Goddammit! The Chincha islands are right. there. Not to mention the deposits out on the salt lakes that can be used to make saltpeter! It's incredible to see just how much the Inka are struggling in gunpowder when they are sitting on lakebeds of raw ingredients.
The Sons of Inti Shall Not Perish
- Thread starter King of the Uzbeks
- Start date
it gonna be hillaious when some european witha big mouth wander by and note how you have supplies for gundpower
And the world's largest, at that. The Inka might even make a trade in exporting the stuff in later centuries, provided they don't monopolize and use up their entire raw deposits by then.
Those raw deposits lasted well into the 19th century IOTL, if anything an Inka monopoly on the deposits would even increase their durability by allowing for centralized stewardship of the resource (as opposed to the rapacious exploitation of the industrial era which ultimately exhausted them).
what do the Inca know of Europe besides the existence of Spain and Portugal? It would be wise to exploit the greed of nations like England and the Netherlands to provide a counter balance against Spain and Portugal. It seems like with the right technical and industrial knowledge plus the autocratic nature of the Inca, they could go a state capitalist route to mordernize their economy and military and pull a sorta South American meji restoration.
WWI was fueled by Chilean and Indian nitrates. Haber-Bosch was first developed on an industrial level by Germany during WWI and didn't spread until the end of the war.
I wonder if the Inca could charter a Portuguese ship to sail a group of diplomats to England? Especially when they learn that they're sitting on top of so much saltpetre... They have a lot of trade goods. Get another set of non-Spanish Europeans to come around the cape.
Getting around the cape is the problem ATM, it's a treacherous journey in the best of circumstances, and most European navies probably can't handle it without the intermediate ports the Portuguese and Spanish can use. However, I can see English diplomats hitching a ride with a Portuguese ship if they get wind of rumors of a gold-rich empire looking for friends in Europe.
Should have an update out by Sunday along with a not-entirely-cannon but hopefully still fun interlude
last admiral
Banned
Yeah! Cant wait to kick those smug cross-hugger of their high horse!
*Then realise that Malacca possibly still occupied by Portugal*
Aw shit......
PS:check out my signature
last admiral
Banned
Yeah! Cant wait to kick those smug cross-hugger of their high horse!
*Then realise that Malacca possibly still occupied by Portugal*
Aw shit......
PS:check out my signature
The Match
Today the Peruvian National Team is playing in their first Copa America final sine 1975. One of their nicknames is "Los Incas" and that is just too good for me to resist. You shouldn't take this update as a future set in stone, indeed it ignores butterflies to the extreme with Football/Soccer still existing. It's just a bit of fun. Tunr in tonight for your regularly schedules update to the narrative.
The Match
The sound from the stands was like thunder. Eighty thousand voices rained down upon the field, baying for blood.
They came from far and wide, these fans. Some from the far north, from the isthmus and the sea coasts. Others came from the hot deserts of the south, flying up into the clouds to see their team. Some came from the frozen islands of the farther south, departing the shores of their homes to cheer in Cusco. Some were from the mountains themselves, for them it was not so great a journey, but it still felt grand. In normal times these people would be mortal enemies. Those from Quillota would have stuck those from Cusco over a missed call long ago. The northerners would have screamed obscenities at the southerners for having the gall to defeat them in last years cup. But not today, today they are one.
There are other visitors of course, from outside the empire. Some are simply here for the spectacle. Others bought tickets expecting to see their teams arrive at the final, only to be disappointed. And then, there is the enemy.
Under normal circumstances, relations between the Tawantinsuyu empire and Denmark are cordial. The two countries have never been great friends or allies, but neither have they clashed in any way before. Most people in Cusco would have trouble finding Denmark on a map, and vise versa. But not today. Today Denmark is the most vile land on Earth. Copenhagen is a mire of scum and villainy unrivaled in human history. The Danes are hated beyond description. Nevermind the fact that all of the Empire cheered them as they defeated the hated Spanish in the quarterfinals. The Tawantinsuyu stands united against this forign invader. But still, the Danish come. Their love for their team is as fervent as the Tawantinsuyu. They come despite the distance, despite the cost, and despite the threatening glances thrown their way. This has not been the most violent of World Cups, but football can make men mad it is known. The sudden hostility from the locals has not dampered their spirits however. This is the farthest the team has gone in decades, and they get to witness it first hand. Their cheers are drowned out by the boos of the home crowd, but they are still there.
