Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America!-Chapter 1525 - 1067: The Voyage of 1492 and the Fall of Granada

February 1492, more than twenty miles west of the city of Granada, on the banks of the Genil River.

The mountains of Granada, towering and continuous on the north and south sides, block the cold winds from the north heading southward. The long Genil River, like a blue jade belt, flows through the gray-yellow arid land. The canals, maintained by the Moors for hundreds of years, are laid out one after another along the east-west flowing river, like roots extending from the blue main trunk. And at the extension of these blue roots is a captivating green. These ancient orchards and farmlands still bear the mark of fertility, as if they had existed continuously from the time of Carthage two thousand years ago to today.

However, years of brutal war have long turned this once most prosperous valley of the Moorish Kingdom along the river into ashes. The orchard trees have been entirely cut down and turned into firewood for the army. The fields are also full of wild grass, with no trace of the Moorish farmers who once tilled them.

Most of the once prosperous Moorish villages on both sides of the river now lie in ruin and silence, desolate and abandoned. And the Moorish people with faces from the East are either buried forever in the soil or have become slaves to the Holy War Army. At this very moment, the wilderness is roamed only by red-eyed hyenas, carrion-fed crows, and marauding bands of Crusaders... oh, and two men riding mules, heading west along the river towards the Long Bridge.

"Diamine! Cazzo! The stupid and bloodthirsty Castilians, the greedy and foolish Argon people! They not only ruin goats but also these orchards and manors, turning valuable land into worthless grasslands!... Damn it! Their hard wooden heads only understand kill, kill, kill, work, work, work, they don't understand even a little bit of navigation, not even a bit of dog shit!"

The older man sat on the mule, cursing angrily while looking back reluctantly. He had reddish-brown hair, a face full of tangled beard, a long donkey face full of ferocity, and high, protruding cheekbones on his forehead.

At this moment, he widened his blue eyes, gazing at the mountains on the eastern horizon, also staring at the vast and majestic city of Granada. Those longing eyes seemed able to pierce through the solid city walls from more than twenty miles away and see the Castilian and Aragon flags waving above Alhambra Palace.

"Merda! Talavera with his sheep intestines! Spoke of approving my navigation plan, of the Queen agreeing to my proposal for a voyage... he lured me from Portugal with sweet words to submit my exploration document heading west... now he's a brain-damaged lunatic spewing bullshit, claiming my navigation plan unworkable, calling my terms of return too ridiculous!..."

"I spit! Vaffanculo! These Castilian navigation committees know nothing! As stupid as those dogshit Portuguese scholars... no! They're more stupid! They understand nothing, not even knowing about the Southern Continent, let alone the sea-bound Khitan and Cipangu (Japan)!... All they care about is clinging to sheep's asses, eyes shining, saliva flowing!..."

"Uh... Brother..."

Watching his enraged older brother, the young man on the other mule scratched his head, unsure what to say. However, he could understand his brother's feelings. His brother Chris had been running around the royal palaces of various countries for twenty years with his navigation plan to explore westward, from his early twenties to now at forty-two, achieving nothing and knee-deep in debt...

This time, with great difficulty, through the mediation of the repentant Priest Talavera, they met the valiant Queen Isabella, witnessed with her the surrender of the Moorish King and the offering of the city, and even entered the magnificent Alhambra Palace as victors!... Almighty! It was almost their closest success in all their royal audiences! But in the end, the Queen's navigation committee once again rejected their proposal to explore westward...

"Almighty protect us! Chris, this time we're... uh, at least it wasn't a wasted trip!... You see, the grand scene of the heathen king's surrender is so exciting, praising the Almighty! We even entered Alhambra Palace, that infamous Red Palace of the heathens! Tsk tsk, that beautiful Sweetgum, the luxurious Star Wall, and those many tall columns! ... It might not be much different from the legendary Moon Palace of Constantinople!..."

"The surrender of the Moorish King... January 2, 1492, after the Almighty's arrival..."

Hearing his brother's words, the strong Chris tugged on the mule's reins and stopped at the bridge by the river. He gazed blankly towards the East, remembering the surrender scene from a month ago as if it were just yesterday. The prolonged siege and battle stories heard from the knights in the camp were etched deeply in his mind, like another kind of longing buried in his heart.

It was his most fundamental desire from childhood to now, the ultimate goal of adventurous exploration and navigation, to become a knight and nnnobility lord ruling over the commoners!...

