Chapter 24 — The Cross Over Tenochtitlan
Valley of Anahuac, Year of Our Lord 1274
I. The Golden Lake
The morning mist hung over the valley like smoke from incense.Before Admiral Hernando de Aybar, the City of Tenochtitlan gleamed upon its lake — white palaces rising from the waters, causeways stretching like arms toward the mountains.
"By God's grace," murmured Fray Sebastián beside him, "it is more beautiful than Rome."
Hernando nodded, shading his eyes.
"And just as proud," he said. "Let us pray beauty does not become its defense."
Behind them, the Aragonese banners rippled in the breeze — the crowned cross reflected in the shimmering lake.Canoes filled with warriors and nobles approached from the city, their paddles moving in perfect rhythm.At their head stood a tall man robed in turquoise and gold: Tlatoani Izteloc, the ruler of the Mexica.
He stepped ashore with measured grace, his dark eyes studying the pale men before him — their steel, their beards, their strange flags that shone like the sun.
II. The Parley of the Two Suns
They met in the gardens of floating lilies, beneath banners of feather and silk.
Through interpreters, Hernando spoke first.
"I come in peace, as servant of Emperor Leon of Aragon and of the One True God who made heaven and earth. We seek friendship, trade, and faith — not war."
Izteloc's expression remained unreadable.
"You speak of one god," he replied calmly, "but I see many suns in your eyes. Which one do you serve — the god of gold, or the god of heaven?"
The words struck like a spear.Even Fray Sebastián hesitated, his hand clutching the small crucifix at his chest.
"We serve the God who made both gold and heaven," Hernando said. "And we offer His peace — if your people will hear His name."
There was a pause — long, silent, trembling.Then, unexpectedly, Izteloc smiled.
"You are brave men," he said. "Tonight, you will feast in my city. Let us speak not of gods, but of friendship."
III. The Feast of Feathers
That night, Tenochtitlan blazed with torchlight.The Spaniards were led through streets paved with obsidian and crowned with flowers.Musicians played drums and flutes, dancers circled around fires, and the air was heavy with the scent of chocolate and burning sage.
At the Great Temple's foot, Hernando sat beside the Tlatoani, drinking from golden cups.
"You speak of empire," said Izteloc softly, "but here, we already have one. You speak of faith — yet your swords gleam brighter than your crosses. Tell me, Hernando of the West, can two suns share the same sky?"
Hernando set down his cup.
"If one reflects the other," he said. "We do not come to eclipse you — only to join our light with yours."
The Tlatoani's gaze flickered, unreadable again.Then, somewhere among the priests, a shout rose — angry, shrill, filled with fear.
"They blaspheme the gods! They seek to end the blood of the sun!"
The feast turned to chaos.
IV. The Night of Knives
It began with drums — fast, thunderous, relentless.Then the city erupted.
Arrows hissed from rooftops.Canoes rammed Aragonese barges in the canals.Fires rose on the causeways as war cries split the air.
Hernando's men rallied by torchlight, shields locking, muskets flashing.
"Hold the line!" he roared. "To the temple! Make the square our fortress!"
Fray Sebastián clutched his crucifix, shouting prayers over the wounded.The Tlatoani's soldiers, painted red and gold, surged through the smoke like shadows of the old gods.
For two days and nights, the city burned.Temples fell, bridges collapsed, and the lake turned red.
On the third dawn, Hernando's banner still flew — tattered but standing — atop the Great Temple itself.
V. The Cross Over the City
At sunrise, Hernando climbed the temple's bloodstained steps.Around him, the smoke cleared, revealing the lake glittering below — and beyond it, silence.
He raised his sword high, its blade catching the light of the new sun.Beside him, Fray Sebastián lifted a wooden cross — carved hastily from a ship's mast.
"For every life lost," Hernando said hoarsely, "let there be a prayer said.For every god we have toppled, let mercy rise in its place."
He drove the cross into the stone.The soldiers below fell to their knees, some weeping openly.
The drums of war were replaced by the peal of distant bells — melted from captured bronze, now cast into the shape of a new church.
VI. The Baptism of the New World
Weeks later, Izteloc himself — wounded, proud, unbroken — stood in the courtyard of the new cathedral.He faced Hernando in silence, then spoke:
"You have conquered my city," he said. "But I would rather kneel to one God than serve many false ones. Let your cross stand.But remember — it was not your sword that won, but your faith."
He knelt.The first drops of holy water fell upon his head.
"I name you Don Izteloc of Anahuac," Fray Sebastián declared. "Child of God and friend of the Aragonese crown."
And so, beneath the banners of both eagle and cross, the Kingdom of Mexico was proclaimed — the first colony of the Aragonese Empire in the Americas.
VII. The Emperor's Decree
When news of victory reached Manila, Emperor Leon I stood before the Imperial Council.He held the letter bearing Hernando's seal, its ink smudged by blood and sea.
"From the ashes of old worlds," Leon said, "a new Christendom is born.The light of Aragon now burns in both East and West."
He turned to the map behind him — now stretching from the Pacific to the Caribbean.His hand rested upon both Mexico and Manila.
"Let the oceans no longer divide us," he said. "They are the arteries of one empire — the Empire of Faith."
Outside, the bells of Manila and Seville rang together for the first time.
End of Chapter 24