PREVIOUSLY
["And while we speak of unions and prosperity... King Henry has asked me to raise the proposal once more. Leader Chuta, your kingdom is a giant. A formal alliance with His Majesty's daughter, Princess Margaret, would be more than an honor; it would be the most formidable treaty of peace and commerce the world has ever seen. Do you not think it time to consider a fourth bond?"
His gaze was expectant. He knew that behind this 'friendship,' England sought to secure a permanent seat upon the throne of the Suaza Kingdom.]
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Year 13 of the SuaChie Calendar, Third Month (May 1495).
Dawn City (Cuba), Federal Region of the Floating Islands (FRFI).
Meeting Hall, House of the Council.
The air in Dawn City always carried that humid, saline weight, a constant reminder that we were bound by the sea. Yet, inside the House of the Council, a different scent prevailed: fresh timber, resin, and the metallic tang of precision tools.
I rubbed my temples, feeling the accumulated exhaustion of a grueling week. Since the return of the joint expedition, my schedule had become a battlefield. I had spent days listening to the explorers' reports, analyzing the movements of the Shadows in European courts with Zasaba, and contending with the diplomatic—and somewhat unsettling—insistence of Edward de Vere.
The echo of his words regarding Princess Margaret still lingered like a cold draft at the back of my neck.
A fourth bond. A permanent seat for England upon my throne.
I shook my head to clear those thoughts; I needed to focus on something more tangible now—something that could float and withstand the onslaught of two oceans.
I looked down at the blueprints spread across the great mahogany table.
At times, the memory of my previous life was a frustrating tool. I could perfectly visualize the silhouette of a modern destroyer or the aerodynamics of a 21st-century luxury yacht, yet I lacked the 15th-century naval engineering calculations required to bridge the gap between my vision and the reality of the Suaza shipyards.
In my mind, I held clear memories: the basic physics of Archimedes' buoyancy, the strength of materials I had once skimmed in a documentary, and simplified hull schematics I had seen on the internet for strategy games.
"We have come far," I murmured to myself, tracing my finger along the drawing of a Tequendama II. "But we have marched blindly far too often."
I recalled the early years, back in Year 4 of the SuaChie Calendar. In those days, the most complex vessels we could muster were large boats and small ships—what we now call Guaraguaos.
We were methodical, yes. We implemented the sternpost rudder, combined lateen and square sails, and pulley systems that my knowledge of the future allowed me to 're-discover.' But everything was first tested on a miniature scale. That caution saved us from total disaster, but it did not spare us from the pangs of learning.
My greatest stumble—the one that stung every time I caught sight of a Spanish caravel—was the treatment of timber. It was something I had only noticed through a stroke of coincidence and mistrust during the initial trade treaties conducted by Chewa.
In my past life, wood was something you bought already processed; I hadn't remembered that inefficient seasoning could condemn a hull to rot or structural warping in less than two years. Witnessing the durability of European ships had dealt me a necessary lesson in humility: my knowledge of the future was no substitute for the technical expertise of centuries past.
A sharp knock at the door interrupted my reflections.
The heavy wooden leaf creaked open, and Umzye entered the hall. His breath was ragged, and his official tunic, though elegant, bore dark damp patches at the shoulders and hem.
"Leader Chuta... honorable members," he said, giving a quick bow as he caught his breath. "I offer my most sincere apologies for this unpardonable delay."
"Take your seat, Umzye," I replied with a gentle gesture, dismissing the matter. "The weather between the FRFI capital and Dawn City hasn't been kind these past few days."
"The wind was against us, and the rain in the channel was near blinding," he explained, sitting down stiffly. "The journey took twice as long as anticipated."
I noticed a drop of water sliding down his neck. Despite the urgency of the meeting, it sparked a small, internal flicker of amusement. I have always advocated for my officers to rest after difficult travels, but I knew Umzye was far too responsible to ask for a reprieve. The engineers and naval officers present nodded with respect; in the Suaza Kingdom, the word of one who has crossed the Sunset Ocean (Pacific) carries the weight of gold.
"Very well, now that we are all here," I began, standing and leaning my hands upon the table, "let us get to the heart of the matter. Our navy is the Achilles' heel and, simultaneously, the shield of this kingdom."
Those present leaned forward, sensing the gravity of my tone.
"The status quo in the Sunrise Ocean (Atlantic) favors us for now. The Europeans respect us because they need us, but that need has an expiration date. We cannot rest upon our laurels. We require a massive fleet, not only here but in the Sunset Ocean as well. But it is not enough to build more ships; we must build them better, and we must build them faster."
I paused, allowing the concept of 'standardization' to sink in.
"I propose that we standardize every process. From the selection of timber in the forests of the Andean region to the final bronze or iron nail in the shipyards across the entire Suaza Kingdom."
