PREVIOUSLY.
[Zasaba fell silent for a moment, observing the resolve etched upon my face. "The Kingdom is ready, Young Chuta. The vessels advance under your guidance… If all goes according to our design, they should return in little more than a month."
I stood staring at the blank map of the Pacific resting upon my table. Somewhere within that blue immensity, my men sought a dream that only I knew existed. Meanwhile, within the manor, my betrothed spoke of a future I did not yet dare to imagine. Between the islands we had yet to discover and the children yet to be born, I felt that this year was, truly, the year in which the world began to shed its skin.]
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Year 12 of the SuaChie Calendar, Eighth Month.
Streets of Dawn City (Cuba), Federal Region of the Floating Islands (Caribbean).
Dawn City did not merely vibrate; it breathed with a giant lung composed of thousands of souls reclaiming their place in history. Two months have passed since Zasaba and I discussed the fate of the Sunset (Pacific), and the change in the air is almost tangible. The harbor, in the distance, was a tangle of masts and cries in half a dozen languages, but today my objective was to immerse myself in the social fabric that sustained all that economic machinery.
I walked discreetly—or at least I attempted to—clad in a simple linen tunic that did not announce my status, though my three betrothed at my side made passing unnoticed an impossible task.
Umza, Nyia, and Turey were radiant suns that drew every gaze, not only for their beauty but for the natural authority they emanated. Around us, an escort of civil security guards tried to blend into the crowd, but their broad shoulders and hands ever near the pommels of their short swords betrayed them to anyone with a modicum of instinct.
"Look at the color of those fabrics," Umza said, pointing to a stall where a man of Mayan features displayed blankets dyed with a blue so deep it seemed to hold the ocean within. "It is the blue of the ancients, yet the weave is as firm as our own."
That was the miracle of Dawn. The streets were a human kaleidoscope.
We saw the natives of our continental regions—Muisca, Pijao, Tairona, among many others—people from the FRFI or the Chibcha Federal Region (Central America), mingling with those the Kingdom had rescued from the darkness.
My policy of purchasing and liberating slaves had transformed the island's demography, as well as that of other distant settlements. There were entire families from the plateau: Mayans, Aztecs, and Purépecha who had left behind sacrifices and tributary wars. There were also those brought from Guanza Quyca (Africa) and those whom the Europeans surrendered as "currency" to settle commercial debts.
I paused to observe a group of African men working in a carpentry workshop. They had been fed, healed from the fevers of the transatlantic voyage, and studied by our medical scribes. Those without serious criminal records were integrated as free citizens into the new settlements.
Watching them laugh while sharing a midday meal with a Purépecha artisan filled me with a bittersweet satisfaction. I knew that slavery still existed in the deepest corners of the Kingdom—a custom difficult to eradicate from allied cultures—but here, in Dawn City, the air smelled of freedom.
"Chuta, I am hungry. And when I say hungry, I mean I must taste everything on that corner," Umza announced, shattering my solemn thoughts.
We ventured into the gastronomic sector, a sensory assault of aromas intertwining in the humid air. The scent of burning wood, exotic spices, and roasted meat formed a dense cloud over the market.
Turey, whose Taíno heritage made her feel at home under this sun, was the first to act.
We stopped at a stall from the Floating Islands serving meats smoked with local woods. I saw her eyes narrow, and though her face maintained that mystic expressionlessness, a faint trace of saliva appeared at the corner of her mouth.
She ate with a silent greed; sampling morsels of smoked boar and white fish seasoned with a paste of achiote and tart fruits. Then, she discovered a stall serving fruits with a thick, sweet cream—an innovation from the "Home of Za." Upon tasting it, for a fleeting millisecond, I saw a spark of pure human joy in her pupils.
Nyia and Umza, however, dragged us toward the stalls that smelled of the mountain lands. There, maize and potato were kings. We ate stuffed arepas, boiled potatoes with herbal sauces that Nyia identified with botanical precision, and stews that were exact replicas—or improvements—of the dishes my mother had championed at the Home of Za.
"This is acceptable," Nyia said, wiping herself with elegance and a touch of shyness. "But that stall over there... the one with the fried insects... Chuta, do not let Umza force me near it."
