Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America!
Chapter 686 - 359: The End of 1485, The Death of Diogo

Chapter 686: Chapter 359: The End of 1485, The Death of Diogo

The azure sky was cloudless, and the bright sun shone brilliantly, casting glimmering waves over the South Atlantic. The ocean was vast and boundless, the horizon open and endless, with no sign of human life for thousands of miles.

Three caravels from the Kingdom of Portugal were sailing on the deserted sea, pushing the boundaries of the known world. In the intense sunlight and sparkling waves, they pursued the path of the wind, searching for elusive hope. The south of the African continent was so vast and desolate, it seemed to have no end.

The exploratory fleet set out from the mouth of the Congo River, heading south, crossing the Equator into the highlands of Lower Guinea. By now, they had sailed more than four thousand miles and arrived at the deserts of Namibia.

Groups of Namibian seals frolicked freely along the coast, chasing the delicious schools of fish. The Benguela Current rose here, creating a rare and bountiful fishing ground in the middle of the "blue desert."

The abundance of food attracted massive beasts, and huge blue whales drifted not far away. They swam freely through the vast ocean, sometimes leaping to splash the water, sometimes spouting mist, then emitting heart-stirring calls!

In this era, blue whales, the largest creatures on Earth, had no natural predators. Their songs carried far and wide, leisurely telling of the million-year-old loneliness of this sea.

"Almighty Lord! I pray earnestly to Him to protect us from the devouring sea monsters!"

Bruno stood at the bow, reverently addressing his prayers to the Lord. Beside him stood a dozen sailors, also praying. They looked in the direction of the whale songs, faintly making out massive figures resembling the deep-sea giants of myths.

The Age of Discovery was just dawning, and the oceanic myths from Ancient Rome still held sway in people’s minds. In the traditional European perspective, the movement of waves could lead to the merging of animals, forming terrifying hybrid leviathans. Thus, the deeper and more remote the ocean, the more likely it hid terrible sea monsters, sleeping embodiments of destruction.

The monstrous calls ceased temporarily after the prayers. The sailors praised the Lord aloud, finding a measure of relief. Bruno rolled up his sleeves, nimbly climbed the mast, and stood atop the watchtower, tens of meters high, searching for the edge of the Southern Continent. From his vantage point, the red sand dunes of the Southern Continent undulated ceaselessly, stretching beyond the horizon to the point of despair.

"Tenho saudades! Kind Holy Mother, please give me divine revelation... Does the end of the Southern Continent truly exist? And can I return home, to see my wife once again?"

Bruno, holding onto the rigging, stood on the high watchtower. It was a place closer to the Almighty, so he prayed again with devotion. The flag of the Portuguese Royal Family fluttered above his head, having endured countless storms and waves, yet remained intact.

White seagulls flew over from the sky, drawn by the sight of the unfamiliar sails. They circled curiously, emitting loud "Ooh, ooh" calls, and occasionally pecked at the bones hanging from the mast. Indeed, after more than a month of tropical voyaging, these bones were all that remained of Sailor Chief Diego.

After finishing his prayer, Bruno glanced at the bones and agilely climbed down the mast. With a heavy heart, he approached the captain’s quarters and gently knocked on the door.

"Praise the Lord! Honored captain, Noble Knight Bruno sends his greetings to you!"

It was a long while before a weak voice replied.

"Cough, cough... Praise the Lord... come in."

Bruno quietly opened the cabin door and entered the captain’s quarters, immediately met with an indelible stench of blood.

Diogo lay with his eyes open, his face haggard and utterly pale. He was on a wooden bed, arms stretched out thin, trying to rise but unable to muster any strength, and could only look up with difficulty.

Bruno quickly shut the door and hurried to the captain’s side. He carefully propped up the captain, feeling his increasingly emaciated body beneath the wide captain’s coat, so light it almost seemed to float.

"Like a piece of papyrus from Ancient Egypt, covered in symbols of death."

Bruno lowered his gaze, mourning in his heart.

By the banks of the Congo River, the relentless Anopheles mosquitoes brought the dread of malaria and dengue fever. Although they were far from the Demon’s land now, the cruel tropical diseases had penetrated deep into the captain’s marrow, tormenting the weakened "Noble Lion" day and night. Chills and fever afflicted him in turns, coughing up blood and vomiting simultaneously; muscles and bones severely ached, while bleeding from the gums and skin was incessant...

Barely more than two months into the sickness, Diogo had exhausted all his vitality. No matter how robust his physique, no matter how devout his faith, no matter how steel-like his will, none could withstand the laws of nature. At this moment, he was but a dying pilgrim, seeking the holy end, yet heeding the Almighty’s call too soon.

"How... is... it?"

Diogo struggled to open his mouth, and asked three words.

Bruno silently shook his head.

"Respected captain, the Noble Scholar Martin calculated the latitude today. We are already 21-22 degrees south of the Equator. We have sailed at least four thousand miles south from the Congo River. And when I climbed up to the crow’s nest, the desert of the Southern Continent was still boundless, the edges nowhere to be seen..."

Diogo remained silent and slowly closed his eyes. After a while, he suddenly coughed violently, and blood uncontrollably flowed from his mouth and teeth.

Seeing this scene, Bruno stood up in alarm, unsure of what to do. He clumsily took out a piece of cotton cloth to wipe the captain’s mouth, but ended up smearing the blood everywhere. The stench of blood in the captain’s cabin grew even stronger.

