Where the River Flows: The Story of Misia: A Native American Superpower

Surprising that the English traders did not offer Chesapeake protection in exchange for subjugation, if it was such a major port and relatively easily controlled by a naval presence due to being a city-state essentially.
 
Surprising that the English traders did not offer Chesapeake protection in exchange for subjugation, if it was such a major port and relatively easily controlled by a naval presence due to being a city-state essentially.
Chesapeake was basically done the moment Tsenecommacah turned its guns and horses against it. The English really didn’t have as large a permanent presence in the city like they did along the Wepistuk (where some control was necessary to reach the northern Misian ports) and Takamcook (the main hub of English activity in North America).
 
I hope Spain royally screws itself over in its upcoming war with Misia. Perhaps even the English will come to the Misians’ aid (especially if Spanish soldiers kill Englishmen in Misia).
 
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Update: Edited in a wikibox for the Chesapeake War and before and after maps for the Atlantic War.
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WTRF Before Atlantic War.png
WTRF After Atlantic War.png
 
By the way, can I ask how you made the maps and the wikibox? Been wanting to make some of my own.
Maps I use apple paint. For the Wikibox I just googled a thing for making them.

Wow, looks like we're seeing the start of new Native powers arising.
While canonically there have been previous large states in the region, they eventually collapsed. With guns and horses, things are starting to change. The Misians will actually now have to deal with large unified states to its east, and now they have to manage relations with the English, the Haudenosaunee, and the Tsenecommacan–Wabanaki Alliance, not to mention the Spanish to the south.
 
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Teaser for chapter 6:

“Tell me. What is it you want to do?”

“There is a vast pagan empire in the New World– Misia, ruled by the Quilso. It is far larger than any of our previous conquests– supposedly far larger than Cuba, Hispaniola, Panama, and Calusa combined. Perhaps even larger than your entire realm in Europe.”

“And you seek to conquer them?”

“I seek to bring their land into your vast empire, your highness. Their pagan culture would be eradicated, and all of their vast resources would fill your coffers.”

“And might I ask you, Senor Cortez, what do you require to achieve your ambitions? How many resources do you expect me to spend on this project?”

“Very little,” Cortez stated. “We have already been sending soldiers and building up armies in the New World for decades. I myself led armies against the Misians with our allies in Calusa. You could, of course, pull funds out of the largest treasury in all of Europe and pay hefty salaries to a standing army, but why spend all of that? Did not countless peasants and noblemen centuries ago willingly take up arms all on their own for glory in the name of Christ? The Old World is full of countless antsy peasants and jealous nobles; the New World is full of countless treasures and vast lands for the taking. What if, instead of challenging your rule over Spain and the Holy Roman Empire, your ambitious rivals were overseas trying to carve out another land in your name? To serve the Lord and to serve themselves, many would gladly join together and pay their own way. All you need is to spread the word across your lands.”

(thoughts?)
 
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He severely underestimates the Native americans of this TL; they will be able to reverse-engineer the gunpowder arms they use against the Spanish.
 
Chapter 6: The Isapanoles
Chapter 6: The Isapanoles
“Tell me. What is it you want to do?”

“There is a vast pagan empire in the New World– Misia, ruled by the Quilso. It is far larger than any of our previous conquests– supposedly far larger than Cuba, Hispaniola, Panama, and Calusa combined. Perhaps even larger than your entire realm in Europe.”

“And you seek to conquer them?”

“I seek to bring their land into your vast empire, your highness. Their pagan culture would be eradicated, and all of their vast resources would fill your coffers.”

“And might I ask you, Senor Cortes, what do you require to achieve your ambitions? How many resources do you expect me to spend on this project?”

“Very little,” Cortes stated. “We have already been sending soldiers and building up armies in the New World for decades. I myself led armies against the Misians with our allies in Calusa. You could, of course, pull funds out of the largest treasury in all of Europe and pay hefty salaries to a standing army, but why spend all of that? Did not countless peasants and noblemen centuries ago willingly take up arms all on their own for glory in the name of Christ? The Old World is full of countless antsy peasants and jealous nobles; the New World is full of countless treasures and vast lands for the taking. What if, instead of challenging your rule over Spain and the Holy Roman Empire, your ambitious rivals were overseas trying to carve out their own land in your name? To serve the Lord and to serve themselves, many would get together and pay their own way. All you need is to spread the word across your lands.”​

***​
Hernan Cortes was born in 1485 in Medellin, a village in Castille. Historians recount that he was a rather pale, sickly child, and his father was an infantry captain of distinguished ancestry but rather modest means. Still, the young Cortes desired more. His parents had sent him to Salamanca to study Latin with his uncle at the age of 14, but much to their dismay he had returned two years later. However, during these two years, he had learned extensively about Spanish law, and it would be around the time of his return to Medellin that news would begin to spread of a vast landmass across the ocean full of gold, spices, and other riches.