The President of the organizing committee, a greasy, gruby man dodging corruption allegations, stands in the center circle with a microphone. He gives a short speech praising the tournament and praises both teams. The crowd cheers. He praises the honest and fair refereeing. The crowd boos, each man remembering a different mistake made. He closes with a solemn bow to the royalty present. The Sapa Inka stands and gives a show wave. He is a tall man with broad shoulders. Every inch the ideal Emperor in the eyes of his people. His counterpart, although a mere king, sits beside him. His blond hair long ago went grey but he still stands with ease. Sensing the moment he does the clap that his subjects have adopted for his fans over the course of the tournament. They crowd, even those rooting against Denmark, cheer. The Sapa Inka laughs and shakes hands with the King. They wish each other good luck, but not too much good luck. The Prime Minister and Inkap Rantin also give small waves to the camera’s broadcasting the moment to billions worldwide.
Then the players arrive.
The cheers dwarf any given to kings or Emperors. The Danes wear white on red, while the Tawantinsuyu have rich golden jerseys. Earlier in the tournament they made a splash with rainbows on their jerseys, but for the final they have returned to the norm.
Some of the Danish look tired already. Their earlier games have taken them from Tumbez to Quillota and back again. And at some 2,400 feet above sea level, the air here is the thinnest they have ever played in. The Tawantinsuyu, by contrast, have played all of their games in the mountains, entirely coincidentally of course. They line up, the anthems play, and they prepare to begin.
All around the world, last minute bets are called. Food is procured in front of televisions. Great screens have been erected around the empire and in Denmark, so that the populace can watch from the streets. In the center of Cusco, before the great Temple of the Sun a massive crowd has gathered.
The referee, a tall Scotsman, flips the coin. It lands heads up. The Tawantinsuyu looks up at the sun and considers the wind. He decides that his team will take the opening kick-off. The Danish captain chooses his goal. They shake hands and the teams trot off into their final huddles. From there the teams line up. Goalkeepers in the back, all the way up to the forwards. Simple as that.
The Tawantinsuyu forward carefully places the ball on the ground, turning it bit by bit to get just the right angle. The referee blows his whistle, and the forwards passes to a teamate.
The game has begun.
The Match
The sound from the stands was like thunder. Eighty thousand voices rained down upon the field, baying for blood.
They came from far and wide, these fans. Some from the far north, from the isthmus and the sea coasts. Others came from the hot deserts of the south, flying up into the clouds to see their team. Some came from the frozen islands of the farther south, departing the shores of their homes to cheer in Cusco. Some were from the mountains themselves, for them it was not so great a journey, but it still felt grand. In normal times these people would be mortal enemies. Those from Quillota would have stuck those from Cusco over a missed call long ago. The northerners would have screamed obscenities at the southerners for having the gall to defeat them in last years cup. But not today, today they are one.
There are other visitors of course, from outside the empire. Some are simply here for the spectacle. Others bought tickets expecting to see their teams arrive at the final, only to be disappointed. And then, there is the enemy.
Under normal circumstances, relations between the Tawantinsuyu empire and Denmark are cordial. The two countries have never been great friends or allies, but neither have they clashed in any way before. Most people in Cusco would have trouble finding Denmark on a map, and vise versa. But not today. Today Denmark is the most vile land on Earth. Copenhagen is a mire of scum and villainy unrivaled in human history. The Danes are hated beyond description. Nevermind the fact that all of the Empire cheered them as they defeated the hated Spanish in the quarterfinals. The Tawantinsuyu stands united against this forign invader. But still, the Danish come. Their love for their team is as fervent as the Tawantinsuyu. They come despite the distance, despite the cost, and despite the threatening glances thrown their way. This has not been the most violent of World Cups, but football can make men mad it is known. The sudden hostility from the locals has not dampered their spirits however. This is the farthest the team has gone in decades, and they get to witness it first hand. Their cheers are drowned out by the boos of the home crowd, but they are still there.
The President of the organizing committee, a greasy, gruby man dodging corruption allegations, stands in the center circle with a microphone. He gives a short speech praising the tournament and praises both teams. The crowd cheers. He praises the honest and fair refereeing. The crowd boos, each man remembering a different mistake made. He closes with a solemn bow to the royalty present. The Sapa Inka stands and gives a show wave. He is a tall man with broad shoulders. Every inch the ideal Emperor in the eyes of his people. His counterpart, although a mere king, sits beside him. His blond hair long ago went grey but he still stands with ease. Sensing the moment he does the clap that his subjects have adopted for his fans over the course of the tournament. They crowd, even those rooting against Denmark, cheer. The Sapa Inka laughs and shakes hands with the King. They wish each other good luck, but not too much good luck. The Prime Minister and Inkap Rantin also give small waves to the camera’s broadcasting the moment to billions worldwide.
Then the players arrive.
The cheers dwarf any given to kings or Emperors. The Danes wear white on red, while the Tawantinsuyu have rich golden jerseys. Earlier in the tournament they made a splash with rainbows on their jerseys, but for the final they have returned to the norm.
