To quote Red from Overly Sarcastic Productions, "Nothing owns colonial Spain harder than it owned itself." Seriously, check out her video on El Dorado, it's hysterical.

This is dedicated to every country that ever experienced Spanish colonization (and with a special dedication to Colombia – no matter what our president says, we do love you, Colombia, and you deserve so much better).

Warning: Colonialism (and Spain kind of being a dick), but the colonies do get some small bit of vengeance. Let's just say that it's tragic, but in a funny kind of way. Or funny in a tragic kind of way.

The Golden Man

It was an ordinary day when Muisca and his little sister made their way to the lake.

Admittedly, it was the day they were initiating a new zipa to rule them, but it still felt like a regular day to the two immortal beings. Muisca had been around for some time and was the main nation in charge of caring for his little sister – mostly because he was the strongest, most advanced tribe in the entire region. None of the tribes knew who the little girl would represent, though they did recognize her as a personification of their lands, so Muisca named the child "Chía" after the powerful moon goddess of his people.

"You did make enough chicha, right?" Muicha said to the child as the two of them carried armfuls of pots.

"Of course, Big Brother," Chía replied. She was a sweet-faced little girl with long locks of wavy, dark brown hair and large, bright eyes. "I always make enough."

"Just making sure. The last thing we would ever want is to not have enough chicha for a festival."

"Yeah, but when are you going to let me have some?"

"When you're old enough to appreciate it." And the same goes for boyfriends, Muisca mentally added. He had no problem with his baby sister enjoying booze and boys, but only when she looked physically old enough to be considered a woman. Like, twelve? Twelve was the normal age for human women to start experimenting with their bodies, right? He couldn't be entirely sure as his women tended to lose their virginity as soon as possible so people wouldn't call them 'ugly virgins.'

"Fine," said Chía. "But you had better buy me some lulo juice for our picnic."

The two siblings continued on their way, passing familiar smiling faces, watching as Muisca's people shared and traded goods amongst themselves. The two of them finally found a nice spot close to the lake where they swapped a few pots of chicha for some food and a couple of gold trinkets to contribute to the ceremony.

"I still think we got a raw deal," Muisca said as he looked over a gold statute he'd gotten that was roughly the same height as his little sister. "I mean, does this really look pretty enough?"

"I think it's nice," said Chía.

"'Nice' is all well and good, but is it good enough for the goddess of the lake? I'll admit that the bracelets and necklace we got are really good craftsmanship, though not a patch on your metalwork."

"Aw, thank you, Big Brother!"

He meant it, too. His little sister had been spending a lot of time training with the other apprentice girls and boys in the goldsmith workshop. Her work with platinum was even better than her work with gold and Muisca just wished that they'd had enough time for his sister to finish something really beautiful for them to throw in Lake Guatavita.

"Hey, Big Brother, who are those strange men over there?" Chía asked, pointing.

Muisca looked in the direction she'd indicated and saw a group of rough-looking men in metal clothes and hats. Most of the men were older, with thick hair on their faces, but there was one young man with curly, dark hair and bright green eyes who smiled in their direction when he noticed them. Muisca had a very uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. Thankfully, it didn't look like the group of men was large enough to be a threat – even though Muisca largely avoided armed conflict, there were warriors on standby in case anyone started to cause trouble due to the recent problems with Muisca's brother Panche in the west. It reassured Muisca a little, but he still wanted to know what these strange men wanted.

"Those are the foreigners from over the sea," he explained to Chía. "The 'conquistadors.' They've been causing a lot of trouble for our northern neighbors, from what I hear. Don't look at them, just try to pretend they're not there and maybe they'll leave."

"Hola," a voice said right behind him, nearly causing Muisca to jump out of his skin he was so startled.

"Do not do that!" Muisca said pleadingly. "What in the name of the great sun god Sué is wrong with you?"

"Ah, my apologies, mi amigo," the stranger said. He was the young, green-eyed foreigner. The older, meaner-looking men were standing a short ways behind him. "I was told that the two of you were like me and that you would be the best ones to serve as my guides for this…what is it, anyway? Some kind of holiday?"