In 1504, at the age of 18, the ambitious Hernan Cortes sailed across the Atlantic Ocean and landed in the city of Santo Domingo in Hispaniola, now the capital and largest city on the island. After registering as a citizen, he would soon find himself granted an encomienda. He would take part in efforts to pacify the island and would lead men in the conquest of Cuba, where he would become the secretary to Governor Velasquez and be granted an even greater encomienda. Through the sale of gold, spices, and sugar cane, he would grow increasingly wealthy and powerful.

Still, as wealthy and powerful as he was, he sought more. He would also fight his way across Jamaica, the Bahamas, and Puerto Rico. He would intervene most notably in the Timuqua War of 1518, leading troops against the Kilsu in mainland North America. The Timuqua War had involved larger armies than the Spanish had yet faced in the New World, and Cortes came to believe that the only way Spanish holdings in the Americas would be secure was if the pagan empire to the north fell. That autumn, he would set out back to Spain.

After arriving in Spain in early 1519, he met with Charles V, King of Spain and Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire. He spoke of the grandeur of the lands of Misia, and requested that the Emperor encourage nobles and peasants alike to go overseas in the name of Christ, land, and glory. The following couple of years, thousands upon thousands of people from Spain, Germany, and Italy would cross the Atlantic to Cuba. By 1522, an army of volunteers had amassed on the island. Initially, governor Velasquez did not approve of sending troops to try to conquer the massive landmass, but once men began to arrive in droves authorized by the king, he obliged and helped in the recruitment of more men. By the end of this recruitment process, there were tens of thousands of soldiers on the island of Cuba. Standing before his massive army in Habana, he declared that the fight was another Crusade to bring Christendom to a barbarian people in a speech that ended in shouts of “Deus Vult”.

Shortly after, Cortes would sail north, landing in Mabila, the second largest Misian port on the South Misian Sea. The city sat near the northern point of a triangular bay where it met the delta of the river of the same name, a river whose branches extended northward to the world’s largest canal that linked it to the Mississippi River system. Much like other cities on the Southern Seas, many buildings were made of limestone as well as marble. It was quite large, and much like many other local cities, it was not depopulated nearly to the same extent as it was over twenty years prior. The harbors were busier. Market stalls once again were filled with silk and yaupon and spices and more. Guiding Cortes and his crew around the city was Dona Marina, a knowledgeable Calusa princess who had been baptized into Christianity. Quickly, the presence of a large number of white men with big ships alerted the local authorities, and so the men were quickly able to receive an audience at the customs office with the local Sipikapia himself.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Hernan Cortes.”

“And where do you come from?”

Cortes had thought this out. He could pretend to be English. He could even pretend to be French. But he knew there was a risk of being found out, a risk he could not take. He knew that honesty would be the best approach.

“My men and I are from Spain.”

The Sipikapia had heard of the Isapanoles. The recently emerging Taino quarter of the city was often rife with the sounds of former refugees cursing the Spanish. He had received orders from Kahoquah to take serious precautions when dealing with any visitors from overseas, especially those from Isapanya.

“You are one of the Isapanoles?”

“Sí, señor.” He pulled out his passport with the seal of Charles V. “We have the papers necessary to prove it.”

“And I can assume, because you have come here, that you desire entry past the mouth of the river into our land? What is your purpose here?”

“We have come a long way, and we desire an audience with the emperor. It is our hope to establish an alliance as well as trade ties with your emperor. We request passage to the great city of Cajocua.”

The Sipikapia did not need to check his papers to remember the emperor’s orders. He knew exactly what he was to do according to the now decades old policy.

“If you desire passage up river, there are strict requirements. First, we must once again search through every single one of your belongings to remove all weapons, armor, and animals to be placed on separate boats under our control. Imperial guards must remain present on all of your ships. You will also be required to stay within our sights at all times.”

Cortes thought for a moment. He could not proceed with his plans if he and his men were all unarmed around the emperor. Still, spending time around the mainland natives in the Pikate peninsula, he knew exactly what to say.

“We cannot proceed unarmed. When the Spanish began exploring the southern seas thirty years ago, we encountered a cunning yet savage people known as the Taino. When we tried to make peace, they attacked us for worshipping our own Great Spirit. We had to fight back in order to live safely. Of course, you here in Misia know what the Taino are like.”

“My friend, do not compare us to the Tainos. You will be safe under the Emperor’s watch.”

“How do we know? We come from across the ocean. How can we trust your people?”

“If you cannot go unarmed, we can not let you go up the river.”

“What if the emperor came down to Mabila?”

“The emperor will not simply leave Kahoquah to talk to you.”

“You should ask him. Send a messenger. We’re willing to wait.”

The Sipikapia knew that there was no way the emperor would come. But perhaps there was a way to test at the true nature of these men.