The flags of the Dual Kings stood tall, encircling the last Moorish capital on the peninsula with a camp stretching for more than ten miles. As many as sixty thousand Crusaders, thousands of Christ knights, firmly surrounded the great city of Granada. The Holy War Army controlled all the surrounding highlands and mountains, even building wooden and stone forts overlooking the highland city. In a siege lasting nearly a year, this ancient and majestic Moorish capital had reached its final moment of exhaustion...

When the Holy War Army first laid siege, the Moors' cavalry were full of spirit, constantly engaging in traditional ancient duels with the Crusader knights. They even sent out small cavalry squads to raid the Queen's camp and hurled a fierce Javelin, pinning a provocative letter against the Queen on the outer tents!

In response to this provocation, the Castilian Knight Hernando de Talavera launched a midnight raid on a tower, dashed into the city, and nailed a "Virgin Mary" wooden plaque at the entrance of a Moorish domed mosque, then swiftly made his escape... Such medieval knightly valor still deeply lingered in both armies, like some last brilliance and glow!

But soon, the "unworthy of knightly glory" King Fernando halted these life-consuming heroic battles, turning the siege into a tedious and long confrontation. He devised a meticulous encirclement plan, blocking all mountain roads, cutting off the water supply to the great city of Granada, and even hurling rotting corpses into the city, everywhere displaying his disgraceful and unscrupulous side... He was utterly unworthy of our brave and glorious Queen!...

"Yes! That cunning King Fernando is utterly unworthy of the sacred, revered, devout, wise, goddess-like beautiful Queen Isabella!... Ah! Praise the Almighty! Praise the merciful Queen! The Queen even took me, took me! Together to receive the surrender of the heathen king..."

Chris licked his lips and uttered a low prayer. Undoubtedly, for Queen Isabella, so like the Virgin Mary, he was filled with longing and respect, rare enough that he wouldn't utter a single curse. He clearly remembered every scene of following the Queen, walking from the camp at the foot of the mountain to Granada city up the mountain, then entering the never-before-seen, oh-so-beautiful Alhambra Palace...

After a lengthy year-long brutal siege, the tens of thousands of Moors in Granada, suffering from cruel food and water shortages and repeated ravaging plagues, had dwindled to ten to twenty thousand. And the Moorish heretic king, at last, could no longer hold on, despairingly sending an envoy to announce his surrender to Queen Isabella.

The day of the surrender was a bright morning. The Queen, with her entourage and her "ugly" husband Fernando, traveled through the narrow mountain paths under the escort of a large group of Christian knights. Behind them were many kingdom's nobility, royal officials, as well as some scholar entourages and the "Great Navigator"...

When we approached the city gates, the "uglier" heathen king Abu Abdullah, with 50 Moorish cavalrymen, rode out from the city gates on war horses. Upon seeing the valiant Queen, he dismounted, bowed his head, like an "ugly green toad," and even intended to kiss the Queen's hand!...

The Queen decisively refused him, waving her hand. The "green toad" king sighed, lowered his head, and spoke a heathen gibberish.

"By the witness of the most benevolent Lord! We entrust this city and kingdom to you... merciful Christian Queen, now both belong to you. Please use them generously and appropriately..."

Afterward, the heathen king took out the keys to the Alhambra Palace and handed them to the Queen. The Queen waved her hand again, letting King Fernando receive them. King Fernando took the keys and handed them to the Earl of Turnadilla, the Governor of Alhambra Palace...

"Pah! Shameless Aragon people, forcibly joining in to share the credit! Expelling the Moorish heretics, conquering the last Moorish capital city, clearly a glory that belonged only to the Queen!..."

Chris pressed his lips and grumbled a few more profanities. Then, he hung his head, recalling the grandeur of Alhambra Red Palace, reminiscing about the smoke-filled Sweetgum courtyard, the envoy hall Star Wall with its seven-layer fresco, the Lion Courtyard with its one hundred and twenty-four stone pillars, the stalactite ceiling of the Two Sister Halls, and that final mountaintop sculpted King's Hall... Ah! That was truly a dwelling of the Almighty, the true King's Palace, utterly unrivaled by Portugal's Sintra Palace and Castile's Caliana Palace!...

"By the witness of the Almighty! Merda! That is truly the place where a real man should live! Cazzo! I Christopher Columbus, will surely become the Great Navigator who discovers the affluent Khitan, becoming a lofty Great Nobility!..."

"Da-da-da!..."

Da-da hoofbeats awakened the dreaming murmurs of Christopher Columbus. He jolted awake from the mule, drew the sharp dagger from his waist. However, a bloodstained cross flag fluttered in the wind, declaring the death and carnage sweeping Granada's land. From the wooden bridge's west side rapidly came a squad wielding Longswords and mounted crossbows, donning lightweight breastplates, the fiercely imposing Crusaders!