We approached the plateau stalls out of curiosity. The Aztecs and Mayans offered a gastronomy that was a challenge to the Suaza palate. The aroma of spicy chili was so potent it made passersby sneeze. I saw dishes decorated with toasted grasshoppers and sauces of a violent red.
The idea of eating insects horrified my betrothed, but I remained fascinated by the blend of tomato and avocado. I tried a freshly made tortilla, filled with shredded meat and a creamy avocado paste. The contrast of temperatures and textures was a technological revelation in itself.
All this culinary richness was the result of unprecedented cross-pollination.
We had included proteins from the plains of Northern Quyca, European preservation techniques, and spices that our ships brought from every corner of the continent and beyond the seas. Seeing my betrothed enjoy this multicultural banquet made me realize that the Kingdom was no longer a sum of tribes, but a new entity—an identity defined by what it shared at the table.
After becoming "dangerously satisfied," as Umza joked, the three decided to return to the Stone Manor. The heat and the excess of food had left them longing for a nap in the cool rooms of the grand house. I, however, felt a restless energy. I bid them farewell with a kiss on each of their foreheads—causing Nyia's nth blush—and continued my march.
My next stop was the infrastructure of the soul: the buildings that would define the city's identity beyond commerce.
I walked toward the new stadium and sports center on the outskirts. They were imposing structures, with stands of hewn stone and perfectly leveled fields. The stadium smelled of freshly cut grass and lime.
Seeing it, I recalled Foza's report on the region's first football tournament. Sport had become the great equalizer. It did not matter where you came from; when the ball rolled, everyone spoke the same language. I imagined the stands filled with thousands of people of different races cheering for the same team… That was the cohesion I needed.
I passed the library, a building of high ceilings and large windows designed to harness natural light without damaging the parchments. I saw officials moving bundles of books printed on our presses. They were the first systematic records of our history, laws, and scientific knowledge presented on the Island, at least to the general public.
Next door, the theater already displayed its silk curtains and masks ready for the first performances. These were the luxuries of a society no longer concerned merely with survival, but with understanding its existence.
After a brief rest in a park, where I watched a group of children from diverse backgrounds kicking a rubber ball with astonishing skill, I headed to my final destination of the day: the middle school.
This institution was my greatest pride and my greatest fear.
We had established basic education—reading, elementary mathematics, religion and culture, sports, art, and civics—as a universal right, but the middle school was the bridge to the future. As I crossed the threshold, the roar of the market was replaced by the murmur of study.
I saw classrooms filled with youths, but also adults. Many were former slaves or migrants who had arrived at Dawn with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Now, they sat before wooden chalkboards, learning languages for trade, mid-level mathematics for engineering, and basic sciences to understand the world around them.
I stopped before the blacksmithing workshop. A mature man, with scars on his back that spoke of a painful past in the mines of the plateau, was concentrated on bending a metal bar under the supervision of a Suaza master. His eyes reflected not fear, but a childlike wonder. He was discovering that his hands could create beauty and utility, not just extract wealth for others.
In another classroom, a young Tairona woman discussed a map of the Kingdom with an elder of African origin. They were studying history and geography, understanding that the world was much larger than their villages of origin.
That look of joy, of insatiable curiosity and wonder at knowledge, was what made me feel whole. My early years had been a race against time, which was not just to surpass the Europeans in ships or cannons; it was to elevate these peoples to a state where no one could ever chain their minds again.
"It seems everything moves in the right direction… Will it be necessary to bring more innovations?" I mused as I walked away, lost in thought.
As I left the school, the sun began to tint the sky orange and purple over the sea. I felt secure. The Suaza Kingdom was not merely a military empire or a commercial power; it was becoming a beacon of civilization. As long as the youths and adults of the middle school continued to look at the world with such wonder, the future I so feared was, at last, in good hands.
The Following Day.
The dawn brought a fresh breeze that dissipated the residual swelter of the previous day's feast. I rose with a clear goal, though my body still remembered the excess of spices and sugars from the street stalls.