"It is the sacred initiation of our new ruler," Muisca explained impatiently. "Or, rather, the ruler of the southern half of my land. The zipa. The zaque rules in the north."

"And they both hate each other," Chía added helpfully.

"Shh, shh," Muisca hissed at his little sister, before whispering quickly in their shared language so the foreigner wouldn't understand, "Don't tell them such things. You never tell strangers about internal conflicts."

"Excuse me," said the foreigner. "Tell me what is happening, please."

"Yes, my apologies," Muisca mumbled. "I suppose introductions are in order. I am Muisca. This is my little sister."

"I am the Kingdom of Spain," the foreigner said with a flourish of the red cloak he was wearing as he gave a courteous bow.

Muisca exchanged a look with Chía.

"Right," Muisca said slowly. "Good for you. Uh, do you mind just standing there and not, you know, causing any disruptions. This ceremony is kind of important to us."

"Of course, of course," Spain said, waving a hand dismissively. "Just carry on as normal. I am not even here."

Muisca and his sister shared another uncertain glance, but turned their attention to where the young zipa was being led onto a dais for the priests to perform the sacred rites.

"So, who is he?" Spain asked, pointing at the zipa.

"He is Tisquesusa," Muisca explained patiently. "And don't point at him. He's sacred."

"Ah, so, it's his coronation, then." Spain watched, eyes widening, as the priests began to anoint the new zipa with gold dust. "That is certainly a lot of gold."

"If you say so." Personally, Muisca didn't see what the big deal of a little gold dust was. He, himself, was wearing a gold nose ring with a large emerald set in it (he'd gotten a good price on emeralds from his brother Muzo, who couldn't seem to get rid of the stones fast enough). It wasn't even the nicest piece of jewelry he had, so why was this Spain so interested in gold dust?

"Was the coronation so lavish for his father?" Spain continued.

"What do you mean? Tisquesusa's father was never zipa." Muisca narrowed his eyes at Spain in suspicion. "I hope you are not implying something about our leader's parentage, because the only time we had a case of incest among our leaders was with a zaque up north and he was soundly punished for bedding his sister."

"Lo siento," Spain said holding up his hands defensively. "What are you talking about? Incest? Why would you assume I was implying that?"

"Because the zipa is always the son of the last zipa's eldest sister, obviously." Muisca was now looking at Spain as if he was an idiot. "How else would you know you have a legitimate ruler if he is not born from a daughter of the royal lineage?"

"It would seem pretty crazy to have any other kind of system," Chía added.

The two locals ignored the disturbed look they were getting from Spain and returned to watch as the zipa was led onto a reed raft with a few attendants and some gold offerings. Once the raft had gone out a good distance, the zipa leapt into the frigid waters and began washing the gold dust off while his attendants threw the offerings into the water. On shore, the crowds were cheering, singing, and dancing.

Muisca, not wanting to seem like a bad host, offered Spain a jar of chicha.

"Here, have a drink," he said.

"Ah, gracias," Spain said uncertainly as he accepted the drink. He choked a bit on his first sip.

"Excuse me for a moment." Muisca picked up the gold statue he had purchased and walked to the water's edge to join a large group of people.

As the zipa was returned to shore, Muisca and the rest of the people began to hurl their gold offerings into the water as far as they would go. Muisca smiled at the distance he was able to get on his statue and it made such a nice splash when it hit the water. He then returned to his little sister's side and was surprised by the slack-jawed expressions of Spain and his men – they seemed almost horrified by what they had just witnessed.

"You just…you just threw God knows how much gold into that lake," Spain stammered in disbelief.

"…And your point is?" said Muisca. Honestly, he had no idea what the foreigner's problem was.

Spain just continued to stare at him and Muisca decided to try ignoring him again. Muisca opened a jar of chicha for himself and sat down next to his little sister as they tucked into the food they had bought. Some nice roasted guinea pig with a side of quinoa and beans – one of his favorite dishes. He reluctantly tried to offer some to Spain, but he and his men were still staring at the lake.

