Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America!

Chapter 2178 - 1573: Fist·España·Fire! For the Queen!

"Por Dios y por la Cruz! For the Almighty and for the Cross!"On the mightiest great carrack, the Santa Clara, a sonorous prayer suddenly rang out. All the Castilian veterans who had taken part in the Granada Holy War simultaneously turned their eyes over and began whistling in wild excitement.

"The Almighty grants us burning Fire! The Holy War of the Cross, ever-victorious in battle!"

Vice Admiral Antonio de Torres clenched one fist, drew his sword with the other, and struck a devout Holy War pose, as if (Fist·España·Fire). On shore, Noble Knight and company sergeant major Pedro Magallit saw this scene and burst out in high-spirited laughter. He raised his own fist high, swept his gaze over the four eighty-man veteran companies in the expeditionary army, and shouted the most classic battle slogan of the Castilian Holy War.

"Santiago! Saint James!"

"y cierra, España! Charge, Spain!"

More than three hundred Castilian Holy War veterans roared in unison, their ferocious, fearless momentum exactly like the countless times they had shouted on the charging fields of Granada! In that instant, their biting killing intent shot up to the heavens; that battle slogan which had heralded the death of countless Moors made the noisy Seville Port fall silent in a heartbeat.

This was the Holy War Veterans Corps, rolled out of blood and Fire on the Holy War Battlefield through a hundred brutal fights! They were slaughtering machines empowered by faith, their hands long since drenched in the blood of countless Moors. Whether it was Cavalry or infantry in the Moorish army, or the strong men and old and young in their villages, all were heathen that they would surely kill and never spare!

"Merda! What the hell are these bastards shouting?! I haven’t given any order at all—how are they making such a racket?..."

On the San Cristobal, Fleet Commander Columbus hurried onto the deck and was greeted by this parade-like spectacle. Seeing him appear, Vice Admiral Antonio de Torres, who was "reviewing the troops," curled his lips, cast him a faintly provocative glance, and then shouted again at the top of his lungs, even louder than before.

"Por Dios y por la Cruz! For the Almighty and for the Cross!"

"Santiago! Saint James!"

"y cierra, España! Charge, Spain!"

Sergeant major Pedro Magallit threw back his head and joined in, and the Holy War veterans of all four companies bellowed together. Then everyone burst into "Ja-Ja" laughter, like a herd of hot‑blooded red‑eyed bulls spoiling for a fight. The veterans pounded their Spears hard on the ground and slapped their round shields with their swords, producing a clamor of Weapons and Martial Prowess.

"Clac, Clac! Santiago!..."

"Clang! Clang! Saint James!..."

"Ja ja ja ja ja!"

"Hahahahaha!"

"?! Minchia! What are you doing? You herd of disobedient stupid oxen..."

Seeing Vice Admiral Antonio’s performance, Fleet Commander Columbus stood dumbstruck for a moment before he managed to squeeze half a curse out of his throat. Yet amid the shouts and laughter of these hundreds from the Holy War Corps, his voice was so faint as to be inaudible, and so weak as to be utterly powerless.

These Holy War veterans, directly under the Royal Family, were undeniably the absolute main combat force of the expedition fleet—but just as undeniably, for him, this rootless "outsider" from Italy, they were fundamentally impossible to command or order about! Bear in mind, every eighty-man company captain of these units was a Castilian Knight, a Castilian Military Merit Noble who had shed blood and shouldered arms for the Queen in the Granada Holy War, with profoundly deep seniority!

"Damn! Damn Antonio! That venomous wolf sniffing around my backside!"

Fleet Commander Columbus gnashed his teeth in silent hatred, yet could not flare up. Though he was the Admiral of this huge expeditionary army, all he had to rely on was a single Royal Decree from the Queen; he held no supreme command over the fleet’s armed forces, nor did he have the seniority or prestige to make these company Officers obey his orders.

In fact, among the more than one thousand men in this expeditionary army, those he could truly trust as confidants were no more than his Brother, Bartholomew Columbus, and the thirty or forty armed Sailors whom Bartholomew had managed to gather with great difficulty.

