Month 2 of the 11th Year of the SuaChie Calendar, Texcoco.
The afternoon sun leaned toward the west, bathing the twin summits of the Iztaccíhuatl and Popocatépetl volcanoes with a coppery and wistful light. Painalli, known in the Suaza Kingdom as Menasuca, crossed the main courtyard of Acolmiztli's palace in Texcoco.
Unlike severe and stony, yet bustling, Tenochtitlan, Nezahualpilli's capital was a celebration of life: gardens overflowed with vividly colored flowers, water gurgled in ponds lined with polished obsidian, and the air smelled of incense and fragrant local spices.
Dressed in the impeccable attire of a high-ranking merchant of the Triple Alliance, Menasuca moved with the calculated calm of a man who felt alien to his own skin. His clothes were a disguise; his mind, a sharp tool at the service of the Young Chuta and the Shadows.
He observed the Tlatoani's children, wives, and servants moving in the twilight. It was a home, not merely a seat of power, a contrast he valued in Nezahualpilli, whose benevolence was as genuine as his desire for autonomy.
A servant wearing the livery of the House of Texcoco led him through corridors painted with glyphs and poetry to a private chamber that opened onto an inner garden. It was a small room, draped with soft rugs and furs, illuminated by the reddish light filtering through a high opening. Nezahualpilli, clad in a simple mantle, waited, seated on a low throne carved from cedar wood.
"Painalli," the Tlatoani greeted him, his voice low and pleasant. "It is good to see you. Your face brings the peace of great markets and the fortune of distant routes."
"Tlatoani Nezahualpilli," Menasuca bowed with genuine respect. "The prosperity of Texcoco is our own. I hope your journey was calm and auspicious."
The Tlatoani gestured for the servant to withdraw. Only when the sound of the man's bare feet faded did the atmosphere turn serious.
"I visited Ahuízotl in Tenochtitlan last week," Nezahualpilli began, his amber eyes narrowing. "The Tlatoani of the Mexica is no longer content with the Flowery Wars, at least not with the current results. He has felt the dog's breath on his neck. He has noticed that the Tlaxcalans, despite our siege, have gained strength, not lost it. Their men are harder, their spears unbroken, a product of direct or indirect Suaza aid. He has ordered Cuitláhuac, Moctezuma's brother, to initiate an all-out war. He means to wipe Tlaxcala off the map."
Menasuca felt a chill of confirmation. The Shadows' information rarely failed.
"And what response did you give him, Tlatoani?"
Nezahualpilli smiled, a cunning gesture Menasuca admired. "I told him my heart is with the alliance, but that the prophecies and the heavens demand a pause. I have promised him to supervise two great constructions: the renovation of a temple for Huitzilopochtli and a new and glorious temple for Quetzalcóatl. This, I say, will appease the gods and grant us final victory. Though in reality, it buys us time."
Menasuca nodded, his face unreadable. "You have acted wisely, Tlatoani. With the temples, your excuse is irrefutable. It allows you to continue supporting with only auxiliary men, avoiding the shedding of Texcocan blood in a war that only benefits Tenochtitlan's ambition."
The Tlatoani leaned forward. "But Ahuízotl did not just ask for bricks. He also inquired about the most skilled man in commerce and logistics for a vital project: the construction of a fleet. Warships and trading vessels, to compete with the Suaza who circumnavigate the eastern and western seas. I have given your name, Painalli. He expects you to take charge of the project for the alliance."
A wave of strategic possibilities flooded Menasuca's mind, overshadowing any personal reservations. This is better than I could have planned.
"A seat at the Mexica's technical and economic decision table. It will give me access to their trade plans and their naval defenses. And, most importantly, I can subtly inject the Suaza influence and technology in a controlled manner, all while gathering key intelligence," Menasuca thought as Nezahualpilli watched him.
Menasuca looked up, assuming his role as a loyal subject. "I will take charge of this project with the diligence that Tlatoani Ahuízotl demands. The naval greatness of the Triple Alliance will be my sole goal."
"However, I will endeavor to ensure part of the fleet is at your disposal, Tlatoani," Menasuca added with a serious tone, though his expression remained otherwise.
Nezahualpilli interpreted Painalli's pensive tone as reluctance. "You seem hesitant, my friend. Is it because of Chimalatl?"
Menasuca tensed slightly. Chimalatl, Nezahualpilli's daughter, lived here under the protection and luxuries of the Texcoco palace, and taking her to Tenochtitlan would put her in danger.