Oh, well, thought Muisca. His loss.

Muisca honestly didn't think much about Spain since that day. He had his own problems when a war finally broke out between him and Panche.

Really, Muisca had better things to do with his time than deal with his brother's violent antics. He could be out negotiating business or writing some important manuscripts for the archives. He was a busy nation, after all. So, after a long period of upset, with his main boss Tisquesusa finally putting an end to the needless bloodshed, the last thing Muisca was ever expecting to see when he came back to his little home in Bacatá was that Spain guy ransacking his house while Chía was in a corner crying.

"What do you think you are doing?!" Muisca demanded.

"Hola, mi amigo," Spain said in a low, eerily calm voice. As he turned around, Muisca saw the man's eyes were wide and somewhat manic. "It is good to see you again. I was just in the area and thought I would drop by, because, ah, I was just wondering…" Spain then darted forward, grabbed Muisca by the front of his clothes, and began to shake him. "Where is the gold?!" Spain demanded. "I know you have a secret stockpile of gold somewhere! Tell me where it's hidden!"

Muisca opened his mouth and then closed it. He turned to look at his little sister, who shrugged and shook her head. He turned back to Spain.

"…Have you been eating coca leaves or something?" said Muisca.

Spain did not take kindly to that response and pointed some strange object under Muisca's chin that he made click with a flick of his finger. Muisca had no idea what it was, but he was reasonably sure it was a weapon.

"I will ask you again, amigo," said Spain, smiling in a vicious way. "Where is the gold?"

"Well, I have a few gold nose rings and bracelets I wear on special occasions," said Muisca. "I was going to get rid of them this year, anyway. You can have them if you want."

"No! I mean the source of all your wealth!"

Muisca stared blankly at him again.

"The salt mines are a little ways north of this village," he said. "I can show you, if you're really that interested."

"I don't care about salt mines. Just tell me where you mine all your gold."

"But what does gold have to do with wealth?"

"It just does! Now answer the question!"

"May I ask you a question? Were you ever dropped on your head as a baby?"

In retrospect, maybe Muisca shouldn't have tried to get smart with Spain considering how crazy the foreigner was acting.

But, in Muisca's defense, he wasn't really in the mood to be polite to someone who barged into his home like he owned the place and started demanding to know the location of some 'secret stash' of gold. Honestly, why would anyone hide caches of gold? It's not like it was actually useful for anything. Not like salt or maize or most other non-gold things.

In any case, Muisca had gotten dragged away and bound with iron manacles to await "further interrogations." Something he really did not like the sound of. Little Chía had protested on his behalf, screaming and crying and calling Spain and his men "ugly virgins." Oddly, though, none of the men found such an insult offensive and a couple of them actually started snickering.

"Aren't you cute?" Spain said, hoisting tiny Chía up by the back of her dress. "I think you will get on well with the rest of my new little brothers and sisters."

"I am not your little sister," Chía yelled, flailing about in fury. "Put me down!"

"You can be part of my colony of New Grenada. And you'll need a new Christian name, of course. I think 'Cándida' sounds good."

"But my name is-"

"Do not worry about anything. I will make sure you learn how to read and write like a civilized person."

"But I already do-"

"And you won't ever have to practice any of those barbaric customs you have, like human sacrifice and cannibalism."

Chía's mouth hung open as she tried to grasp the sheer amount of idiocy and delusion this foreigner must be suffering from. She and Muisca had never practiced anything as disgusting as cannibalism. And human sacrifice? Muisca convinced his people to stop doing that decades before they had ever even met Spain.

"Men," Spain said to his soldiers. "Take the prisoner away."

Chía watched, eyes streaming with tears, as her big brother was roughly shoved by one of the conquistadors and made to start walking. Muisca gave her a sad smile before he was forced to turn away. The little girl did the only thing she could sensibly do in that situation. She started screaming, kicking, and scratching at Spain as relentlessly as she could.

Spain had a few light bruises and scratches on his face when he entered the stuffy little room to drop off his newest colony.