“We will send a letter to Cahoqua. I’ll see what we can do.”​

***​

“Your majesty, someone is here to see you.”

Mamantwensah’s head perked up.

“Who is it?”

“A messenger sent by the Sipikapia of Mapila.”

“Send him into the throne room.”

A sweaty young man in a leather tunic marched into the room, stopped in the center, faced the emperor, and bowed before him.

“Well, what does it say?”

“I don’t know. I can’t read.”

“Bring it to me, then,” the emperor ordered.

The young man stood there confused.

“What are you waiting for?” he smiled. “I’m not gonna eat you. Approach the throne!”

The young man marched up to the still youthful 47-year-old emperor.

“Let’s see. ‘Your majesty, head of the Kilsu Dynasty, ruler of all of the Great Kingdom, protector of the Great River, master of the heavens and earth, keeper of the ways of the ancestors, and earthly son of the Great Spirit, I write to you to tell you that men who claim to be Isapanoles have arrived in Mabila requesting to meet with you. They are led by a man named Enan Kotehs, and they possess a large number of ships. I have agreed to allow passage to Kahoquah under the legal requirements, an offer which they refused. They claim that they fear disarming will leave them vulnerable to attack like they were to the Taino on the Southern Seas. They then suggested that I write to you to come down to Mabila. I do not believe that doing so would be safe for you. I suggest sending a proxy of sorts in your place to test the intentions of Kotehs.’ Signed, the Sipikapia of Mabila.”
Mamantwensah looked at the paper and then looked back at the man in front of him.

“Young man, what is your name?”

“Onequah.”

“Come over here again.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“See this?” he said, pointing to his purple satin silk robe. “I want you to touch it right here on the sleeve.”

The young man hesitated again.

“Are you deaf, my boy? I don’t have spikes. Touch the robe!”

The young man briefly poked the loose sleeve and immediately withdrew his finger.

“What do you think of the fabric?”

“It’s soft, your majesty,” he said, stuttering, “and very shiny.”

“Well then, how would you like one of your own?”

“I’m not quite sure I follow your majesty.”

“Listen, boy,” the Emperor said calmly, “it’s very simple. How would you like to be the Emperor?”

***

Cortes marched the two men in the silk robes down to the marketplace right by the dock, planning to take them onto the ship. The Sipikapia, an older man in a green silk robe, marched alongside the emperor in blue, and on all sides surrounding the men were Spanish and German soldiers holding guns up to them. He could hardly believe that it was so easy to seize the emperor as a hostage. Surrounding Cortes were several other soldiers, including Calusa men who could translate and shout his words to the entire city.

“People of Mabila– your emperor and your riverkeeper have been taken as our hostage! The days of the Kilsu are over! The time has come for you all to join us and build a new empire! Surrender your city to our forces, or your old emperor shall be killed!”

Cortes, with his words being translated by Dona Marina, turned to the emperor.

“Kill me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said kill me. Go ahead. I’m not the real emperor.”

“It’s true,” said the Sipikapia. “The ‘emperor’ here is just a poor messenger boy from Kahoquah. After you refused to comply with our laws and requested an audience with the emperor, the emperor sent Onequah as his proxy to see if you were really here for peaceful purposes.”

“Well then I’ll kill you both anyway.”

“Go ahead,” said the Sipikapia. “My loyalty as the River Keeper of Mabila is to Emperor Mamantwensah, head of the Kilsu Dynasty, ruler of all of the Great Kingdom, protector of the Great River, master of the heavens and earth, keeper of the ways of the ancestors, and earthly son of the Great Spirit. The local mayor and governor both know that a false emperor has been sent. It is only a matter of time before Kilsu soldiers arrive.”
Cortes raised his sword. A few seconds later, the golden limestone floor was painted red. The severed head of the Sipikapia sat lifeless without a hint of fear in his wise old brown eyes.

“Shoot the boy.”

Cortes turned around and could hear gunshots behind him and the thud of another body to the ground. At that point, he began to hear noise. There had been several confused local Misian officers standing by, but now a larger army of iron-clad soldiers began to arrive, including several with horses and firearms. Cortes heard the men shouting, and now both soldiers and civilians alike were charging him and his men. Already being right by the dock where his ship was anchored, he and his fellow Europeans and Calusa allies ran to the ship, with the sounds of gunshot and the smells of smoke behind them. The ship took off just as a flaming arrow barely missed the bow. The time had come to meet again with the rest of the nearby armada anchored just south of the city and ready the cannons for the backup plan. The time for war had come.​
 
No matter the world, Malinche is still as traitorous as ever. I know the Nahuatl had enslaved her, but what did the Misia do to deserve such betrayal?

Also, splendidly written, as usual.
This Dona Marina (obviously a different person) is a Calusa Christian.
 
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