The King brooded upon his throne of bone.
He could not explain the cause of his discontent. He had done the will of the Gods. He had conquered the world, slain the heathens, subjugated their gods, sacrificed their rulers upon the altar below the Statue of Tlaloc in Tenochitlan. He had been victorious! He had much joy in those days.
He remembered the first of the rulers he slaughtered on the Altar (this was in the days before the Statue had been completed). Pedro II his people called him, and he had once ruled a small kingdom to the north from his city of Rio de Janeiro. He had the gall to complain when Montezuma had founded the city of Teotihuacan near the holy mountain, Sri Prada. But instead of doing the smart thing, and fighting for his territory, he merely weakly protested, and Montezuma laughed at his impotence, as his Jaguars and archers traveled north to punish Pedro for his iniquity. The Gods demanded there be One King, One Rule, and Montezuma relished his duty.
Since then, Rio de Janeiro has become the most important center of trade in the Kingdom of the Aztecs.
He remembered the Sultans of the West, Harun al-Rashid and Ahmad al-Mansur. They fretted in their courts over the great threat from the East... but that's all they did: fret. They sternly warned The King that his actions would have consequences. And consequences they had. Though the Sultans proved more worthy adversaries by themselves, al-Mansur stood aside as Montezuma's warriors, now armed with iron swords and compound bows, put al-Rashid's cities to the torch and claimed Mecca as his own. He did not live to regret his indecision, and his own people were made to serve Montezuma, just as his gods now serve Montezuma's gods.
Mecca was founded on the shores of a great lake, and her people are now grateful for the unique aquacultural skills of their Aztec conquerors. No less grateful are the Aztec themselves, finally allowed to show the world their skills.
Pedro, Mansur, and Rashid had been weak men, unfit to hold a throne... and yet, they had been the closest thing to equals Montezuma had ever known. He now knew a lonely life, filled with nothing but empty decrees, paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork. Frankly, he was lonely. He desired more equals to kill.
His people were happy. They had plenty of food, comforts, luxuries. If they tired of the fare of the farm, there were vast, unsettled tracks of jungle, forest, plains, desert, even arctic tundra, for them to seek game. The Kingdom's cash flow was positive, even as his vast armies took further tribute from the city-states, and booty from the barbarians, while the city garrisons kept order.
And yet... he was restless. Further, he had the sense that the gods were restless, that his divine task was somehow... incomplete.
"Sire, if you would just sign here..." Montezuma flew into a rage, knocking the clipboard out of the officious little man's hand and across the room. "I need new worlds to conquer!"
"Sire... you have conquered the world. Everybody under the sun bows to you. There are no other worlds."
Montezuma countered, "Ever day, I look upon the vast sea. I wonder... is there anything beyond it? If a man could sail across that sea, what might he find?"
"Sire, there is nothing beyond the Sea. None who have attempted to sail far beyond the safety of our shores have returned. This IS The World, and you have conquered it, glory to You, and glory to The Gods!"
Montezuma shoved, and the man flew backwards eight feet into the wall behind him. "Then why are The Gods restless?! Why do they not Return, as they Promised?! Either The Promise is a lie... or my Task is yet incomplete! And I believe the reason is that there are yet more worlds to conquer, beyond The Sea! Assemble the scholars!
And so, the decree went out, the first one Montezuma truly relished since he had eliminated the last of the local kings. There was to be a new faith: there were yet worlds to be conquered, beyond The Sea, and the first to find a way to seek them out would be awarded acolatdes. Those who doubted would feed the increasingly restless Hunger of the gods!
He could not explain the cause of his discontent. He had done the will of the Gods. He had conquered the world, slain the heathens, subjugated their gods, sacrificed their rulers upon the altar below the Statue of Tlaloc in Tenochitlan. He had been victorious! He had much joy in those days.
He remembered the first of the rulers he slaughtered on the Altar (this was in the days before the Statue had been completed). Pedro II his people called him, and he had once ruled a small kingdom to the north from his city of Rio de Janeiro. He had the gall to complain when Montezuma had founded the city of Teotihuacan near the holy mountain, Sri Prada. But instead of doing the smart thing, and fighting for his territory, he merely weakly protested, and Montezuma laughed at his impotence, as his Jaguars and archers traveled north to punish Pedro for his iniquity. The Gods demanded there be One King, One Rule, and Montezuma relished his duty.
Since then, Rio de Janeiro has become the most important center of trade in the Kingdom of the Aztecs.
He remembered the Sultans of the West, Harun al-Rashid and Ahmad al-Mansur. They fretted in their courts over the great threat from the East... but that's all they did: fret. They sternly warned The King that his actions would have consequences. And consequences they had. Though the Sultans proved more worthy adversaries by themselves, al-Mansur stood aside as Montezuma's warriors, now armed with iron swords and compound bows, put al-Rashid's cities to the torch and claimed Mecca as his own. He did not live to regret his indecision, and his own people were made to serve Montezuma, just as his gods now serve Montezuma's gods.
Mecca was founded on the shores of a great lake, and her people are now grateful for the unique aquacultural skills of their Aztec conquerors. No less grateful are the Aztec themselves, finally allowed to show the world their skills.
Pedro, Mansur, and Rashid had been weak men, unfit to hold a throne... and yet, they had been the closest thing to equals Montezuma had ever known. He now knew a lonely life, filled with nothing but empty decrees, paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork. Frankly, he was lonely. He desired more equals to kill.
His people were happy. They had plenty of food, comforts, luxuries. If they tired of the fare of the farm, there were vast, unsettled tracks of jungle, forest, plains, desert, even arctic tundra, for them to seek game. The Kingdom's cash flow was positive, even as his vast armies took further tribute from the city-states, and booty from the barbarians, while the city garrisons kept order.
And yet... he was restless. Further, he had the sense that the gods were restless, that his divine task was somehow... incomplete.
"Sire, if you would just sign here..." Montezuma flew into a rage, knocking the clipboard out of the officious little man's hand and across the room. "I need new worlds to conquer!"
"Sire... you have conquered the world. Everybody under the sun bows to you. There are no other worlds."
Montezuma countered, "Ever day, I look upon the vast sea. I wonder... is there anything beyond it? If a man could sail across that sea, what might he find?"
"Sire, there is nothing beyond the Sea. None who have attempted to sail far beyond the safety of our shores have returned. This IS The World, and you have conquered it, glory to You, and glory to The Gods!"
Montezuma shoved, and the man flew backwards eight feet into the wall behind him. "Then why are The Gods restless?! Why do they not Return, as they Promised?! Either The Promise is a lie... or my Task is yet incomplete! And I believe the reason is that there are yet more worlds to conquer, beyond The Sea! Assemble the scholars!
And so, the decree went out, the first one Montezuma truly relished since he had eliminated the last of the local kings. There was to be a new faith: there were yet worlds to be conquered, beyond The Sea, and the first to find a way to seek them out would be awarded acolatdes. Those who doubted would feed the increasingly restless Hunger of the gods!
