Wind Rises in North America 1625

Chapter 598 Compromise (Part 1)

On March 14, in Madrid in springtime, the sunlight should have been warm, but the light streaming through the towering stained-glass windows of the West Indies Council building seemed frozen by a heavy atmosphere, leaving only cold and mottled colors, weakly projected onto the smooth stone floor.

The interior of the council hall was decorated with extreme luxury. Dark oak panels were carved with intricate coats of arms and mythological scenes, and a huge crystal chandelier lit hundreds of candles even in the daytime, trying to dispel the shadows in the corners, but unable to illuminate the heaviness and anxiety that permeated the air.

Several oil paintings hang on the wall, depicting the glorious moments of Spain's discovery and conquest of the New World—Columbus's landing, Cortés's meeting with Montezuma, Pizarro's conquest of the Incas...

The gaze of those triumphant conquerors seemed to be silently scrutinizing their troubled successors.

Most of the members of the West India Affairs Committee were already seated around the long conference table.

They wore black or dark purple velvet suits with white lace peeking out from the collars and cuffs, and various medals symbolizing their status and achievements pinned to their chests.

However, these gorgeous clothes could not conceal the gloom and unease between their brows.

The chairman of the committee, Marquis Luís Mendoza y Padilla, sat at the head of the long table.

He was a royal nobleman from a collateral branch, nearing fifty years old, with silver hair and a face that still faintly showed signs of his youthful handsomeness, but now it was covered with deep wrinkles, the marks etched by the heavy burden of power and the series of bad news in recent years.

His thin fingers tapped lightly on a thick file on the table—a series of disastrous reports sent back from the Americas over the past two years.

His expression was somewhat dazed, and his gaze was somewhat vacant, as if he could see through the tabletop and see some kind of future he didn't want to face.

Baron Cruz's voice echoed in the hall, low but with a hint of intensity.

"...In conclusion, esteemed members." Baron Cruz stood at one side of the long table, his voice slightly hoarse from days of travel and inner anxiety, but still maintaining the clear tone characteristic of court nobles, "What I have seen and heard in New Spain is by no means an exaggeration by Governor Pacheco to shirk responsibility."

"The combat effectiveness of the new Chinese army far exceeds any of our previous estimates. Their army is tactically flexible, well-equipped, and highly motivated. And their navy... well, well, they have effectively become the new hegemon of the Pacific."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the committee members present, revealing doubt, shock, resentment, and even more worry.

He took a deep breath and continued reciting the report he had rehearsed countless times in his mind, yet which was still disheartening: "The fall of Guadalajara and the defeat of Puebla were not just losses of thousands of soldiers, but also the breaking of the backbone of the Viceroyalty of New Spain."

"Today, Mexico City is like an isolated island, shrouded in the shadow of fear and defeat. And on the sea, from Callao in Peru to La Serena in Chile, our ports are constantly under the threat of the Xinhua fleet."

"The destruction of the Peruvian squadron, and the disastrous defeat of our salvage task force, have proven that we have no force capable of defending our American territories in the vast Pacific Ocean. Those restless indigenous rebel forces..."

Upon hearing this, Count de la Torre, a member of the affairs committee, couldn't help but interrupt him, his tone filled with barely concealed indignation: "Kruz, please forgive my bluntness. The problem you've raised is so serious, but I still can't believe everything you've said."

"How could a so-called 'New Continent Chinese Republic,' founded in a wild land and composed of Eastern exiles and lowly natives, possess such power in just a few years? Is there some conspiracy behind this that we have not yet discovered? Or is it that the officials of our colony are too incompetent, leading to this series of incredible failures?"

Baron Cruz did not get angry at the questioning, but simply shook his head wearily: "Your Excellency, when I first arrived in Mexico, I had the same doubts and...contempt as you."

"But I questioned the merchants who had escaped from Acapulco, interrogated the officers and soldiers who had survived capture, and the smugglers who had secretly traded with the New Chinese. They all described the New Chinese as having strict military discipline, efficient government organization, and a large number of artillery pieces and muskets that were superior to ours in some respects. They were not a rabble; they were a well-organized, targeted, and... well-informed emerging regional force."

"Governor Pacheco may have had his faults, but to attribute all the failures to his personal incompetence is to ignore the reality of the terrible opponent we are facing."

He walked to the table and picked up a document: "These are the ceasefire terms proposed by the New Chinese through Alonso Garza. They cede vast swathes of Pacific coastland from California to western Mexico, pay war reparations of five million pesos, fully open all American ports to trade with the New Chinese, and allow their ships to freely call at and resupply in any port along our coast. This…"

He smiled wryly, “These are indeed the terms of the victors, naked and undisguised.”

A suppressed gasp and hushed whispers rose in the hall.

Although the committee members were already aware of the harsh conditions through various channels, hearing these terms again still caused them a stinging sense of humiliation.

“This is a trampling of the dignity of the Kingdom of Spain!” Another committee member, Bishop Alpares, a high-ranking priest from the church, said in a deep and authoritative voice, “How can we present His Majesty with such humiliating terms? This will make our Kingdom of Spain a laughingstock throughout Europe! Moreover… God will not allow us to submit to infidels in this way!”

“Your Excellency…” Baron Cruz’s voice rose a few decibels, tinged with urgency, “Dignity needs strength to maintain it, and now, our strength in the Americas has vanished.”

