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“An amateurish attempt as steel,” Baltasar Maldonado said, turning the blade over in his hand. “I admit no true expertise in metal working, but I do know a man of your stature could get a much better sword. If you wish I could send an order to Toledo, no where on this earth can you find better blades.”

As he watched the Apu, the Sapa Inka’s uncle he was told, he was struck by how calm the man remained, if Maldonado had been swindled like this, there would have been hell to pay. His translator finished with his offer and awaited his response. Manco-Capac, yes that was his name, replied, more inquisitive then angry.

Maldonado’s translator nodded and began to repeat what Manco-Capac had just said.

“No, it is fine. But tell me would this blade be good for a beginner? Someone who is just starting to learn the art of steel?”

An odd request. Though, come to think of it, this entire conversation was odd. Maldonado had insisted upon no weapons being allowed to the meeting, but had relented after much begging from the Apu. Maldonado made his reply.

“I do not make a habit of buying my swords from beginners, but I suppose so. Now, if we could return to the subject of the missing men, Señor Castro is eager to see them returned and would like to remind you how important this is to him. Your nephew also sends word of his concern for the missing and orders you to find them as quickly as possible.”

As his translator relayed yet another message Maldonado noticed he was beginning to sweat. Maldonado hoped he wasn’t coming down with anything.

Suddenly Manco-Capac stood up and began to walk away. Maldonado scrambled after him, as did the translator. The sword clattered onto the floor, forgotten.

“There is little I can do to help you I am afraid, the Mapuche are a terribly uncivilized people, and will resort to banditry very quickly. As soon as I have more information I will act. Now come, I have something to show you.” The translator stumbled at Manco-Capac’s sudden movement, but managed to keep up fairly well.

Maldonado kept silent as he followed the Apu through the winding halls of his residence in Quillota out onto a field, where a group of Tawantinsuyu men were milling about with what looked like…..guns?

Manco-Capac shouted and the men lined up, he then turned and walked away, coming to stand beside the translator and Maldonado.

“What did he say?” Hissed Maldonado.

“I…am not entirely sure sir, I did not hear it all that well, but he said something about showing our guest something.”

Maldonado huffed. Manco-Capac again shouted.

The translator fidgeted with his Spanish belt, which had never fit him all that well, then replied.

“He says ‘fire’, not like the kind made of flame but…” He was cut short by the unmistakable sound of guns.

Manco-Capac turned and grinned. Maldonado gave a nervous smile.

“Ah I see your plan for the bandits now. But tell me, where did you get the gunpowder? Did Castro sell you some and not tell me?”

Maldonado did not need a translator to hear Manco-Capac’s answer.

“Quillota.”

Maldonado sneered a bit.

“May I remind you that Quisipe-Tupac, your King, has expressly banned acquiring gunpowder from any source other than Spain.”

Instead of translating, the translator pulled a knife on Maldonado, and pressed it against his gut.

Manco-Capac either understood Maldonado’s tone, or knew more Spanish then Maldonado expected, considering his reply. The translator did his duty, but kept the knife trained on Maldonado.

“My nephew may make all the decrees he wants to, but so long as Cusco remains under the foreign yoke, he has no power here.”