I paused to look specifically at the engineers and technicians graduating from the Naval Academy and the Royal Academies.
"We need construction tools that are identical in every port and repair manuals that any shipwright can follow, whether he is in the FRFI or on the coast of Guanza Quyca (Africa). Innovation is not merely inventing something new; it is making what already works perfect and replicable."
A naval officer—a man of broad shoulders and a sun-weathered face named Guhua, serving under Cuhuca, the Director of Military Research—asked for the floor with a firm gesture and stood.
"Leader Chuta, the standardization of which you speak is vital for logistics, but if I may..." he paused, weighing his words, "I believe we must also look into the very bowels of the ship... I refer to the armaments."
"Artillery falls under a different department, Officer," I intervened calmly. "Today, the focus is naval structure."
Guhua did not back down; his eyes shone with the spark of a man who has seen combat firsthand.
"That is precisely my point, Leader. If we improve the processes and tools, making our ships lighter and more resilient, we must not view weapons as something merely 'added' later. If our weapons improve—if we make the Juracán (cannons) lighter yet more powerful, and the Gataza (arquebuses) gain more range—the ship itself must be designed around that power."
He stepped closer to the table, pointing to the deck of one of the blueprints.
"I do not want transport ships with cannons... I suggest we plan for total synergy. Ships whose sole reason for existence is combat. Artillery platforms that move with an agility the Europeans cannot even dream of. Establishing exclusively military vessels would grant us a tactical advantage that would compensate for any numerical difference in the future."
I remained silent for a moment, processing his suggestion. He was right. I was thinking like a ruler seeking commercial efficiency, but Guhua was thinking like a strategist who knows that peace is only maintained by holding a bigger hammer than your neighbor.
"Synergy," I repeated the word, savoring it. "Shipbuilding and artillery power as a single body. It is an ambitious proposal, Officer. And it is exactly the kind of thinking we need so that the Suaza Kingdom is not just a giant, but one that no one dares to challenge."
I looked at Umzye, who was already scribbling feverishly while the others remained lost in thought. The frantic scratching of Umzye's quill upon the parchment was the only sound filling the brief silence that followed my words. The man was not just doing his duty; his eyes gleamed with that spark of technical ambition possessed only by those who love the sea and the roar of gunpowder. Seeing him so devoted to the idea of 'synergy' confirmed that we had struck a fundamental chord.
I looked at Guhua. The officer stood firm, a mix of respect and expectation on his weathered face. I knew that in an expanding kingdom like ours, merit had to be rewarded with the same speed at which excellence was demanded.
"Guhua," I said, breaking the silence and drawing every eye. "You have not merely contributed a technical idea; you have charted a doctrine that the kingdom will likely follow for generations. I do not want this thought to be lost in the corridors of a single shipyard."
I made a dramatic pause, letting the weight of my gaze sweep the room.
"As of today, you are promoted within your department. But we shall not stop there: I will send my personal recommendation for you to take a seat on the Naval Military Council. We need that vision of 'unity of purpose' where the great decisions are made."
The air in the room seemed to vibrate. Umzye, catching my intent to make Guhua an example of upward mobility for the others, stood with a solemnity that made his damp uniform creak. He looked Guhua straight in the eye.
"It shall be done as the Leader commands," Umzye declared with a voice of authority. "Prepare yourself, Guhua. Tomorrow morning, we shall review your credentials for the Council."
The hall erupted in murmurs of congratulation. The other engineers and officers crowded around Guhua, clapping his shoulders. Visibly moved yet maintaining his composure, he approached me first and then Umzye, thanking us with a deep bow and promising that his loyalty and effort would rise to the height of the honor received.
When calm returned, I took the floor again, softening my tone but maintaining my focus.
"It is a victory, yes, but let us keep our feet on the deck. For now, we still depend on trade and transport for the kingdom to breathe. We cannot turn all our ships into floating fortresses overnight. However, …" I pointed to the blueprint of a Yaguar, "we have these. They are fast ships, derived from the Tequendama I, but lower, sleeker."
I made a circular gesture over the map where the available Yaguars were stationed. One in the Sunset Ocean and three in the Sunrise Ocean. These ships were like the future 'ships of the line,' where the high forecastles and stern castles disappeared, and the cannons were housed below deck on various gun-decks, depending on the vessel's capacity.
"I propose that the Yaguars be the first to adopt these improvements. We will deploy them for patrol and monitoring, but with the adjustments proposed by Guhua, they will become our military force par excellence. Fast to hunt, heavy to strike... However, we must wait for the meeting with the military innovation team to make the final adjustments."
A murmur of unanimous approval swept the table. Guhua nodded with a satisfied smile; he saw his vision taking shape in wood and bronze.
We then gave way to the naval researchers.