Chía scowled at the fact that she hadn't been able to do more damage to him. No matter how hard she tried, Spain remained unfazed by her attacks. She soon found herself unceremoniously dumped onto a small chair. Spain smiled down at her as if he hadn't just disrupted her very way of life, kidnapped her, and imprisoned her family, all for the sake of getting his hands on some worthless scraps of yellow metal.

"You be good, now, Cándida," he said.

"My name is-" she tried to shout.

"You listen to your teacher. She's going to teach you how to read and to be a proper Spanish lady. Okay, you have fun."

With that, he turned and left with the slam of the door behind him. Never, in her entire existence, had Chía met anyone so infuriating.

"You'll get used to it," said a voice beside her.

Chía jumped a bit as she was startled by the other little girl seated in the chair next to her. She was a pretty girl, maybe a little older than Chía (though not by much), with long, thick curls of rich, black hair and intelligent, warm, brown eyes. She was wearing a frilly dress of dark red fabric and a small necklace with a cross-shaped pendant.

"Who are you?" said Chía.

"Mēxihca," said the girl. "But the idiot calls me 'New Spain.' You can call me 'Rosa,' if you want."

"I think I have heard of you. My big brother said there were great empires in the north that were destroyed by Spain."

"Ah, that would be my family. I suppose, like me, you represent the whole of the land your family lived on."

"Y-yes, but, how did you end up here?"

"Spain likes to keep his colonies close. Look around you."

Chía finally took note of the rest of the room. She and Rosa were not the only colonies there. She even recognized a couple of her former neighbors who had disappeared some time ago under mysterious circumstances.

"Oh, I am sorry, I forgot to ask for your name," said Rosa.

"I am Chía."

"Nice to meet you. What colony are you now?"

"I am no one's colony!"

"You are now. I suggest you accept your new station in life and respond to the names Spain has given you."

"But-but why? Why should I have to change who I am because some stranger took me away from my family?"

"Because he's the one with all the power right now." Rosa's face became solemn. "Long before I met Spain, I had to learn the importance of respecting the most powerful force in my life. My sister taught me through a mixture of admiration and fear. As much as I hate Spain for what he has done and will continue to do, I cannot dare to challenge him."

As much as she didn't want to admit it, Chía knew Rosa had a point. Not even Muisca's people were free of power-plays and bids for control. She loved her brother, but she knew she was also valuable to him. She was his land, so he loved and cherished her, but he did not want the rest of their brothers and sisters to have the same influence over her that he did. It didn't mean they weren't family, but there was still that little hint of selfishness in their relationship.

"So," said Rosa. "Who are you?"

"I…" Chía choked a bit. "I am Cándida. And I am part of New Grenada."

Rosa nodded and turned to face the front of the room as an irritated young woman entered the room. She appeared to be a teenager in physical terms, though Chía could sense the lady had far more years to her. Her hair was long, held back by a jeweled headband, and of a dark blonde shade which Chía had never seen before. Her eyes were green like Spain's and she had a soft, tan complexion. She wore a heavy dress of red and gold, which looked decidedly uncomfortable for such a hot and humid climate.

"Hola, children," the girl said. "For anyone new, today, I am Catalonia. Or 'Catalina Oriol' to use my human name. Now, I am not any happier about being here than you are, so let us please get through this with as little difficulty as possible."

"She's one of Spain's underlings from his homeland," Rosa whispered to Chía. "She hates him almost as much as the rest of us."

"We're going to be working on learning how to read and write," Catalonia continued.

"But I already know how to read and write," Chía insisted loudly. "My big brother taught me the moment I was old enough to hold a writing stick."

"Great for you." Catalonia had a very sarcastic way of speaking. "But, unfortunately, it's not Spanish. And, apparently, nothing but Spanish is good enough for Spain. Well, Spanish and Latin, but we won't get to Latin for a while. No other languages are permitted because Spanish is the only civilized language left in the world." She sounded very bitter as she said that last part.