Some of the Danish look tired already. Their earlier games have taken them from Tumbez to Quillota and back again. And at some 2,400 feet above sea level, the air here is the thinnest they have ever played in. The Tawantinsuyu, by contrast, have played all of their games in the mountains, entirely coincidentally of course. They line up, the anthems play, and they prepare to begin.
All around the world, last minute bets are called. Food is procured in front of televisions. Great screens have been erected around the empire and in Denmark, so that the populace can watch from the streets. In the center of Cusco, before the great Temple of the Sun a massive crowd has gathered.
The referee, a tall Scotsman, flips the coin. It lands heads up. The Tawantinsuyu looks up at the sun and considers the wind. He decides that his team will take the opening kick-off. The Danish captain chooses his goal. They shake hands and the teams trot off into their final huddles. From there the teams line up. Goalkeepers in the back, all the way up to the forwards. Simple as that.
The Tawantinsuyu forward carefully places the ball on the ground, turning it bit by bit to get just the right angle. The referee blows his whistle, and the forwards passes to a teamate.
The game has begun.
Chapter 2.15: The Black Horse
Abandoned Terraces were a common sight in this era.
Less people in the empire did mean less mouths to feed, but that did not stop famine from sweeping the land. Agricultural production plummeted as farms lay untended and crops rotted in the fields. When men went off to war, or were sent to the mines farms lost much of their labor supply. The women of the Tawantinsuyu were not inexperienced in farming, but the farms still had lost nearly half of their labor force, before even accounting for deaths due to the diseases that swept the realm. Traditionally the Tawantinsuyu kept all surplus food in great storehouses, to be distributed to the people in times of great need, or passing armies. The storehouses had been emptied, mostly to feed armies far to the North of the current borders, yet the times of great need remained. Fields grew covered in weeds, preventing any further crops from being grown for the time being.
Famine swept the land.
Titu Cusi has been accused of not caring for his people. And indeed, such care would not have been expected of an Apu, his true service being to the Sapa Inka and the gods. However it would be wrong to state that he left the people of the realm to die. Action was taken to try and alleviate the food shortages. The traditional Andean model of total control over the economy proved helpful here. Families were (forcibly) relocated, consolidating farmland and ensuring that no hands were idle during the harvest. Food was transported as rapidly as possible from areas of relative plenty to locations where the famine hit hardest. Llamas made superfluous by mules were put to the sword. When not on active duty soldiers were sometimes sent to find and slaughter cuy to be fed. Human sacrifices were offered which can be considered evidence that Titu Cusi was concerned with ending the famine while simultaneously being horrifying and ineffective.
The Breakfast of Champions
The forcible relocation of most of the remaining Mapuche killed most of the remaining Mapuche. Disease had thinned their numbers, and they did not get the aid that others received. And so they starved. Some fled to the Moluche, or attempted to make the dangerous crossing to the river valleys that others had fled to, but these numbers remained low. Most were forced to move north, with most ultimately aimed at Antisuyu. Many perished along the path, and unfamiliar with the land more died upon their arrival. Within a few decades the Mapuche within the empire had more or less been destroyed as a distinct group. In their place various groups from around the Empire would be settled. The south would still be a hotbed of discontent and a mishmash of culture, but there would be no great rebellions at the moment.
New administrators were appointed frequently
As Apu Titu Cusi asserted a heretofore unseen level of independence. When selecting local leaders he kept his own council, raising and lowering men through the ranks with abandon. This irked the lower level officials, who often held hereditary offices and typically managed their own affairs. While Titu Cusi never technically upset the order, he raised certain men to prominence in a way that left everyone else feeling left out. And when local bloodlines died out, he acted unilaterally in replacing them. Titu Cusi was personally quite able in terms of interpersonal relations, and, being a serial flatterer himself, was no susceptible to brown nosing. However, in order to fuel his micromanaging he often relied on the testimony of others, and not everyone was as immune to flattery. On the balance Titu Cusi raised energetic men of good birth to prominence, and brought the government of the Quallasuyu behind his efforts. However, his rampant micromanaging and demanding of loyalty to him strained the bonds between the people and the government.
In the upper echelons of the Quallasuyu as well as his personal followers in Cusco Titu Cusi favored men from a specific group. Men from what was now the Kingdom of Kito who had come south during the conquest of the Mapuche and never returned home. Many had summoned their families South rather then return to a now occupied homeland. The heads of provinces came nearly exclusively from this bloc. This alienated locals in the South, but on the other hand it ensured Titu Cusi maintained a monopoly on force inside Quallasuyu.