One of them, a man with resin-stained hands and eyes weary from study, unfurled a series of field reports. His voice was technical and direct as he spoke of the failings found by researchers and shipyard workers: tools whose hardness varied by batch, dry docks plagued by leaks, and, most concerningly, a total lack of uniformity between what was built in the FRFI and what was produced in the mainland shipyards.
As the researcher spoke, I sank slightly into my chair, watching the dust motes dance in the shafts of light streaming through the windows. I had already read those reports, and the truth was they gave me a retrospective chill.
We had been lucky. Very lucky. Any engineer from my previous life would have put their head in their hands seeing how we had evaded structural disasters. The tool failures weren't critical to safety, but they made the finishing of each vessel a nightmare of constant revisions, delaying deliveries by entire months.
And the dry docks... they were our most cutting-edge technology and, therefore, the least understood. Many new builders, who hadn't passed through the Royal Academies or the Naval Academy itself, treated the processes of draining and shoring as if they were black magic, creating exasperating bottlenecks.
We were growing faster than our technical base could digest, but these were risks we had to take. I cleared my throat with a dry cough, reclaiming control of the meeting.
Everyone fell silent immediately.
"Gentlemen, the diagnosis is clear: we are working as artisans when we should be working as an industry."
I stood up and walked to the chalkboard.
"I propose the implementation of Mass Production. From now on, we shall use Master Templates and Interchangeable Parts. Every part of a ship will be built based on clear blueprints, and its components will be identical, without variation."
"If a rudder breaks on a Guaraguao or a Tequendama II in the middle of the ocean, any spare manufactured in any shipyard of the kingdom must fit perfectly. There shall be standard measurements and standardized processes in every shipyard."
I drew a simple flow diagram of materials.
"To avoid supply delays and loss of quality, each region will manage its own flow of tools and materials under the supervision of their Regional Governors. The Central Kingdom will not be the supplier of every nail; it will be the auditor ensuring that nail measures exactly what it should and that every part meets the required quality."
"Leader Chuta, this means each region must have its own timber industries and foundries, does it not?" one of the naval officers asked, noting the changes this decision would bring and the complexities tied to its implementation.
"Indeed... Only for crucial elements of primary use, such as cannons and specialized timber, will the kingdom supply from its current locations. The rest shall be crafted by local industries. However, I want to be clear: there must always be cooperation between the regions."
...
We spent the next half hour submerged in technical discussions regarding calibers, quality standards, and logistics. It was exhausting but necessary. Just as the air began to grow thick with heat, one of the researchers rose with enthusiasm.
"Leader Chuta, regarding the timber problem... we have had success in trials with small vessels. The use of steam kilns for controlled drying, with sequences of brine baths, stabilizes the fiber. The decay that plagued our first generation of ships has been reduced nearly to zero. And most importantly... we could cut the drying time in half, directly accelerating production speed. Furthermore, this can be applied to various other industries."
I nodded, allowing myself a small internal smile. It was the 'nudge' I had given them some years ago, and they had perfected it.
"And there is more," added another researcher, spreading a gleaming sheet upon the table. "We propose sheathing the submerged part of the hull with copper plates. It is the only effective way to combat shipworm and the parasites that devour wood in warm waters. Along with this, we can seal the hull with the new pitch mixtures we are distilling, increasing the lifespan of every ship."
Even the naval officers began tossing out suggestions: improvements to the rigging to facilitate maneuvers with a smaller crew, changes to the deck layout to improve stability.
I leaned back against the wall, watching them debate with passion. I felt a prickle of pride that nearly blurred my vision. At the beginning, I was the sole source of these 'ideas from the future,' the lone engine of a rusted machine. But now, the spark was no longer mine.
The technology of the Suaza Kingdom was starting to take on a life of its own, branching out and evolving in the hands of my people. My role was shifting from inventor to guide, and that was exactly what I needed for this world to survive without me.
...
When I finally left the House of the Council, the sun was already beginning its descent toward the horizon, staining the sky of Dawn City with hues of purple and orange that mirrored in the Caribbean waters. The air, saturated with salt and the scent of woodsmoke from nearby kitchens, hit my face with a comforting warmth. My lungs welcomed the change; the meeting hall, though majestic, had grown dense with the sweat and ambition of so many men.
I walked flanked by my usual escort, the rhythmic slap of their sandals on the stone pavement serving as a metronome for my thoughts. The city streets were a living organism: a hive of merchants hawking fabrics, laborers returning from the shipyards with clothes stained by pitch, and visitors gazing at our architecture with a mixture of envy and awe.
"Leader Chuta!" could be heard here and there, followed by respectful bows.
I responded with brief gestures, trying to process the whirlwind of the day. At a corner, I encountered the lanky figure of Edward de Vere. He was surrounded by his own retinue, escorting a group of English merchants who examined our wares with hawk-like eyes. Our gazes met. De Vere gave an impeccable bow, steeped in that courtly elegance that always adorned his movements.
