders.
A Suaza merchant, wearing a white tunic embroidered in red, spoke. "Tlatoani, we are grateful for your openness. Other nobles have rejected us, but your words honor us. We bring fabrics, tools, and…"
He paused, pulling out a stack of cream-colored sheets covered in leather, inscribed in their language.
"Books, written in our tongue."
Nezahualpilli took the sheet, his fingers caressing the symbols.
"This is their writing," he thought with admiration. "I wish to know their literature, their poems, their histories."
He looked at Painalli, who remained silent, pulled him aside and whispered: "You, Painalli, brought these sheets before. What more do you know of Suaza?"
Painalli bowed his head, his voice guarded. "They are a people of merchants, Lord. Their books speak of their gods, their lands, their sciences. But they also possess their own literature."
"Although as I understand it… this is also forbidden by Tenochtitlán," Painalli added.
Nezahualpilli smiled, a spark of defiance in his eyes. "Moctezuma fears what he does not understand. In Texcoco, knowledge is a treasure."
Nezahualpilli rejoined the others after consulting with Painalli, and announced: "Our commerce shall be open for the permitted goods: fabrics, cacao, jewels. But we shall also seek… other treasures, discreetly."
The Suaza merchants exchanged glances, comprehending the insinuation. The 'unreported' commerce Nezahualpilli proposed would include the books and knowledge that Tenochtitlán had forbidden.
The idea of accessing Suaza culture—their poems, their sciences, their view of multiple gods—filled Nezahualpilli with an almost childlike enthusiasm. But beyond curiosity, he felt a greater purpose. His father had dreamed of an independent Texcoco, free from the Mexica yoke. This bond with Suaza, though risky, might be the first step towards that dream.
"If their ideas and knowledge strengthen Texcoco," he thought, "we could challenge Tenochtitlán's supremacy."
A Suaza merchant, wearing a gold necklace, spoke. "Tlatoani, our kingdom values friendship. We will bring more books, more art, as a gift, or do you desire anything else?"
"Your trust," Nezahualpilli replied. "And that this bond remains between us, away from the eyes of the alliance." The hall filled with an expectant silence, broken only by the song of a bird in the gardens. Painalli, observing it all, nodded slightly, as if guarding a secret.
As the merchants discussed details, Nezahualpilli felt a spark of hope. Texcoco, with its legacy of poetry and learning, could be reborn as a cultural beacon, independent and powerful. But he also knew this path was dangerous. Moctezuma, with his prophecies and fervor, would not brook betrayal.
"May the gods guide my steps," he thought, his gaze fixed on the Suaza sheet, where the symbols seemed to promise an uncertain but possibilities-laden future.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
Short chapter, too bad, but something similar happened to me with the previous one, so the next one will be longer.
By the way, there won't be a UFD, because short chapters aren't worth it, and I'm running out of ideas for what to show or teach you.
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Read my other novels.
#The Walking Dead: Vision of the Future. (Chapter 84)
#The Walking Dead: Emily's Metamorphosis. (Chapter 31) (INTERMITTENT)
#The Walking Dead: Patient 0 - Lyra File (Chapter 10) (INTERMITTENT)
You can find them on my profile]