As for that band of Shenluo Mercenaries, though they were formidable fighters, they had only reluctantly bowed their heads to him under pressure of circumstance. Even though he had been doing his utmost to win them over, calling each other Brother with Mercenary Captain Reinhardt, deep down he simply did not trust this lawless pack of mercenaries.

"A so a Depp! Tsk, tsk! What a pitiful fool... What a way to be Fleet Commander... aha!..."

Behind Columbus, the towering Mercenary Captain Reinhardt let out a low, cold chuckle, full of schadenfreude. But halfway through his laughter, something suddenly occurred to him, and his expression grew clouded and uncertain.

This elite Holy War veteran force numbered over three hundred, clearly the absolute mainstay, the true "combat core" of the Castilian Expeditionary Army. And aside from these hard‑hitting and loyal Holy War veterans, the expeditionary army also had the Santiago Knight Order, armed to the teeth—those fifty Knights and chamberlains clad in plate armor and chain armor, at least half of whom were Church Knights who had brought their warhorses!

The Santiago Knight Order, though a Church Armed Forces unit traditionally shepherded spiritually by Archbishops, had, after the Granada Holy War, sworn allegiance to both the Church and the Queen, with Queen Isabella serving as Grand Master of the Order. These Church Knights, "whether devout or indebted," were bound to be the "trump card" that could decide matters in the expeditionary army, and were certainly its true insiders.

And if one then set aside those more than two hundred armed strong men slated to become colonial settlers, the last group that could fight yet were not loyal would be his own "mercenary battalion." In that case, what role was this nearly two‑hundred‑man "mercenary battalion" of his destined to play in the Castilian Expeditionary Army?

"Zefix! Wie Vieh, verdammt! Damn! They’re treating our mercenary battalion like livestock to be slaughtered?..."

Realizing this highly probable truth, Reinhardt could no longer laugh. He fell silent, looking at Admiral Columbus, whose face had flushed red, and felt a sort of "fellow sufferers in the same rotten stew" kinship. Once they set sail to those unknown Indian Islands who knew how many leagues away, they would no longer be able to flee even if they wanted to; there would be no coming back, and they could only hand their lives over to the Demon.

"Vaffanculo! That fool Antonio, rammed in the ass by a ram!..."

Faced with Vice Admiral Antonio’s humiliating show of defiance, raging flames churned in Columbus’s chest. Yet just as his throat worked, his anger could no longer be suppressed and was about to erupt... a powerful hand suddenly reached out from behind, clamping down heavily on his shoulder and forcibly pressing his fury back down.

"Brother! Brother! You must not lose your temper... you absolutely must not!"

Bartholomew Columbus wore a grave expression as he forcibly turned his elder Brother Christopher Columbus around. Then he glanced at the commotion on shore and on the ships, looked over those ferocious Castilian veterans, and only then, meeting Columbus’s furious, mule-like glare, spoke in a low voice.

"Brother, this is that bastard Antonio’s trick! He’s long coveted your position as Admiral of the Fleet, so he set this up to make you lose face in front of everyone..."

"Damn it! And what am I supposed to do? If I do nothing, the authority of this Fleet Commander will be utterly trampled underfoot!..."

"Brother, you absolutely must not clash with him head‑on! He’s fought in the Holy War, you haven’t... You should do this, like this..."

Bartholomew murmured a few words, then suddenly stepped forward. He looked at Vice Admiral Antonio, who was watching with a half‑smile, and abruptly raised both hands high, shouting in fluent Spanish a slogan from the Holy War.

"Por Dios, por la Cruz, y por la Reina! For the Almighty and the Cross, and for our Queen!"

Hearing this new slogan suddenly resound from the flagship, hearing the praise of Queen Isabella, the Castilian Holy War Veterans froze for a moment and finally turned their gaze toward the nominal "Fleet Commander." Bartholomew gestured urgently, signaling the trusted Sailors around him to shout along with him, to "praise the Queen" together!

"Praise the Holy Queen! Su voluntad es nuestro deber sagrado! The Queen’s will is our sacred duty beyond refusal!..."