"If I must go to Tenochtitlan, it is best that she remains here," Menasuca denied. "The Floating City, however glorious, is a place of bloody rituals, brutal politics, and diseases. I will not expose her to that danger, Tlatoani."
"You are right," Nezahualpilli conceded. "Here she will be safe under my roof. Tenochtitlan is a nest of serpents."
Having settled the personal matter, Nezahualpilli stood up, crossed the room, and returned with a small cylinder of paper sealed with wax that smelled of salt and sea.
"This is of greater strategic importance, Painalli," Nezahualpilli commented seriously. "It arrived several moons ago via a Suaza merchant, delivered in the most discreet manner. It is a secret letter. From a Suaza general. For me, to use freely."
Menasuca took the parchment, feigning studied surprise. He unrolled the paper. It was a copy of a Suaza military report. It gave precise details of the Tlaxcalans' new fallback positions and, crucially, the exact quantity and type of Suaza bronze weaponry they had sold to their enemies. The report header indicated the date: Month 8 of the SuaChie Calendar, Year 10.
Month 8, Year 10, Menasuca calculated internally. We are in Month 2 of Year 11. That is almost six months old. Menasuca knew that the number of bronze weapons sold was much higher now than what that paper from six moons ago indicated.
He recalled the most recent report from Zasaba, the leader of the Shadows: the Tlaxcalans were even planning an assault to take the Triple Alliance's coastal outposts on the Gulf, securing a direct and faster Suaza supply line. The report even flirted with the idea of Tlaxcala's annexation to the Suaza Kingdom in the coming years.
The delivery of this information was a masterstroke by Chuta. It was not about supporting Tlaxcala, but about empowering Nezahualpilli.
"Tlatoani," Menasuca said, folding the parchment and returning it, his feigned astonishment gone, replaced by cold logic. "The Suaza Kingdom is not intervening directly, that is obvious. The message in the parchment is a weapon."
"What do you mean?" he asked, seeking Menasuca to explain his point.
"It shows that the war will be prolonged; the Tlaxcalans, even in retreat, have the capacity to kill, and with this knowledge you could even defeat them more easily. It is not aid to Tlaxcala. It is a tool for Texcoco to gain power in this war."
Nezahualpilli stared at him, holding his breath. "A tool for me? You believe Chuta is giving me the knowledge so that I can balance the scales with Tenochtitlan?"
"Exactly," Menasuca replied, feeling a pang of hope for the young Tlatoani. "This information is not for Tenochtitlan. It is for you. It allows you to control the flow and the outcome of the war, prolonging it until the Mexica are exhausted."
"Ahuízotl's wars are costly and bloody," Menasuca continued. "If you, Tlatoani, appear to be the only one who can anticipate and win, even small battles, your prestige will rise. You can use this to justify refusing to send your men to the battle lines, just as you can use it to gain power over Ahuízotl."
Nezahualpilli leaned back on his throne, his initial surprise transforming into a slow, deep understanding. He let out a laugh, a dry but relieved sound. "You are an eagle, Painalli! I thought of the usefulness of the information, but not its political intention."
The sunset had ended, and the shadows of the hall lengthened until they devoured the room.
"And what do we do now, Painalli?" Nezahualpilli asked, his voice filled with new energy.
"Now, Tlatoani, you use the information," Menasuca replied. "Negotiate in secret with the Tlaxcalans, but with extreme caution, sending them indirect supplies to maintain the fight."
"At the same time, use misinformation in Tenochtitlan, predicting wrong movements so that Ahuízotl sends resources to useless places," Menasuca added seriously. "Keep the war latent and prolonged. The ultimate goal is parity: when the Aztec Empire is exhausted by war, with the Purépechas knocking at the door in the west and the Suaza indirectly exerting pressure. The only way out will be to recognize Texcoco as an equal, or perhaps, you will separate completely from the alliance."
Nezahualpilli stood up, his face illuminated by the weak light of the torches a servant had lit. "Separation. It is a dream I did not dare pronounce. Go to Tenochtitlan, Painalli. Build their ships, learn their secrets, and stay close to Ahuízotl. I will take care of moving the board here. The Suaza information has created an opening for Texcoco."
Menasuca nodded, his spy's heart feeling heavy with the impending distance from Chimalatl, but light with the success of his mission. "It shall be done, Tlatoani."
A week later.
