Code Geass: Juanjo of the Colonization

Turn 3: Colony

Manila Bay, Philippines, 1571

Frankly speaking, I did think that I was going to die somewhere back when we were still rowing in the middle of the ocean, and I would have actually preferred if it went that way. Despite everything that have been done to me; having been forced to row after all of my fellow slaves, Alonzo excluded, have finally perished; having been denied food and water for the rest of the journey; and worst of all, having been occasionally paid visits by Gonzales just to receive insults from him; here I was, slumped upon the large oar in front of me, gasping shallowly, unable to move, but very much alive. What’s more, I have heard the word that we have arrived to our destination.

If I were Alonzo, I would have every reason to celebrate, having survived all the way from Spain to whatever godforsaken land we sailed for inside the ship that has killed countless slaves before me. But since I wasn’t Alonzo, I would have given anything that still hasn’t been stripped away from me, just to drop dead right here and now.

When I heard the familiar sound of heavy footsteps approach me, my heart dropped like a stone.

“Well, well, well, Juanjo, I must say I’m impressed,” I heard Gonzales’ cold chuckle that still sent shivers down my spine, which was saying something, because I couldn’t even move a muscle at this moment. “You’re the only one who managed to survive the trip to what we’d like to call Las Islas Filipinas. Yes, it’s going to be a pleasure doing business on these islands.”

I merely stared at him without saying anything, not that I have anything to say to him in the first place.

“Well, say something,” Gonzales dictated.

I already knew in the first place that he had been looking for an excuse to manhandle me even after we have arrived to our destination, but having been put under this strange curse which I had to obey every single command he gives me, I was hit by a sudden urge to use my tongue. Since I was, at the very least, free to say anything I wish, I managed to stutter, “Y-you c-can shove p-pig’s s-shit in y-your m-mouth and s-shut up.”

Without warning, Gonzales grabbed me by my neck and pinned me to the wall as if wanting to choke me. I was already close to passing out, but I still stayed conscious to hear every single word he uttered next.

“You should definitely learn how to respect your superiors, Juanjo,” he growled on my ear before banging my head to the wooden hull. “And by superiors, I mean everyone else, because in your state, you are lower than the lowest slave.”

He then let go of me and let me drop down the floor, coughing. He then ordered some men to tie me up as I vaguely heard something about giving me as an offering to the natives of this land. Under normal circumstances, blood would have rushed to my head in fury for being treated as a mere object, but in my current state, I just kept on shallowly breathing as I was tightly bound in a way that I needed to be dragged along in order to move, not that I had any strength to move by myself, anyways.

My head was still spinning as I was dragged out of the ship, but I eventually felt that my feet were scraping the sandy beach of the place I remembered Gonzales called Las Islas Filipinas. Other than the fact that it was so humid, nothing else had registered to my senses as my vision had blurred and I can only guess that it was a bright and sunny day at the seaside, where I was then forced to kneel.

Perhaps, right now, my mind is playing tricks on me. Perhaps, it was God’s way of saying that he was already welcoming me to his Kingdom. Perhaps, it could even be spirits making fun of me in broad daylight. But some time after I was shoved into the sandy beach, I then heard sounds of clanging metal and screaming. I tried to look around, but all I could see were vague waves of colors which somewhat reminds me of a riot.

I closed my eyes shut and shook my head in order to gather my bearings, the sound of screaming still ringing in my ears. Just then, I felt something round bump on my knees, as if it rolled from somewhere. I had no choice but to shoot my eyes open, which I regretted almost at once when I finally saw what was in front of me.

It was the severed head of Capitán Mariano Gonzales.

I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. I wanted to cry, but no tears flowed from my eyes. I wanted to fall over, but I just knelt there, transfixed to the head that used to belong to the man who mistreated me in the worst way possible.

Eventually, things around me seemed to calm down. I just found myself being released from my bonds by some local soldiers, though they still treated me roughly. Two of them pulled me up my feet, but I could barely stand by myself so they had to drag me to who-knows-where. When we have reached where we were going, I fell on the feet of a fearsome-looking man who was dressed magnificently in colorful clothing.

No, he wasn’t a man. Hell, he isn’t even barely close to reaching my age. He looked like he was still in his early teens, yet I could feel his fearsome gaze at me, trying to pierce through every sinew in my body.

I vividly heard him speak to me in his deep and harsh voice, but I was unable to understand a word he said. When I didn’t respond, I felt him grab me by my collar then spoke in a language I finally understood. “I said look at me!”

My head hung from an awkward angle from being grabbed by the collar of my now torn shirt, so I mustered all my remaining strength to look straight into his face. Once my eyes hit his, however, something strange happened.

I could clearly see on the young man’s right eye the symbol I saw in Monteverde’s eyes. The symbol then flew to my eyes and everything around me seemed to disappear, to be replaced by a sped-up rendition of all my memories from the moment my family was wrongfully accused, to me being forced to watch my family’s execution, to Monteverde putting the curse on my inside the dark dungeon, and even me killing off Alonzo against my will. As soon as the rendition ended, I felt extremely lightheaded and fell back to the ground, facing the sky. Tears started flowing from my eyes, though I wasn’t sobbing or anything. Being reminded of my misfortunes like that had broken my heart anew and I wished I would just perish right now.

Once again, I was dragged off somewhere else. I honestly thought I was about to be killed off, which was honestly acceptable after everything that happened to me in the past few months, but to my surprise, I was being led to what looked like a makeshift clinic where, at this point I received an even greater wave of surprise, they started to treat my injuries. I may only have been able to pick up a few words from what they were saying, but for the first time in months, it made my heart swell after being treated as their own.

Several hours have passed and I was already lying on a bed beside the other soldiers who had their injuries being treated. At first, I was extremely conscious about what they’re thinking, given that I am one of the Spaniards that, from what I’ve heard from some people who passed by, tried to invade their home. However, the way they look at me with pity made me think otherwise.

When all my senses have fully recovered, I was able to properly assess the state of my body. I have become bone-thin due to starvation, and it was a miracle that I can still move. I can just make out the outline of my internal organs from my abdomen, which somewhat made my stomach lurch. Countless bruises covered my body, which was even more evident due to my fair complexion. I tried to touch my face and I felt that a good length of whiskers had grown at the sides of my face.

I jolted upwards when I saw the young man who made me see all my miserable memories back at the beach enter the makeshift clinic, which I regretted because I then felt a searing pain on my stomach because of my sudden movement. The pain was excruciating, but I tried not to make a noise.

“You still haven’t eaten anything, have you?” the man questioned.

I didn’t want him to grab me by my collar once again, though someone had taken my shirt off a while ago, so there was no collar to grab. Nevertheless, I still tried to answer as soon as I can. “I… h-haven’t, señor.”

“Do away with that honorific, Spaniard,” he said. “You shall call me Rajah Sulayman from now on.”

Nodding, I answered, “Y-yes, Rajah Sulayman, I shall.”

Rajah Sulayman stared at me for a long time before he asked, “Tell me, Spaniard, what is your name?”

“Uh, my name is…” I began, but that same force that controlled my mouth led me to say, “…Juan… Jose… de Cincel.”

His eyes narrowed at how I acted. “Hmph! I know for a fact that the… ah, curse you have prevents you from saying or remembering your real name.”

I could only confirm it with a nod before he spoke one last time. “We have a lot to talk about, Spaniard, but for now, I want you to be one with my citizens, is that understood?”

“A-as you wish, Rajah Sulayman,” I agreed. I was in no condition to question him why, neither did I have the nerve to do so.

He gave me one last curt nod before he went to check on his other soldiers.