"Praise the Queen! The Queen above all!..."

"Viva la Reina! Long live the Queen!"

Urged on by these cries, the Holy War Veterans hesitated only a moment before their faces broke into genuine smiles and they began shouting from the heart. And the Sailors of the Castile Navy on the eighteen ships likewise joined in, cheering in agreement. Since the Holy War of Granada, Queen Isabella had already become the most perfect "spiritual symbol" in their hearts, the "Holy Mother Mary" whom almost all Castilian Knights, Soldiers, and Sailors sincerely revered and supported!

"Holy Mother, protect us! Gloria a la Reina! Glory be to the Queen!"

Just as Soldiers and Sailors above and below deck shouted and cheered together, Fleet Commander Columbus finally reappeared from his brief absence, now dressed in the full uniform of a Castilian Admiral. He strode to the very front of the deck at the bow, glared fiercely at Vice Admiral Antonio, and likewise raised both hands high!

In his left hand was the parchment Royal Decree by which the Queen had appointed him Commander; in his right, the Commander’s sword the Queen had newly bestowed on him. From deep in his chest, in Spanish thick with an Italy accent, he bellowed out the most stubborn of roars!

"Glory be to the Queen! I am the Commander appointed by the Queen—this is the document of my appointment, and this is the Commander’s sword she herself bestowed on me! The Queen has entrusted the fleet, and all of you, to me; I am your leader!"

"I will lead you to discover a new route to India! I will see that every one of you gets rich following me!..."

"The Queen can never be wrong! Her will is your sacred duty beyond refusal!!..."

In that instant, Columbus’s defiant roar echoed along the shores of Seville Port. Hearing his proclamation, the Holy War Veterans of the expeditionary army let their earlier passionate cheering suddenly die down.

Some gave soft, derisive laughs; some watched coldly; others, not yet understanding, kept on cheering, cheering out of habit. But it was plain the shouting was about to gradually fade away. This so‑called "Commander Columbus’s" authority was about to be trampled underfoot yet again...

"Da-da-da!"

"Ta-ta-ta!"

At that very moment, the fluttering banner of the Castilian Royal Family, accompanied by urgent hoofbeats, suddenly appeared at the far end of the road along the port. Next, a twenty‑man Cavalry squad, raising high the Queen’s banner and wearing Armor painted with the Royal Family’s Emblem, appeared before everyone’s eyes.

They were the "Royal Knights" who personally guarded the Queen! Every time they appeared on the Holy War Battlefield, they represented the brave and fearless Queen herself!

"Holy Mother! They’re the Queen’s Knights! The Queen’s Knights are here—the Queen is here!!..."

The sagging cheers halted, then, like bulls seeing a red cloth, surged up again in sudden frenzy, swelling into thunderous shouts and howls.

"The Queen! The Queen’s banner!..."

"The Queen’s will is our duty!..."

"May the Almighty protect the Queen!!..."

"Ja‑hoo! ja‑hoo!..."

The excited cries crashed forward from the port like Thunderbolt. Cavalry Captain Alvaro, who was riding at the very front bearing the Royal Banner, was so startled that the banner in his hand wobbled again and again. Seeing the Royal Banner sway in answer, the shouting only grew more frenzied, surging toward them like a tide. The Cavalry Captain at the edge of that tide wore a bewildered expression, like an owl dropped into the sea.

"? What’s going on? Did the fleet know I was coming and arrange this welcome in advance?..."

"?! Coño! Haha! The Almighty be praised—what an idiot, Antonio!"

On the other side of the tide, Columbus was first taken aback, then smugly triumphant, shaking his fist at Antonio in a show of dominance. Antonio’s face went iron‑blue, his lips pressed tight, like an old captain who had weathered countless storms but, in a shallow bay, slipped and struck some disgusting hidden reef. As for Brother Ramon, with the Scripture chest on his back, he furrowed his brow almost imperceptibly and murmured under his breath.

"A Queen living like a Holy Mother... Almighty, this is no good thing at all!..."