The atmosphere in Tenochtitlan felt as different from the poetry and gardens of Texcoco as winter from summer.
Ahuízotl's palace, erected upon the hard basalt of the central islet, exuded imperial power: its walls were somber, its corridors wide and functionally severe, and the air, heavy with the lingering scent of burnt copal and the dried blood of recent sacrifices, vibrated with a contained and dangerous energy.
Menasuca, still Painalli to the Mexica court, was in a waiting antechamber. Cuauhtli (Eagle) and Ocelotl (Jaguar) warriors guarded every corner with the lethal stillness of statues. The bustle was neither cheerful nor domestic, but the metallic murmur of political intrigue and military logistics.
He used the time to center his mind, an exercise Zasaba had instilled in them: using memories as anchors or as strategies.
He recalled the farewell in Texcoco. Chimalatl, Nezahualpilli's fifteen-year-old daughter, had refused to look him directly in the eye, her lower lip trembling with a reluctance deeper than mere sorrow of separation.
"Menasuca will not be far," her father, Nezahualpilli, had told her, trying to calm her. "Only across the lake."
But Chimalatl's sadness stemmed from the prohibition, an order from her own father and Menasuca, and her affection for the latter. She, always curious, did not understand why she could not go to Tenochtitlan.
"This place is dangerous, Chimalatl," he had answered, softening his voice into a protective murmur. "Here, beauty is an offering, and I do not want my heart to worry while I serve the Alliance."
Menasuca, at twenty-three, felt that connection with her, the daughter of his ally, as a longing for normalcy in his dual life.
The Young Chuta had granted the Shadows the blessing to seek real ties, to found families within their posts, knowing that deep emotional bonds could be better anchors than any oath.
He was Painalli, a Mexica merchant with a noble future. But in his essence, he was Menasuca, a Shadow loyal to the Suaza Kingdom. Both identities constantly struggled: one for survival, the other for peaceful expansion.
When the waiting time extended, his mind traveled further, to the 7th Year of the SuaChie Calendar, when he was barely nineteen and was permanently infiltrated into Mexica territory.
He remembered his last conversation with Zasaba: "Your mission is to nullify the Mexica influence in commerce, and to earn Nezahualpilli's trust. Become the man they want you to be, but never forget who you are."
That duality was his life, and Tenochtitlan was now the crucible of his mission.
Half an hour later, a captain of the guard and an elderly servant summoned him. They led him down vast corridors, past gigantic tapestries embroidered with gold threads and quetzal feathers, to a hall that doubled the size of any room in Texcoco.
Ahuízotl, the Tlatoani of Tenochtitlan, sat on a ceremonial throne, his face grave and his body wrapped in ceremonial mantles. Around him were grouped nobles with jade necklaces, councilors whose faces were marked by politics, and the Palace Priest, with a penetrating gaze.
Menasuca knelt, bowing his head before the power that represented the heart of the Triple Alliance. He felt small, but his training kept him steady. He waited.
"Rise, Painalli," Ahuízotl commanded, his deep voice echoing in the chamber. "Nezahualpilli has spoken much of you, and has brought you to our Palace. But before discussing matters of state, we must honor Huitzilopochtli."
The Palace Priest began the rite. Copal was burned on an altar in front of a covered figure of the principal god. The air grew thick with the aromatic smoke, and prayers resonated, a solemn invocation of blood and destiny that contrasted violently with the open and flexible faith of the Suaza Kingdom, which had now set aside such rites. Menasuca participated in the ceremonies with the perfect devotion of his character, his mind recording every detail, every face in the room.
Once the rites were concluded, Ahuízotl addressed the audience. "Nobles of Tenochtitlan, Painalli, the skilled merchant, is with us. As you know, noble Texcoco, under the command of our nephew Nezahualpilli, agrees with me: the time for games with Tlaxcala is over. Our power is infinite, and victory will be total."
The nobles, always eager for blood and glory, cheered and congratulated the Tlatoani. Menasuca joined the congratulations with a bow that exuded the exact respect he owed his future benefactor.
"Painalli," Ahuízotl continued, fixing his dark eyes on Menasuca. "We have seen the Suaza ships on our coasts. Ships that ply the eastern and western seas, as if they were a pond. Nezahualpilli has assured me that you, with your ingenuity, can replicate that glory for the Triple Alliance. We need those ships for our commerce and for war."
