My troops marched toward the city center, where the largest palace loomed. I called a halt as we entered the central courtyard, and had my men set up the cannon just in case a trap had been prepared, for surely not all of these backwards people could think that we were gods.

The royal entourage met us in the courtyard. They were brilliant in their finery. A contingent of jaguar-helmeted guards surrounded the royal family. Scores of priests and priestesses, wives and concubines, scribes and courtiers filled the square. A man stood at their head. His skin coated in gold dust, his raiment a robe of brilliant feathers, surely this was their king. He was frail and weak with age. The king approached, ahead of his personal bodyguard, and laid his staff upon the ground in front of my horse's shoes. His eyes were the sad eyes of a broken man. I summoned Friar de Sousa to translate.

"In the name of his Royal Highness, King Manuel the Great of Portugal, your kingdom has been conquered, and must pay tribute. I am General Joao Silva de Machado. My word is law in this land. You will provide gold and treasure as I see fit. You will provide food, lodging and clean women for my soldiers. You will provide able-bodied men to join my army in the continuing pacification of this land as I see fit. Your people will learn the true Catholic faith and receive the blessings therein. Failure to follow my orders will result in your death and the deaths of your people. Trickery will not be tolerated. For each of my men attacked by your people, I will kill five hundred of yours. For any of my priests attacked by your people, I shall kill five hundred of your priests. If any of you tries to harm my officers or me, I will raze this city to the ground until no two stones stand upon another. I will kill every man, woman and child, feed your flesh to our hounds, and salt the earth so that nothing will ever grow upon this blighted land ever again." I waited for the friar to catch up. He spoke loudly so that the whole crowd could hear. I imagined that de Sousa's gift of languages would only carry him so far, but as long as the heathens understood the fundamentals of what I was trying to convey, I would be satisfied.

"But do not think that you can harm us. For we are gods to you." The priest stuttered a bit as he translated that bit of blasphemy. "You have witnessed the power we control. I can call fire from the heavens and smite you to dust. You cannot harm us, but you can try. If you try, you will be punished. Is that understood?"