PREVIOUSLY.
[Her lips parted in a gasp of surprise; her eyes wide, unable to immediately process that the man who was building a great territory was offering her his soul under the laws of her own ancestors.
A second of absolute silence dominated the space, broken almost immediately by the joyful shrieks of the children, who began to jump and clap, forming a frantic circle around them.
The stupor dissolved, replaced by an overwhelming warmth that rose from her chest to her cheeks.
With eyes shining from unshed tears of pure happiness, White Owl took a step forward, closing the distance between them, and let all the love she had harbored over that year overflow into her answer.]
Two years later.
Year 12 of the SuaChie Calendar, Second Month (April 1494).
Great River City (New Orleans, Louisiana), North Quyca.
After that proposal beneath the market sun, White Owl's world had transformed into a whirlwind of life and progress. From the balcony of the spacious stone and wood house she shared with Chesua, the young woman surveyed the skyline of Great River City.
The constant hum of voices, hammering, and carts was the heartbeat of a giant that never slept. The population had multiplied astonishingly, surpassing ten thousand souls; a vibrant melting pot of local tribes, distant merchants, and Suaza settlers.
And amidst that sea of new people, an entire generation of newborns flourished in abundance, crowned by the arrival of her own son, a robust one-year-old boy named Cheue Simquypab.
White Owl smiled as she caressed the amber pendant resting on her chest, remembering the profound emotion she had felt upon hearing her baby's name.
Chesua, in an act of deep respect for the matrilineal traditions of the Chitimacha, had adopted the local custom to name his heir. Simquy, in the Suaza language, meant "White Owl." By bearing her name, the child was a bridge of flesh and blood between two worlds.
Technically, she no longer held the title of leader of her tribe. That political weight now rested upon the city's governing structure, led by Chesua, whom everyone reverently called the Chancellor. However, her abdication had brought no conflict.
Her father, Night Bird, far from being offended, seemed to have been rejuvenated by lifting the crushing burden of daily survival from his shoulders. Now, the entire tribe prospered under the protective and administrative umbrella of the city, and Night Bird spent his days advised by an affable Suaza scholar in cotton robes, who helped him manage resources with enviable efficiency.
The life of the Chitimacha had changed from its very foundations, especially for the most vulnerable. White Owl often reflected on how Chesua had navigated local traditions.
With admirable diplomatic subtlety, the Chancellor had managed to halt the ancient and painful practice of cranial boarding, the skull deformation her people performed on newborns for aesthetic and status reasons.
Instead of violently forbidding it, Chesua had persuaded the elders and mothers by showing them the benefits of natural growth, backed by revolutionary Suaza medicine and strict hygiene standards.
Now, the elders lived through more winters without the pains of the past, and the babies, with their round heads and rosy cheeks, enjoyed an ironclad health that previous generations could never have dreamed of.
A sharp, demanding cry broke her train of thought.
White Owl spun on her heels, leaving the balcony, and walked swiftly toward the warm adjoining room. In a crib carved from cedar wood and lined with the softest furs, little Cheue kicked, demanding his nourishment.
"I am here, my little sun, my little owl," she murmured, lifting the child with instinctive ease.
She sat in a rocking chair, unfastened the top of her fine cotton tunic, and brought the baby to her breast. Cheue latched on immediately, his crying subsiding to give way to the rhythmic sounds of suckling.
As she fed him, White Owl stroked his mop of straight, dark hair, whispering ancient Chitimacha blessings mixed with Suaza lullabies, enveloping him in an aura of absolute maternal love.
When the child was finally satisfied, his eyes heavy with sleep, she laid him gently back into the crib. She placed a final kiss on his warm forehead and returned to the main office she shared with the Chancellor.
The room was steeped in the scent of fresh ink, polished wood, and dried tobacco leaves. White Owl sat at her desk, illuminated by the midday light, and pulled a thick stack of leather-bound documents closer. Her eyes quickly scanned the rows of symbols and numbers.
She was not a mere observer in her husband's government. Following their union, and marveling at the speed with which she learned, Chesua had brought the best Suaza masters to instruct her.
She remembered that night when, spreading a world map and several scrolls across the bed, he had asked her what she wished to study. He offered her the secrets of the stars, the history of fallen empires, the arts of drawing and painting, and scientific inquiries into nature.
But she, with the pragmatic gaze of a woman who had seen her people starve, chose mathematics. She wanted to understand the language of commerce, the true lifeblood that nourished the new city.
And how well it had served her.
Learning Suaza numbers and arithmetic had granted her a crystalline vision of the changes. The foreigners had not merely eradicated harmful customs; they had seeped like water into the parched earth of every aspect of their lives, adapting to them.