Murmurs of intrigue and skepticism ran through the hall. No one believed that a simple Mexica merchant could match the engineering of this mysterious Suaza kingdom.
Menasuca, maintaining the superficial humility of an artisan, replied subtly. "Tlatoani, the strength of the Suaza resides in their central figure, Chuta. Their great ships, the Tequendama that cross the oceans, are beyond our capacity. For now. I can only offer something akin to their smaller vessels. What they call the Guaraguao for the coast, and perhaps their large boats, the Kaimán."
In his mind, Menasuca smiled.
The Suaza Guaraguao, classified as a small ship for coastal exploration, was itself a two-masted vessel with superior naval technology to anything the Triple Alliance possessed. Replicating that would already be a centuries-long leap for the alliance, and a perfect excuse to inject controlled knowledge.
Ahuízotl, sensing the unease of his councilors, raised an eyebrow. "And how is it that you, Painalli, a Mexica, possess this knowledge that not even our best naval builders have?"
Menasuca was prepared. His alibi was so logical that it seemed like the feat of an ambitious entrepreneur.
"Four years ago, Tlatoani," he began, his voice low and cautious, "in Tuxpan, our northern coastal city, I began trading with the Suaza. I became fascinated with their vessels. I used almost all my initial earnings to buy two of their large boats, the Kaimán."
He paused to let astonishment sweep over the faces. Even the Palace Priest showed a fleeting expression of interest.
"I completely dismantled one," Menasuca continued, "piece by piece. With the help of local artisans and navigators, we managed to replicate the construction. However, their technology relies on materials we cannot match: their adhesives, their lead metal nails, their sails, even the way they cure the wood. That is why our replication is limited to the Guaraguao and the Kaimán. But I can assure you, Tlatoani, these ships are sturdy, swift, and superior to anything the alliance has created until now."
The audacity of his move—investing all his assets, the dismantling—seemed to convince everyone. It was not magic; it was ingenuity driven by commercial ambition.
"If I am given the authority," Menasuca concluded, feeling Chuta's plan materialize, "we can build these ships in large quantities, although their initial cost will be high. And if we methodically investigate the Suaza knowledge, in the near future, we will indeed be able to create our own large ships to cross the seas."
Ahuízotl, who had blocked much of the Suaza knowledge for fear of Moctezuma's prophecies, saw an opportunity at that moment: to use Suaza technology to combat the Suaza influence itself.
"Your vision is admirable, Painalli," Ahuízotl said, a gleam of approval in his eyes. "I entrust you with the entire naval industry of the Triple Alliance. You will have absolute priority over resources, the power to recruit artisans and carpenters, and I name you a noble of the Royal Council of Tenochtitlan. Your success will be the success of Huitzilopochtli and all of Anáhuac."
Menasuca felt a shiver of excitement run through his body. Not for the title, but for the Shadow's victory. From this post, he held the pulse of Mexica military and commercial power. He could execute Chuta's strategy, and now Nezahualpilli's as well, with an effectiveness never before imagined.
He knelt again, this time with a genuine devotion to the success of his mission. "I am grateful for your trust, Great Tlatoani. I promise you that, in a few years, large ships of the Triple Alliance will sail the oceans and rival any kingdom."
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
First, I want to apologize for the last few chapters I've uploaded. I realized that due to time constraints (when I was working), I got used to making everything more concise, and it seemed like I was just informing you about the novel, rather than making the experience more immersive.
In short, the narrative was weak and the dialogue unnatural. That's why this chapter shows how things should be from now on, practically returning to how they were before.
Although the only thing I can say about it is that the +18 and +21 scenes were good.
On the other hand, I recreated Painalli's (Menasuca) meeting with Nezahualpilli, but from Painalli's perspective, because, as I said before, the dialogue seemed more informative and even lost its cultural context.
By the way, for those who follow maps, I made a mistake on the last map, and instead of marking Cape Verde, I marked the Canary Islands.
UFD: The Tlatocan, or Supreme Council, was composed of the highest authorities, often members of the Aztec bureaucracy and high-ranking military officials (Tlacochcálcatl and Tlacatécatl). They advised the emperor on important decisions.
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Read my other novels.
#The Walking Dead: Vision of the Future (Chapter 86)
#The Walking Dead: Emily's Metamorphosis (Chapter 32) (INTERMITTENT)
#The Walking Dead: Patient 0 - Lyra File (Chapter 12) (INTERMITTENT)
You can find them on my profile.]