To compensate, I opted for a light breakfast: an infusion of bitter herbs and a few slices of fresh fruit. As I ate, my mind reviewed the pending items on my agenda. There was one place that, in the whirlwind of my return, I had neglected: the Advanced Academy of Dawn City.
This institution was the crown jewel of education in the Federal Region of the Floating Islands (FRFI). It was the second of its kind in the islands, following in the footsteps of the Regional Academy in the capital of the FRFI. Both followed the educational model of the first academy, the Simte Academy in Central City.
At the thought of Simte, the High Priest, I felt a pang of nostalgia. His wisdom and his faith in my vision had been the pillars upon which I built the educational system that today allowed the Kingdom not only to survive, but to prosper.
I stepped out of the Stone Manor and plunged into urban life.
The streets of Dawn already bustled with that frenetic energy so familiar to me. The air was heavy with the scent of freshly baked bread and the metallic ring of workshops waking up.
Merchants shouted their offers, while the military patrolled with rhythmic strides, occasionally intervening in minor market disputes with a calmed firmness. I saw children running with their leather satchels toward the basic schools, and I paused for a second to observe a horse-drawn carriage—one of our most recent incorporations—transporting construction supplies.
I arrived at the Academy within minutes. Like my residence, the academic complex was situated in a quieter zone, away from the din of the harbor and the commercial center. As I passed through the high white stone walls, I was received by the Director of the Academy and an aide sent by Zasaba.
I greeted the aide with a brief gesture. I noted in the position of his hands and the subtle tilt of his head the codes of the Shadows. A wave of relief washed down my spine; with them, I did not need the mask of divine superiority nor the stifling formalities of protocol. They were my eyes and ears, and they knew the real Chuta.
"Young Chuta," said the Director, an elderly man with eyes that gleamed with intelligence. "It is an honor that you dedicate your time to see the fruit of your guidance."
The Director led me first toward the practical learning workshops. If the middle schools formed competent artisans, the Academies produced masters and innovators. Here, science and technique joined hands in a revolutionary embrace.
We passed through the metallurgical workshops.
The heat was intense, and the rhythmic striking of hammers echoed against the stone walls. I observed the tools: many were already of simple steel, forged with the tempering techniques I had introduced years ago. I could not suppress an ironic smile.
Here, in a center of study, steel was a common tool, whereas, on the battlefront against the Mexica, my soldiers fought mostly with bronze and obsidian. Yet, I knew it was right. Steel was a precious resource that must feed industry first; against the cotton and wooden armor of the Mexica, steel was an excess that could wait.
Later, passing another workshop, I stopped to speak with a young student who devotedly stroked the wooden hull of a scale model.
"It is an impressive design, Young Chuta," he told me with a trembling voice. "The Yaguar is the perfection of the water. Thank you for bringing us this knowledge from the heavens."
I patted him on the shoulder, realizing that for him, as for most people in the kingdom, my memory of the future was simply "divine knowledge."
Further on, in the alloy workshop, I found a Muisca examining a series of crucibles. His notes were filled with exact proportions of copper and zinc.
"I am complementing the work of a fellow researcher from the Simte Academy," he explained with pride. "I believe we are one step away from achieving a more resistant and golden metal."
I reviewed his notes. He was, indeed, on the verge of discovering brass. I made a discreet sign to the Director.
"Ensure he does not lack for budget," I whispered. "Brass will be vital for our nautical instrumentation, civil use, and artistry."
The Director nodded, understanding the weight of what he saw, while the man, oblivious to it all, did not know that soon his work and diligence would yield impressive and beneficial results for him.
We left the workshops to stroll through the theoretical study halls.
Through the carved wooden windows, I glimpsed scenes that filled me with pride.
In one hall, Umza led a class with her usual energy. She was teaching European languages: Spanish, Portuguese, and English.
"Listen well!" I heard her vibrant voice. "Understanding these tongues is the key to understanding their masters… Latin is the root, as Muisca is for our cousins of the cordilleras. If you master the root, the tree of European knowledge shall be yours to prune."
I was amused thinking that Umza had become an exceptional polyglot, using her charm to motivate the Kingdom's future diplomats.