She turned a page of the trade ledger and her fingers traced the totals of the latest harvests.
The document detailed the goods arriving from what scholars now called the Great Suaza Gulf (Gulf of Mexico). The coastal tribes, now united under the trade network of the Suaza cities, were reaping monumental profits from the new agricultural techniques.
White Owl read the staggering numbers of the expected bales of cotton and the sacks of peanuts the allied tribes could produce with the newly cleared fields.
But what captivated her attention the most, and what still represented an unfathomable mystery to her, was the grain column.
The maize that now grew in the fields bore no resemblance to the small, pale cobs her ancestors used to cultivate. This new version was gigantic, of a golden yellow and bursting with sweetness, capable of withstanding frosts and plagues.
Where had the Suaza gotten that divine seed? How had they managed to force the earth to yield such perfect fruits?
Intrigued, she dipped the tip of her quill into the inkwell, ready to cross-reference the data of the latest seed deliveries from the south, when the heavy wooden door of the office creaked, interrupting her train of thought.
White Owl looked up from the inkwell and the trade figures, meeting the imposing yet relaxed figure of her husband.
Chesua walked in with a calm stride, unfastening the light cloak he usually wore for formal meetings. The midday sun streaming through the large windows outlined his weathered features and the warm smile he always reserved exclusively for her.
"I passed by the bedroom," he greeted, his voice soft so as not to disturb the quiet of the house. "I saw little Cheue fast asleep. He looks like a little forest spirit when he rests like that."
White Owl returned his smile, feeling the tension of the numbers leave her shoulders. She stood up, walking around the heavy oak desk, and approached to wrap her arms around her husband's torso.
"He was crying a little while ago, but it was just the usual hunger of a growing warrior," she commented, resting her cheek against Chesua's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "He fell asleep as soon as he finished. Tell me, how did it go this morning with the envoys from the continental regions of South Quyca?"
Chesua returned the embrace, tenderly stroking his wife's back before pulling away just enough to look into her eyes. His expression turned into that of a satisfied statesman.
"Everything went wonderfully," he replied, with a gleam of enthusiasm. "The merchants confirmed that the next batch of improved maize seeds is due to arrive soon. And not only that; we have closed the deal to send Pensacola City a new shipment of potatoes. It's a strain specially adapted to withstand the mountain cold, perfect for the Cherokee people... They are beginning to open strong trade routes along the great sister river in the east, the one that flows down toward their lands."
White Owl nodded in slow understanding, marveling at how the invisible networks of commerce linked mountains, rivers, and seas. The mystery of the giant maize was solved: it was the fruit of the vast web of knowledge from the deep south.
She sat back down in her leather chair, smoothing the folds of her tunic before glancing over one of the newly arrived scrolls resting on the corner of the table.
"Speaking of distant shipments," she said, looking up at him with curiosity, "has a letter from your father arrived with this morning's ships?"
Chesua denied it with a gentle shake of his head and leaned against the edge of the desk, crossing his arms.
"No, nothing yet. Ever since my father managed to firmly settle in Guanzauba City, across the Dawn Ocean, his communications have become strictly methodical. He practically only sends letters with instructions about the family enterprise and diplomatic reports every four months. Unless an emergency occurs or there is an absolutely immediate political change, he doesn't deviate from those periods... He's a man of ironcast routines, you know that."
White Owl sighed, leaning back against her chair. Her gaze wandered for a moment to the world map hanging on the adjacent wall, a masterpiece of Suaza cartography.
"It is simply unreal," she murmured, her tone wistful and filled with genuine awe. "To think that the Suaza kingdom, with its knowledge and its great ships, has managed to cross the immense waters and discover these new realms. A whole world we knew nothing about, now interacting with us."
Chesua's smile faded slightly, replaced by a shadow of seriousness that hardened his features.
"It is an achievement, yes, but at the same time we must be extremely cautious with them," he warned, lowering his voice. "From what my father and our merchants have learned, those eastern kingdoms possess a naval power almost comparable to ours... at least from a technical standpoint. But, unlike our people, who seek balance and trade, these foreigners seem to be... unreasonable. They are driven by logics of domination that we do not use when meeting other peoples."
White Owl grew thoughtful, drumming her fingers on the wooden surface.
Thanks to Chesua's position as Chancellor and his influence in the Suaza Chamber of Commerce, coupled with the appointment of her father-in-law, Chewa, as the commercial and diplomatic liaison in Guanzauba City, she had enjoyed privileged access to information about the "Europeans" from the very first contact.
The image the scholars had described to her formed in her mind: people with skin as pale as a fish's underbelly, who covered themselves with abundant layers of heavy fabrics and garments of sober, dark colors, as if they feared the sun.