It was quite some time before Diogo’s coughing subsided. He breathed heavily with difficulty, and his lungs produced a sound like flowing water. Then, Bruno realized with fear that, at some point, two streaks of pale red blood had begun to flow silently from the captain’s nostrils, dripping quietly onto the deck.

"Captain!..."

Diogo closed his eyes and lay down on the bed with difficulty. The blood from his nose flowed back slowly and then seeped from the corners of his mouth, impossible to stop.

There was an aroma of death enveloping the captain’s quarters. After a while, a feeble voice called out.

"Bru... no..."

"Captain, I’m here!"

"What... day... is it... today?"

Bruno paused, calculating carefully in his mind. After a moment, he replied uncertainly.

"Is it December 27 today? Ah! Christmas has just passed, and tomorrow is Holy Innocents’ Day."

"Hmm... Holy... Innocents’... Day."

Diogo responded softly with his eyes closed. The captain’s quarters fell silent once again.

In this era, Christmas inherited the tradition of Ancient Rome’s Saturnalia, and was more of a celebratory festival. Though religiously significant, it was far less important than Easter, which celebrated Christ’s victory over death. December 28 was the day when, according to legend, King Herod massacred the infants of Bethlehem. The infants martyred themselves for Christ, and so it was a day of ill omen.

Time passed in quietness, and Diogo seemed to have fallen asleep. Bruno was about to stand and leave when he heard a faint whisper.

"Olive... oil."

"What?"

"Ol... olive... oil."

"Captain! You..."

Bruno stood rooted to the spot. He understood the meaning of these words, but found it hard to accept in the moment.

"Go... prepare... notify... call them..."

Bruno’s nose felt a bit sour. He silently lowered his head and walked out of the captain’s cabin. Outside the captain’s cabin, the sun was slowly setting, staining the sky with a glow of twilight. The red sun sank, disappearing into the depths of the sea; the waves rose up, resembling the Twilight of the Gods.

As the sunset disappeared completely and night fell from the edge of the sky, endless darkness rolled in, swallowing all the light. A precious candle was quietly lit in the captain’s cabin, illuminating the stained wooden bed.

With tears in his eyes, Bruno knelt by the bed, holding a bottle of olive oil in his hands and a precious handwritten Bible by his side. Beside him stood two solemn noble captains, Pero Anes and Pero Dacosta.

Diogo lay calmly on the bed, his face showing an abnormal flush. He smiled gently, and even his speech suddenly became fluent.

"Lord protect! Noble Knight Pero Dacosta, after I am gone, the fleet will be in your hands!"

"Lord protect! Respected Royal Knight, Captain Diogo Cao, please do not speak so. The Holy Lord will bestow a miracle and heal His devoted saint..."

The middle-aged noble, Pero Dacosta, clasped his hands together, about to pray for Diogo.

"Lord witness! Old Pero, after taking over the fleet, will you continue southward?"

Diogo struggled to turn his head, gazing at the middle-aged noble.

"Er... Diogo, the fleet has fewer than a hundred sailors left, food is also scarce, and there are many damages on the caravel..."

Pero Dacosta appeared uneasy. He bowed his head slightly, unwilling to look directly at the dying captain.

"Indeed."

Diogo slowly nodded. He didn’t ask any further, instead, he continued to give instructions.

"Lord witness! Noble Knight Pero Anes, please make a copy of our sea charts and, on the way home, hand them to my old friend, Sir Dias."

"Lord witness! As you wish."

The other younger noble bowed his head in acknowledgment.

"Young Pero, here is my will and the seal of my knighthood. Please deliver it to my eldest son."

Diogo stretched out his hand with difficulty and took out an already prepared cloth bag, handing it to Pero Anes.

"I swear on the honor of my family! As you wish."

The young noble accepted the cloth bag and swore solemnly. Diogo nodded, then turned his gaze to Bruno, kneeling on the ground.

"Noble Knight Bruno, the flagship is now yours."

"Captain..."

"Lord witness! Take good care of court advisor Martin and escort him safely back to the Kingdom. This is my final command."

"Lord witness! I will obey your orders!"

Bruno knelt on the deck, silent tears falling from his eyes, his heart filled with a mix of emotions.

Diogo thought for a while and then instructed on some matters of navigation. Afterward, he closed his eyes and stopped speaking. Countless images flashed before his eyes, tenderly pulling him into a peaceful slumber.

Everyone gathered around, waiting patiently.

The candle slowly burned down, and time silently passed by. The waves of the ocean rocked the creaking caravel, like the cradle of a baby. In that cradle, Diogo opened his eyes for the first time, revealing a carefree smile, reminiscent of the innocence of childhood.

"I hear the Lord’s call. His light is so clear, shining before my eyes. Listen, that voice, is so clear..."

Seeing this, old Pero quickly reached out his finger, dipped it in olive oil, and drew a cross on Diogo’s forehead, then chanted the Latin words for the last rites.

"Per istam sanctam unctionem, indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid deliquisti, Amen."

After he finished, his face filled with sorrow, he was about to burst into tears but suddenly stopped himself. Because Diogo’s eyes were still open.

Diogo blinked silently, revealing a childlike, mischievous smile.

"Bruno, has midnight passed?"

"Ah, it has!... Captain, today is the Feast of the Holy Innocents."

Bruno hurriedly responded, but did not hear a reply from the captain for a long time. When he looked up, Diogo had closed his eyes and tilted his head, sleeping like a child.

"Ah! Diogo, my old friend..."

The sound of weeping finally burst forth from the captain’s cabin. Then, more cries joined in, over the vast sea, in the lonely sea breeze.