In another hall, quieter and bathed in sunlight, was Nyia. She did not shout; she demonstrated. She stood before a canvas, teaching techniques of perspective and chiaroscuro that we had adapted from the painters sent by the European courts.
Her calm was absolute, and the respect of the students—many older than she—was palpable. Nyia, at nearly fifteen, was a mistress of detail, and seeing her transmit that art made me feel that beauty, too, was a form of resistance.
Just as we were concluding the tour and discussing the students to be transferred to the military research school—those with colder, more strategic minds, those investigating key matters for the future—a messenger from the Shadows approached at a run.
"Lord, Chancellor Zasaba requests your immediate presence at the Council House. The envoys from the Sunset have returned."
My heart skipped a beat. Without wasting a second, I bid the Director farewell and headed to the Council House. Upon entering the boardroom, I found Zasaba standing beside a group of naval officers. They were caked in salt spray, their skin weathered by a sun different from that of the Caribbean. Furthermore, I could tell by their weary faces that they had taken no rest to reach here as swiftly as possible.
One of the officers attempted to snap to attention immediately, but I stayed him with a gesture.
"At ease, officer," I said, feigning a tone of annoyance to break the tension. "I have always told you that if the information is not an imminent declaration of war, the informant must take water and rest first."
The officer blinked, confused but visibly grateful. His eyes shone with the euphoria of success.
"Lord..." he began with a raspy voice. "We have done it... The islands are there. Just as you said… We found them."
I listened to his report with an intensity that made me forget the rest of the world. When he mentioned the names I remembered—Hawaii, Honolulu, Oahu—I felt a chill. The future was materializing before my eyes. The officer detailed the routes and, most importantly, the times.
"A Tequendama II would take between 40 and 45 days outbound," he explained, pointing to the navigation charts. "Returning is slower, between 65 and 70 days due to the currents. The Tequendama I is somewhat more agile, but the jewel is the Yaguar. Lord, that ship flies over the waves. It could cross in 28 to 33 days outbound."
I was surprised by the figure for the Yaguar's one-way trip.
"And the return time for the Yaguar?" I asked.
"Some 60 days, Lord… It took us 66 because we diverted north seeking the cold currents you mentioned, and we were not prepared for that climate. But the warm clothing you ordered included in the emergency inventory saved our lives... Thank you, Young Chuta. You foresaw even the cold of the sea."
I remained silent, processing the data. The logistics were established. The bridge to the rest of the world was built. We were no longer a kingdom confined to a continent; we were a power beginning to dominate the largest ocean on the planet.
"Zasaba," I said, looking at my chancellor. "Prepare the supplies. I want the next fleet to carry seeds, tools, and more artisans. Hawaii will not be merely a stop; it will be the heart of our network in the Sunset."
The afternoon sun filtered through the windows, illuminating the map of the Pacific which now, at last, was no longer blank. The Suaza Kingdom had claimed its place upon the ocean.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
I won't be brief today, haha.
First, I'm really sorry for the delay, but I don't know what's been going on with me lately. I'll make progress on a topic in the novel, and then something else will come up that I can research, and I'll end up spending three or four hours immersed in it.
For example, there was a new reader, who I don't know if he's still reading, who was from Africa, and I mentioned to him my idea of recreating Race Against Time for an African kingdom, and I ended up spending five hours researching the Songhai Empire. Which doesn't bother me, but it does put me behind on the chapters.
Let's get back to the chapter.
The chapter continues from the meeting with Zasaba. The perspective of the explorers in Hawaii was a complement to the previous historical events, although we won't actually delve much deeper into the topic. It will help you understand the difference between future European explorations and those of the Suaza, who will seem to have the advantage, but it will be about Hawaii as territory of the Kingdom.
By the way, the rest of the chapter (except for the meeting with the naval officer) is dedicated to showing the city's growth and the cultural exchanges that have been going on for almost four years now, two for the Europeans.
Also, if you think it's necessary for me to explain in a chapter how the research is done, what the technological advancements are like, just ask (although I doubt you'll want it; it's very tedious). Otherwise, as always, I'll provide indirect information on these topics, just as I did in this chapter.
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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.]