The knowledge of their existence had opened her eyes to the terrifying immensity of the world. And they were not the only ones; Chesua had also told her of vast lands south of the Europeans, the Guanza Quyca, inhabited by people of dark skin and rich culture.
However, it was the Europeans who awakened in her a curiosity tinged with apprehension. Her analytical mind could not help but formulate a dark scenario: What would have happened if they, and not the Suaza, had been the first to land on their shores?
Would they have arrived with offerings of bronze, seeds, and words of respect? Would they have learned the Chitimacha language to ask for permission to settle?
Chesua's tone and Chewa's reports suggested otherwise. They surely would have acted by force, claiming the land with blood and fire, uncaring of the spirits or local traditions.
Those thoughts swirled in her head, heavy and bleak. Suddenly, the vision her mother had on her deathbed took on a much deeper, more chilling meaning.
Her mother had not said, "a man will come from the sea." She had specifically pointed to the south. She had indicated the south as the only point where she would find the salvation and destiny of her people.
That mystical precision confirmed to White Owl that the people from across the Dawn Ocean, the people from the east, brought with them a storm that boded no good.
Chesua noticed the shadow crossing his wife's eyes and reached out a hand, brushing his knuckles against White Owl's cheek to draw her out of her reverie.
"Do not worry about shadows that are still far away on the other side of the water," he told her, with a soothing voice that anchored her back to the present. "Besides, not everything that comes from there is cause for concern. In fact, Leader Chuta, from Dawn City, sent a report this morning. He informed us that the next convoy will bring some completely new crops, brought directly from across the ocean."
White Owl blinked, clearing the dark omens from her mind, and the natural curiosity of her intellect reignited.
"New crops?" she asked, leaning forward, resting her elbows on the table. "What exactly are they?"
"According to the report, they are two main plants," Chesua explained, gesturing with his hands for emphasis. "One of them is called 'rice,' although they warn that for now they have very little stock to plant on a large scale. The other is a fibrous plant called 'sugarcane.'"
Chesua made a dramatic pause, his eyes shining with the anticipation of one who saves the best secret for last.
"Leader Chuta assures in his letter that these two plants will greatly change local agriculture forever," he added, a half-smile forming on his lips. "That... not to mention the animals."
White Owl frowned, genuinely bewildered, and stared at him.
"Animals?"
Two years later.
Year 14 of the SuaChie Calendar, Second Month (April 1496).
Owl City (Gulfport, Mississippi), North Quyca.
Animals?
The word had hung in the air of that office, laden with an unfathomable mystery. Two years after that conversation, that mystery had not only been revealed but had become the new heartbeat of her daily life.
It was the second month of the 14th year of the SuaChie Calendar, and more than five dizzying years had already passed since the colossal sails of the Suaza first darkened the horizon.
The world of the Chitimacha had been shaped at an astonishing speed.
Guided by the inexhaustible organizational and technological machinery of the outsiders, the tribes had radically altered their way of inhabiting the land to adapt to the explosive demographic and commercial growth of the Great River (Mississippi River) basin.
Far from disappearing or being absorbed, the hundreds of tribes of various sizes had restructured themselves into a vast network. They began to concentrate in three great metropolises that orbited like moons around the flourishing Great River City.
One of them rose several dozen miles upriver, dominating the northern routes, while the other two guarded the edges of the immense Great River delta. The old, smaller camps were not abandoned; they transformed into prosperous agricultural towns that completed the dense territorial mesh of the commercial empire.
The city seated at the eastern edge of the delta occupied the exact stretch of coast where White Owl had felt, for the first time, that her mother's prophecy was coming true. Now, that place bore the name Owl City.
Her father Night Bird's tribe had relocated there in its entirety. With Chesua's investment and political backing, the humble coastal settlement had metamorphosed into one of the most important fishing and shipping ports in the entire Great Suaza Gulf.
White Owl took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the clean, briny air of the gulf, mixed with the earthy scent of fresh hay. She stood at a sprawling country estate on the outskirts of Owl City, a peaceful refuge Chesua had ordered built for his family.
There, far from the noisy account books and the tense debates of the main city, she had discovered a passion that ignited her soul with a new fire: animals.
She still remembered the first cargo of life that arrived from distant Dawn City. At first, small, noisy creatures disembarked.
Poultry—chickens that clucked incessantly and ducks with iridescent plumage—filled the courtyards with a chaos of feathers and pecking. Then they brought the pigs, pink, grunting, and perpetually hungry beasts that desperately rooted in the earth.
For a woman who had grown up knowing only the majestic deer in the distance of the forest, or the elusive wild turkeys, living with these domestic animals proved to be an experience as bizarre as it was fascinating.
But the true wonder, the miracle that stole her breath away, occurred when the wide-bellied ships unloaded the larger beasts.