It was the worst day of Chía's life. Yet, she got a strange satisfaction out of knowing that everyone else, even her teacher, was as miserable about being under Spain's control as she was. After the lesson, Rosa introduced her to the other colonies and helped clarify a few more things about how her new situation. A few of the older colonies, a set of islands from the Caribbean, shared their own advice. It all really boiled down to 'keep your head down, don't make him angry, just go along with it for now, hope for the best.'

But, the thing of it was, she didn't want to just sit back and watch her family and human friends get slaughtered or enslaved. Sure, none of the other colonies did, either, but they had no idea what to do about it. That's when her thoughts began to churn with what she had learned recently about her new 'boss.'

He wanted gold. He didn't care how he got it, he just wanted it. He was basically deaf to anything that did not fit neatly into his view of how things should be. And, on top of it all, he was borderline insane – or maybe not even borderline; he had seemed extremely out of it when he started demanding to know where the 'secret stash' of gold was being kept and…

A small, devious smile spread across the little girl's face.

Spain dragged himself into his room and face-planted directly onto his bed.

He was badly bruised, bleeding, soaked in mud, covered in bites from various insects and animals, and had arrows and poison-tipped darts sticking out of his butt. He had finally made it back to his home country after over a year of fruitless searching. He didn't know what he had done wrong. He had gotten a tip-off from an anonymous source about a hidden place where the locals had stashed the motherlode of golden hoards and had, understandably, dashed off in search. Before that, one of his colonies had said she'd heard a rumor about a golden cache hidden far, far away in the jungle.

As he and his men made their way along the winding river, his thoughts had swirled with images of a majestic city with streets paved in gold tucked away within the dense jungles.

He had not found it, yet. He did find a tribe of warrior women, like the Amazons of Greek myth, who had proceeded to cause him grievous bodily harm. As a result, he named the river the 'Amazon.' The only thing Spain had brought back for his troubles was piles of platinum, which he promptly dumped because, really, who needed worthless unripe silver?

Maybe he just hadn't been looking in the right place. Perhaps the locals had misremembered where the city was? It's not like they were civilized enough to keep accurate records and maps of things. The only documents Spain had ever uncovered during his battles with the native peoples of the Americas were gory depictions of Devil-worship which Spain had ordered burned so that no one would ever be corrupted by such vile texts again. In future years, Spain would no doubt be celebrated for such foresight in halting the spread of idolatry and Satanic rites. Really, was it too much to ask for his due reward of a golden city?

Well, he would just have to wait and be patient. For the time being, he would focus on enforcing Spanish law among some of the more rebellious areas.

"Mr. Spain! Mr. Spain!" a bedraggled little boy shouted as he burst into the room.

Now, which one is he, again? Spain thought to himself. Peru! That's it.

"What is the matter, Luis?" he said.

"Mr. Spain," the child repeated frantically. "I know where El Dorado is!"

Spain's eyes widened manically and he picked up the colony and leaned in really close to him.

"Tell me!" he demanded. "Where is it?!"

"It's in the completely opposite direction that you last traveled. All you have to do is…"

"Seriously, why do you keep doing this to the tomato-bastard?" Romano said as he sat with Chía.

They were watching Spain hastily loading supplies onto a ship to head back to the New World for another misadventure. Mexico, Peru, and a few others were with them – while they hadn't gotten on too well with Romano, at first, they had all gradually reached a friendly understanding with him. A short way off, their tutor Catalonia was making bets with Belgium and Sicily about how long it would take Spain to realize that he'd gone on a wild goose chase this time.

"You mean to say that he doesn't deserve this?" said Chía with a frown.

"No, no," Romano insisted, his face turning red as it often did when he was around pretty girls. "He's basically just doing this to himself because he's an idiota. But why are you getting so many of the other colonies in on this?"

"Because many of them have family back home they want to protect. If Spain goes haring off on another stupid quest for El Dorado, he's too distracted to hunt down our loved ones and lock them up like he did to my brother Muisca. I just felt that it was only fair to lend a hand to my friends."

"Plus," Mexico added. "You have to admit it's hilarious watching him spend precious time scrambling after something that doesn't even exist and getting his ass handed to him for good measure. It's like a living parable about the dangers of greed."