"What's even more terrifying is that the ongoing war is draining our last bit of strength. Peruvian silver mines, due to the disruption of shipping, are effectively unable to export silver this year. Last year, we already suffered a loss of 3.5 million pesos due to the attack on our treasure ships, leading to a debt default. If silver inflows from Peru cannot recover in the coming years..."

He didn't say anything more, but everyone present understood what it meant.

The vast war machine and almost equally enormous debt of the Kingdom of Spain were entirely supported by a steady stream of gold and silver from the Americas.

Once this lifeline is cut off, defeats on the European battlefield, collapse of domestic finances, and even the erosion of the crown could follow in quick succession.

Just then, the heavy doors of the council chamber were gently pushed open, and a pale-faced clerk hurried in. Ignoring the ongoing discussion, he went straight to the chairman, Marquis Padilla, leaned down and whispered something, and placed a sealed urgent document in front of him.

Marquis Padilla frowned, picked up the silver paper cutter on the table, and skillfully cut open the sealing wax.

He unfolded the letter and quickly scanned it.

Immediately, his face turned ashen at a visible speed, and the hand holding the letter even trembled slightly.

The entire hall fell silent instantly, all eyes fixed on the chairman. An ominous premonition washed over everyone like a chilling tide. Marquis Padilla slowly raised his head, his gaze losing its former brilliance, becoming even more empty and desperate.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out.

He cleared his throat forcefully, his voice as dry as sandpaper.

"Gentlemen..." His voice echoed in the deathly silent hall, "Just received news... a fast ship from Grenada... the port of Panama... has fallen."

"Boom!" It was as if a thunderclap exploded in everyone's mind.

“This is impossible!” Count de la Torre stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor with a screeching sound.

"Has the news been confirmed?" Bishop Alvarez's voice trembled with disbelief.

“It’s confirmed…” Marquis Padilla placed the letter on the table with a heavy weight, “The Xinhua Navy launched a surprise attack and captured Panama Port. The defending forces… were almost completely wiped out, and the entire city fell into the hands of the Xinhua.”

Baron Cruz closed his eyes, his last shred of hope shattered.

His worst fears came true in the worst possible way.

He muttered to himself, his voice so soft that only he could hear it: "It's over... the two ocean passages... have been cut off."

The hall descended into utter chaos and panic.

The committee members could no longer maintain their composure and began whispering among themselves, their faces filled with fear.

Panama!
It was a strategic choke point connecting the American continent and linking the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans; it was a golden channel for transporting Peruvian silver to its homeland; and it was the lifeline of the Spanish colonial system in the Americas.

Its fall meant that Peru would become an isolated island, that the American colonies would be cut in half, and that silver from Peru would be almost impossible to reach Spain in the foreseeable future!
Marquis Padilla braced his hands on the table, struggling to maintain his balance and trying to preserve the last vestiges of order.

He looked at Baron Cruz, his eyes filled with an unprecedented solemnity and a hint of... inquiry.

“Baron Cruz…” he asked in a hoarse voice, “Given your understanding of the situation in the Americas, what will the New Chinese do next? Attack Port Bellow? Or… directly threaten Peru?”

Baron Cruz took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down and analyze: "Your Excellency, given the naval mobility and combat style demonstrated by the new Chinese, they are very likely to be conducting operations simultaneously."

"The occupation of Panama is not only to cut off our transportation, but also to gain a springboard for attacking the Caribbean and the Atlantic coast. Therefore, Port Bello may already be... in imminent danger."

“And Peru… has lost its naval protection. Callao and Lima are like ripe fruit in front of the Xinhua Army.” He paused, emphasizing his words. “Moreover, we must consider the worst-case scenario. What will those Indian tribes that have always submitted to us do after learning of the fall of Panama and seeing how weak we are? Indigenous uprisings throughout the Americas are probably no longer a distant threat.”

That last sentence, like a cold dagger, pierced through the psychological defenses of all the committee members.

They seemed to see flames of war raging across the New World, and Spanish rule crumbling under attack from both inside and outside.

Count de la Torre slumped back into his chair and said no more.

Bishop Alvarez made the sign of the cross on his chest and prayed softly.

The other committee members and the secretary looked at each other, their faces showing surprise.

Will the situation in the American colonies really evolve to this point?

Finally, Marquis Padilla, as if using all his strength, straightened up. His gaze swept over each committee member present, and although his voice was still low, it carried a resolute determination.

"Gentlemen, it's time to end the debate and the fantasy," he said slowly. "The fall of Panama has pushed us to the brink. The situation in the Americas is no longer a distant 'colonial riot,' but a fatal crisis concerning the very survival of the kingdom."

He picked up the devastating news from Grenada and the copy of the ceasefire terms brought back by Baron Cruz.

“Baron Cruz…” he turned to the envoy, “Please prepare yourself and come with me immediately to the palace to see His Majesty the King. We must report everything to His Majesty without reservation. Any concealment or delay will only lead to utter destruction.”

He took a deep breath and uttered the words he had once found difficult to say, but now had to face: "Peace talks...no, armistice negotiations, must begin immediately. No matter how harsh the conditions, we must buy ourselves a chance to breathe, for the sake of the Americas, and for the sake of Spain. Otherwise..."

He didn't say anything more, but everyone understood the unspoken message.

Otherwise, the sun of the Spanish kingdom in the New World might truly have fallen.

Baron Cruz bowed deeply: "Yes, Your Excellency Chairman."

He followed the slightly unsteady Marquis Padilla out of the council hall.

Behind him, all that remained was a deathly silence.

The conquerors in the murals seem to gaze at their departing figures with a hint of doubt in their eyes.
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(End of this chapter)