First were the cows, creatures of immense docility and sad eyes; one of them had arrived pregnant, and White Owl had assisted with tears in her eyes at the birth of the first calf in the northern lands, a living symbol that the new world was taking root.
And finally, they arrived: the horses.
They were purely spiritual beings. Watching them gallop, White Owl felt an instinctive reverence. Their overwhelming momentum, the raw power that rippled beneath their gleaming coats, and above all, their undeniable beauty, made her feel closer to The Great Spirit than any ritual of smoke and tobacco.
She had spent the last few months learning to ride them, to care for them, to interpret the flick of their ears and the snorting of their nostrils. All this was possible thanks to the patience of a skilled apprentice of Leader Chuta's wife, Turey, who taught her that a horse is not mastered by force, but persuaded by the spirit.
Astride her steed, an imposing animal with a dark chestnut coat like oak bark, White Owl rode at a slow walk along the long wooden fence that marked the property's boundaries. The breeze ruffled the horse's mane; it let out a deep snort, tensing its neck muscles as it looked toward the vast, open plains beyond the enclosure.
Through her knees, which gently squeezed the animal's flanks, she could feel its wild desire. She could almost hear her companion's mute voice, yearning to break out, shatter the fence, and devour the distance in absolute freedom.
However, White Owl smiled, stroking the warm skin of the equine's neck.
She knew with deep certainty that if she were to open the gate and let him run freely until the sun went down, he would return before nightfall. He would return because here was his herd. Here was his family. It was a chosen bond, not a forced one.
Just as that feeling of belonging warmly blossomed in her chest, the rhythmic, deep sound of a drum broke the tranquility of the plain: Boom... boom... boom.
It was the call from the main house. White Owl pulled gently on the leather reins, turning the horse with expert agility, and spurred a light trot back to the estate.
Upon arriving at the wide, cobblestone front courtyard, the sweet, thick aroma of roasted cacao assaulted her senses. On the wooden porch, sitting on a small stool, was her son Cheua.
The boy, who had already turned three robust years old, held a steaming clay mug filled with hot chocolate milk in both hands. He had a funny brown mustache adorning his upper lip, and seeing his mother approach atop the enormous beast, his dark eyes shone with pure excitement, kicking his little legs without touching the ground.
Next to the boy stood a man wearing the official colors of the chancellery, a messenger who brought his right fist to his chest in a respectful Suaza salute as soon as he saw her arrive.
"May the afternoon light be with you. What is it?" White Owl asked, bringing her horse to a halt in front of the porch and stroking his mane to calm him after the trot.
The messenger took a step forward, keeping his eyes lowered in a sign of deference.
"My lady, Chancellor Chesua sends me with urgent news from the docks of Great River City," the man announced in a clear voice. "He asked me to inform you that the ships from the west have docked in the Kingdom's territories. A gigantic cargo has arrived with the first massive shipments of rice seeds, and..." the man frowned slightly, recalling the foreign word, "and something called Soy. The Chancellor emphasizes that both crops come directly from the lands beyond the Sunset Ocean."
The Sunset Ocean.
White Owl felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew the Suaza routes were vast, but receiving massive cargoes from the other side of the world, from seas her ancestors didn't even know existed, remained an overwhelming notion. Global trade was weaving its threads directly over the land of her grandparents.
She nodded slowly, processing the magnitude of the news.
"Understood. Tell my husband I will join him shortly. You may withdraw, may the winds be favorable to you."
The messenger bowed once more and walked at a brisk pace toward his own mount.
With a fluid, confident motion, White Owl slipped her feet from the stirrups and dismounted her steed, landing gracefully on the loose dirt of the courtyard. She handed the reins to one of the estate's young grooms who had approached, and then walked toward the porch.
She knelt in front of Cheua, pulling a clean linen cloth from her belt to carefully wipe away his chocolate mustache. The boy let out a contagious giggle, trying to grab the fabric.
White Owl smiled, feeling an infinite love overflowing in her chest, and stroked his straight, dark hair.
"Finish your drink, my little owl," she whispered to him, her eyes shining with an anticipation that transcended the present moment. "Come with me to the great city. We are going to see some new seeds... little treasures that come from a world we do not know, but which, just like you, will change our future forever."
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
Thank you for your support.
First, I hope you are all well.
Second, I hope you enjoyed these two chapters. This approach and the one on the English settlement will be the only ones we'll see from North America. The other thing we'll see, along with perspectives like Sicaza's, is perhaps a Spanish settlement in South America, but that's not planned yet.
Finally, I wanted to let you know that I might have to find a permanent job, so it's possible that in the future you might read some chapters with errors or discrepancies due to lack of time.]