"Leader," he greeted with a diplomatic smile.
"Lord de Vere," I nodded, without breaking my stride but maintaining courtesy. "I trust your dealings with our guilds prove fruitful."
After leaving him behind, the aroma from a street stall distracted me. In recent months, I had allowed myself the small luxury of being 'human' among my people. I stopped and bought a dessert of local fruits—mango and mamey macerated in a reduction of wild honey. The explosive sweetness on my tongue was the perfect balm for the mental fatigue I carried.
I arrived at the Stone Manor just as the first torches began to flicker upon the walls. As I crossed the threshold, the chaos of the city was left outside, replaced by the peace of my home.
"Where are they?" I asked one of the servants passing by with a silver tray.
"In Lady Nyia's art studio, my Lord," he replied with a smile. "They have been there much of the afternoon."
I walked toward the east wing of the manor. I did not announce my arrival; I preferred these moments of unfiltered domesticity. As I neared the studio, the scent of linseed oil and mineral pigments guided me. Through the arched entrance, I saw them.
Umza and Turey stood flanking Nyia, who held a brush in her hand but was not painting. The three were absorbed in front of a canvas that was not Nyia's work. I recognized the style immediately: it was one of the European paintings that Chewa periodically sent to Nyia as a gift.
It was a religious or mythological scene, I wasn't sure, but it stood out for the realism of the infant figures—cherubs or infants—with pale skin and curled hair, captured in a chiaroscuro that only the masters of the early Renaissance could command.
"Look at those folds in the skin," whispered Umza, the most expressive of them, leaning her face close to the canvas in fascination. "They look so soft... you can almost feel the warmth of those babes."
Umza let out a tender giggle and, without noticing my presence, continued with a naturalness that froze my blood:
"Can you imagine, Nyia? Imagine what Chuta's son will be like with that English princess. With that pearlescent skin and eyes, the color of the sky... He would be a precious child."
I paralyzed in the doorway. The fruit dessert, which seconds ago had tasted like heaven, turned bitter in my mouth.
Since the proposal of the union with Princess Margaret had reached my hands, I had discussed it with them. In this time and culture, polygamy and political marriages were the norm—a tool of statecraft as valid as a free trade treaty. They had shown no opposition; on the contrary, they saw the alliance with England as a logical step for the kingdom's security, and perhaps something worthy of my 'status.'
But the final traces of morality from my past life—those vestiges that refused to die—writhed in discomfort.
"Margaret is barely six years old," I thought, feeling a weight in my stomach.
Though the marriage would not be consummated for another decade, the mere idea of planning progeny with a child who was just learning to read and write produced an unbearable cognitive dissonance within me. For Turey, it was an aesthetic and diplomatic dream; for me, it was a reminder that, no matter how far this kingdom had advanced, I—or rather, my mind—remained a foreigner in its time.
I stayed there, in the shadow of the hallway, watching my three wives dream of a future that still caused me vertigo.
.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
Thank you all for your support. Let's get straight to the chapter comments.
CHAPTER COMMENTS
First, I know I said there wouldn't be any more meetings, but after thinking about it, I realized that was impossible. However, I want to clarify that the meetings will never be about trivial matters, such as discussing holidays or weddings.
For example, the next thing to be discussed will be some improvements to important industries and agricultural reforms, or an upcoming structural reform of the kingdom. Regional divisions will change, and a new map will be introduced.
Second, I want to clarify that I always based my assumptions on Chuta's luck regarding the kingdom's technological progress. Except perhaps for some more reasonable advancements.
While it's a bit far-fetched, or difficult to accept if we use our reasoning completely, it's still plausible.
Furthermore, I want to clarify that these problems were foreseen from the very first chapters; there are chapters where errors are mentioned.
Or in that very first trade agreement, when the Spanish refused to hand over naval technology even though the Suaza Kingdom was supposedly 'superior,' it was already foreseen that there would be accidents or other ways of realizing things, which would have led Chuta to improve or think of solutions.
AUTHOR'S COMMENTS
Two things.
First, I hadn't realized this chapter was so long.
But that's because I didn't want to start the next chapter with his walk through the city and the detail about Chuta's children with Margaret, hahaha.
Second, poor Chuta, he doesn't want to think about any more women. But they keep coming even though he doesn't ask for them.
I don't know how Chinese authors do it with their thousand harem members; they've already made it difficult for me to write about three.
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Read my other novels.
#The Walking Dead: Vision of the Future (Chapter 91) (ON HOLD)
#The Walking Dead: Emily's Metamorphosis (Chapter 34) (ON HOLD)
#The Walking Dead: Patient 0 - Lyra File (Chapter 14) (ON HOLD)
You can find them on my profile.]