Had Quisipe Tupac not been on the throne, these actions might have offended the Sapa Inka. But Titu Cusi was able to smooth out any issues with his cousin with grandiose declarations of loyalty. He garnered support from the Cusco nobility by granting them positions of power within the city itself and the three other suyu. Most had already finagled their way into the higher levels of government via Quisipe Tupac’s pro-Cusco stand. But Titu Cusi, taking a cue from himself, allowed unprecedented power in local affairs. This earned him more power and influence, but also shattered the traditional mold of governance in the empire. Tawantinsuyu government had always been centralized, but it had always had local born leadership at the lowest levels. In his haste to unite the empire behind his vision Titu Cusi had shattered this balance. The general chaos in government contributed to famines, as the near constant shake ups often paralized response to the crisis.
Using his new found power Titu Cusi made moves to increase the efficiency of the empire. Waystations were fitted with stables for horses and mules, not just llamas and alpacas. Where it was possible roads were widened to allow for cavalry and carts. It was Titu Cusi, a great believer in the power of words, who built up the first collection that could really be called a library in the Tawantinsuyu Empire. And it was officials working under him who first began to create a written Quechua. Said officials were among the few who were literate in Spanish. Their methods were somewhat crude. They used the letters of the Latin alphabet, found sounds and used them to recreate the Quechua word. The result was an extremely blunt script. No silent letters, no odd pronunciations, just the words sounded out. The script was also extremely inconsistent. Spanish has multiple letter combinations that can create similar sounds, and so every man had different spellings of various words. At the moment these developments remained isolated to a miniscule number of men in Titu Cusi’s entourage. For the moment literacy in Quechua required literacy in Spanish, which limited its uses. The Quipu remained the preferred method of communication in the empire for now, as far more people were able to utilize knots then paper.
The Tawantinsuyu that emerged from the decade following Titu Cusi’s ascent to power was one that had seen much change. The Inkap Rantin would have two sons in the interval. His eldest, born in 1558 was named Amaru Capac, and another in 1562, Tupa Marachi. Cusco celebrated the births, and looked happily towards the future.
But the world did not stand still during these years of peace. And it would be these changes that led Titu Cusi to end them.
......
1: I will freely admit that I am taking a low estimate of the percentage of Andeans killed by disease alone as my basis. That doesn’t mean that they aren’t in a spiral of depopulation and death.
2: It’s ethnic cleansing folks, no two ways around it.
The soccer update was an amazing read, your language and description was so authentic and real. Wish I could line in a world where that was real.
For the canon update, glad to see the proliferation of Old World domesticates.
For the canon update, glad to see the proliferation of Old World domesticates.
I’m guessing the Incans throw their captain off a mountain everytime they lose a match. It’s interesting to see the formation of the Quechua written alphabet, I suspect that it’ll be fully recorded by Titu Cusi’s death. I can see a Quechification of the displaced minorities in the South.
Wait, Tawantinsuyu is gonna have a written alphabet, not being Quipu?
How does it look like?
How does it look like?
Hmm. This micromanagement-heavy style may well guarantee that Titu Cusi's successors have a hard time, dealing with people both resentful of the previous Apu's overturning of traditions as well as used to being micromanaged.
This is surely a good thing? Languages usually develop odd spellings, vowels with mismatched spellings and silent letters over time, as older methods of spelling a word are retained while the pronunciation changes as language evolves. Ideally, the transcription and the pronunciation fit one-to-one.
This is surely a good thing? Languages usually develop odd spellings, vowels with mismatched spellings and silent letters over time, as older methods of spelling a word are retained while the pronunciation changes as language evolves. Ideally, the transcription and the pronunciation fit one-to-one.
Interesting to see how Titu is going about handling rapid-fire modernization while dealing with what to lesser rulers would be a collapsing country. It is good that he is taking priority in modernizing agriculture, particularly with regard to the adoption of horses and mules as draft animals. Iron or steel tools becoming widespread will in time be a substantial boon to agriculture, but is likely some decades or centuries to come given the current demand for steel in military applications. I also feel that chickens will be a boon to local-level agriculture at this time; even in their relatively undeveloped state as compared to post-1900's poultry, being able to provide some more fresh protein semi-regularly from foliage and insects should help keep some families fed. (Though due to their genetic history being butterflied, the Araucana chicken - an interesting and very weird breed native to Chile, developed by the Mapuche there - will sadly never come into being. Ah well.)
Speaking of the Mapuche, with the effective destruction of the Andean populations, it appears that the new locus of their culture - and, fate willing, the core of their nation - is set to become the (increasingly Catholic) population settled at Buen Ayre. I wonder how they're faring around this time?
Speaking of the Mapuche, with the effective destruction of the Andean populations, it appears that the new locus of their culture - and, fate willing, the core of their nation - is set to become the (increasingly Catholic) population settled at Buen Ayre. I wonder how they're faring around this time?