Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America!

Sunrise to sunset, a restless day passes, and now it’s late at night. The shadows of withered trees shatter the moonlight, scattering it between the ruins of the broken village. The scorched beams left from burnt cottages, like charred ribs, slant upon the earthen foundation. The air is still filled with the scent of charcoal, and a stale, moldy smell of blood. This icy chill feels like the God of Death quietly sitting in the death-ridden Taino Village, waiting for tales of revenge and reaping to unfold.

"Guten Abend, mein Herr! Good evening, sir!"

Mercenary Captain Reinhardt, cloaked in gloomy attire, stands with two trusted brothers in the shadow of the chapel’s wooden hut. From the darkness on the other side, nine figures gradually emerge. Of them, eight are Cipangu Warriors clad in armor, but only one is cloaked, with a "Evil" motif etched on his forehead, responding in the familiar native dialect.

"Good evening, Knight Reinhart!"

"You are, Mr. Martin Behaim?"

"Hmm."

Priest Adin nods, scrutinizing the robust mercenary captain before him under the dim moonlight. He detects a hint of kinship from the man’s face upon seeing a fellow countryman, but there’s more vigilance, and within that, greed. Such mercenary demeanor, he had witnessed too often, and knows well how to deal with them.

"Fritz has informed you of our employment conditions, right?"

"Yes, Mr. Martin. Fritz mentioned 45 pounds of gold, to hire us for a year..."

Reinhardt pauses here, his gaze wandering erratically, quickly fixating on the baskets carried by the two Cipangu Warriors. But unsure which contains the gold, he can’t resist looking back and forth, like a greedy big cat.

"Ha!"

Priest Adin chuckles lightly and instructs one of the warriors. Soon, a basket is set down, its cover removed, revealing the gleaming color inside. The expressions of the three mercenaries change in an instant, as if hooked by a fishing rod, they step forward in unison.

"Is this... the remaining 24 pounds? Let me verify its quality..."

"Clang!"

Four Bronze Axes drawn, four Iron Spears aim. Reinhardt’s foot hesitates, looking at Priest Adin’s face in the shadows, he hesitates and says.

"This? Mr. Martin?"

"Old rule, sign the contract first, then advance the payment."

Saying this, Priest Adin takes out two parchment scrolls, not approaching, but throwing it in front of Reinhardt. Reinhardt unfolds them, squints his eyes. Holding the scrolls high, he examines them carefully against the moonlight for a while, incredulously asking.

"Mr. Martin! The party hiring us, isn’t it supposed to be the Cuba Kingdom? Why is it written here as the Kingdom of Portugal?"

"The Almighty bears witness! It’s naturally the Kingdom of Portugal! Though I’m a court scholar in the palace of the Cuba Kingdom, I represent the forces of the Kingdom of Portugal. Actually, not far from this San Juan Island, the vanguard of the Portuguese navy fleet is already lying in wait! Were it not for wanting to seize the Castilians’ large ships, we’d have acted long ago, no need to hire you!"

Priest Adin responds with a smile, his voice calm, making it sound truer than true. After enduring the conversion of demons, it seems he too etched the demon’s imprint in his heart. The Almighty’s commandments and judgment can no longer restrain him. As long as he could achieve what needs to be done, he wouldn’t hesitate to use any means! The only one he fears could be the mysterious Angel Envoy, who left the prophetic scrolls and is revered by countless Cuban Warriors.

"Knight Reinhart, this employment document from the Kingdom of Portugal is effective even if returned to Europe! We need you to capture at least one Clark Galleon of the Castilians. The cargo on board can be divided among you mercenaries, but the ship and cannon must be handed over. As for additional galleons, for each extra one captured, we’ll pay another 25 pounds of gold as reward!"

Saying this, Priest Adin extends his hand, pointing at another basket carried by the warrior. That basket seems quite heavy, containing over twenty pounds of stone. Reinhardt’s greedy gaze lingers on this basket before he frowns in contemplation.

"Hiring us is not to attack the Castilian Expeditionary Army, but to seize their galleons?"

"Knight Reinhart, is there a contradiction between these two?"

"No! Mr. Martin, if we are to capture the Castilians’ large ships, we mercenaries cannot participate in the attack on their stronghold! The sailors on those large ships are like startled rabbits, fleeing at the slightest disturbance. The Castilians guard against us heavily; we can’t sneak on board or row a small boat to forcefully seize the ship. Only if their sailors voluntarily let us board can we potentially seize one... at most two galleons!"

Under the moonlight, Mercenary Captain Reinhardt’s eyes flash. He’s long set his sights on the Castilians’ large ships because before Mr. Martin appeared, that was their only lifeline, their sole way back to Europe! And he has been working hard to ally with those ships’ captains, acquainting himself with two of them... just, should upheaval occur, how much can this paltry friendship serve? He trusts none of it.

"I have it! Mr. Martin, I’ve thought of a plan! As long as our mercenary group can escape to the coast, we can use the promise of equally dividing the gold as bait to have the two friendly ship captains invite us aboard! However, to accomplish this deed, betraying my friend, Reinhardt, would be a sin the Holy Mother cannot endorse..."