"We must embark on a massive westward movement to seize everything!"
At this point, the baseline mission of destroying the Aztec Empire could be considered barely accomplished. While doing their utmost to whitewash the situation and find a fig leaf to cover their shame, they also had to organize personnel to continue their advance toward Yucatan Island, where a smallpox epidemic was imminent. The People of Castilia did not need to fight desperately against those natives. All they had to do was wait for the remaining 10,000,000 Aztecs to slowly succumb to the disease, and then they could take over their lands.
As "Conqueror" Cortes said: the People of Castilia all suffered from a heart condition. Only land, gold mines, silver mines, and endless forests of spices could cure their ailment. If one were to ask the required dosage of this "medicine," the answer could only be... infinite! Every maritime overlord in this world was the same, almost without exception.
Of course, it would also be best to deal with that elusive Bone Gnawing God. As for whether the subsequent phases of their plan would unfold as expected, especially after the hitches in the initial part, probably only the gods knew.
Just as his confidant was about to turn and leave, the Governor suddenly called him back. He added with utmost seriousness, "Right, don't forget to inform Madam Cortes at Cortes's estate. Tonight, I will... personally go and console her."
"Yes, Your Excellency, as you wish."
Moving through the rainforest was much slower than the flight speed of a seagull messenger. It was not until three days later, at the edge of Yucatan Island, that a cluster of mangroves rustled, startling a few red crabs the size of millstones. A thousand pirates and natives, with greasy hair and ragged clothes, burst out from a path nearly reclaimed by the jungle. Their faces were streaked with sweat and grime, exuding an exhaustion that came from deep within.
Upon seeing the vast sea before them again, and the pirate ships flying their own flags on its surface, they finally mustered their last reserves of strength to erupt into fervent cheers:
"Hoorah, we survived!"
"Thank God! The Bone Gnawing God didn't pursue our contingent. It's a miracle! Praise the Lord for His protection!"
"We should be thanking the Captain! It must have been his courage, when he stepped forward to confront that Curse Spirit, that awed the monster."
Byron, impeccably clean with not a single hair out of place, lightly tapped the treetops with his toes and floated down gently to the front of the group like a falling leaf. He, too, let out a sigh of relief.
I used the Golden Code and my identity as the heir to the Empire to drive it away twice. If I hadn't had this on me, it would have been dangerous this time.
Due to the sudden interference of the Curse Spirit, Hightins' expeditionary force had no choice but to take the spoils of Traskopan City and scatter from the shores of Lake Texcoco. With a behemoth like the Bone Gnawing God hunting them, none of the major powers that had ventured into the heart of the Aztec Empire dared to move in large, assembled forces anymore. Byron's contingent was already one of the most substantial among them.
The Pioneer Navigation Colonization Company initially had only 6 ships and a detachment of 180 elite Marines. After absorbing the 400 men under Hook's command and the natives from Chichen Itza City in the Taya Empire, their numbers surged to 1,000. Their military strength also instantly soared to 16 Privateer Ships. Even though the largest ship was just an ordinary three-masted sailing vessel, if put to sea, they could proudly claim to be a Privateer Fleet.
However, one final step remained incomplete. Byron turned to several of his trusted subordinates and ordered, "'Blood Red Whiskey' Alfred, you take charge of Hook's original flagship, the Iron Hook. Bruh, you go to the second ship; Gus, you to the third. We'll reorganize as we go. By the time we reach the Taman Archipelago, I want these ships to be completely free of any discordant voices."
Although most of Hook's men were new recruits who had only joined a month prior, Hook, like them, had left some of his most loyal crew members onboard before going ashore to ensure his line of retreat was secure. Now, these men had become an unstable element within the Privateer Fleet. If they were willing to submit, all was well. If not, then they'll each receive a one-way ticket to the seabed.
"Rest assured, Captain."
Several of the most combat-capable and loyal Transcendents patted their chests and led their men onto their respective Privateer Ships. Byron, meanwhile, returned to the long-missed The Golden Deer. He turned his head for a final glance at the dense jungles of Yucatan Island.
It's all up to you now, "Conqueror" Cortes, the nominal new emperor of the Aztecs...
The plague had not killed everyone in the Imperial City. However, with a death rate as high as 70%, it had shattered the entire political system and order of production there. At this critical juncture, Montezuma II's nephew, Quetzalcoatl, who had narrowly escaped the disaster, was hastily enthroned and crowned. He was the closest royal blood relation, as the previous Emperor and Empress Beatrice had not produced any offspring. Moreover, the most important reason for his ascension was his immunity, having survived smallpox.
Barring any accidents, the remaining tens of thousands of able-bodied Aztecs might have followed him to stage a truly epic and tragic story, one that would have put a definitive end to their war against the foreign invaders.
However, an accident quietly befell him on the very night he became emperor. Number Two, "Bizarre·Wild Hunt Servant," who was the former Conqueror Cortes, possessed his body and replaced the new emperor. Cortes had finally achieved his desire and ascended to the position of "Viceroy." With Byron's inheritance rights from the Golden Code in mysticism, and Quetzalcoatl's physical form in reality, the two combined made him the true Emperor Aztec!
Aside from the three core city-states that had suffered immense losses, it was hard to say how many of the remaining 368 city-states would be willing to support him. But the tragic fate of the Anti-Aztec Alliance had thoroughly exposed the vile nature of the People of Castilia to the indigenous people. Relying on "Conqueror" Cortes's own outstanding abilities, raising an armed force to oppose his old masters was definitely not an issue. A future confrontation between these "brothers-in-law" was bound to be spectacular.
In short, the fall of the Aztec Empire had acted like a lit fuse. A series of chain reactions had thrown the entire Bantaan Archipelago into turmoil.
Byron, however, was pleased by this development.
Chaos is good. The more chaotic the situation, the murkier the waters, the better my chances to fish in troubled waters and develop discreetly.
With a grand wave of his hand, he commanded, "Weigh anchor, set sail!"
The wind stirred by his hand did not dissipate. Instead, it acted as an extremely faint variable, coincidentally altering the surrounding atmospheric system. In a chain reaction, it seemed as if a powerful storm, heralding the new year, began to brew over the entire Bantaan Archipelago.