"You know what would be even funnier?" said Peru. "If he actually found something valuable on one of his quests and just threw it away because it wasn't gold."

"Come now, Luis," said Mexico. "Not even Spain is that stupid."

"Ay, dios mio!" Spain yelled in frustration. "More of these damned counterfeit coins?!"

"I am sorry, sir," said Spain's second-in-command. "We had to seize a whole shipment of coins because someone had fused platinum copies with a small amount of gold to pass them off as real. What should we do with them, sir?"

"Throw them in the sea. It is the king's orders. Every scrap of platinum counterfeit gold needs to be disposed of as quickly as possible. We can't have something so worthless devaluing our currency."

"Of course, sir. We do have some good news, though. We managed to fill several galleons with real gold we acquired from the natives and they are all set to be sent back to the homeland to make millions of real gold coins."

"Excellent news! One cannot have too much money in circulation, after all."

For some reason, miles upon miles away, thousands of bankers, accountants, and merchants felt chills go down their spines.

"Now that that is taken care of, we can begin preparations for our next expedition to find El Dorado. I know the last couple dozen or so searches did not turn out so well, but I have a really good feeling about this one."

Several years and several more failed expeditions later…

Spain was looking over a map of the New World, crossing out all the places he had looked so far.

All right, so there had been a few…setbacks over the years. And, sure, maybe Spain was facing some issues at home and abroad, not to mention that jackass Portugal kept stepping on his toes and that bastard England had destroyed Spain's precious Armada.

Oh, God, just thinking about it still made Spain feel physically ill.

At least he was far, far away from the bushy-browed pirate and could focus on finding his golden city to maybe recoup some of the financial losses he'd incurred from the whole debacle – to say nothing of his need to finance his current war with Portugal. He could take some small measure of comfort in knowing that England was back on his pitiful slip of an island and not in any position to ruin Spain's day—

SLAM! The door to Spain's office was flung open.

"All right, Spain," said a familiar, grating voice. "Hands where I can see them."

Spain heaved a resigned sigh and raised his hands to show he wasn't armed. Why did God hate him so much?

"Now, then," said England. "I've heard a little whisper on the grapevine about a certain 'city of gold.' Care to start talking?"

Spain was many things, but he was not a coward.

Especially not when someone was threatening his gold. So, when England strapped him to a chair and started interrogating him on the whereabouts of El Dorado, Spain was not going to give England the satisfaction of learning anything about the city of gold – leaving aside the fact that Spain, himself, didn't know anything about where the city was or even if it was in the southern half of Spain's empire. Who knows? Maybe Spain should have been looking in his northern territories the whole time?

"I will ask you, once again," England drawled as he circled Spain's bound form. "Where is the city, Spain?"

"I don't know," Spain answered – more honestly than he was happy with.

"Don't give me that. I know for a fact that the city of Manõa is in the Guyana area, on the shores of a certain Lake Parime."

"Well, it is the first I've heard of it. Thanks for the tip, England. I will be sure to search there."

"Stop playing dumb, Spain!" England grabbed the chair and forced it back sharply so Spain was staring up at him. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. Manõa, the city with streets paved in gold. I want it, Spain."

"You and me both, amigo. But I haven't ever heard of a Manõa or a Lake Parime."

"Do you take me for a fool?" Before Spain could give his honest answer, England had whipped out a map of the southern Americas with a rather crudely-drawn design of a lake slapped right across the center. "It's right here on the map, Spain."

"Did you get drunk and start playing make-believe with my colonies? Don't you have better things to do with your time?"

"Tell me where the city is, Spain!"

The rather pointless argument went on for some time before some of England's men arrived to warn him that Spanish reinforcements were within sight and it would probably be for the best if they took their leave. Spain later filed an official complaint with his king over the incident and, while England, himself, escaped with nothing more than a stern warning, the English captain responsible for launching the English search for the lost city of gold, one Sir Walter Raleigh, ended up having his head put on the chopping block for inciting an international incident.

Present Day…

The Republic of Colombia, who was once a little girl whose big brother named her "Chía," sighed tiredly as she watched her former colonizer staring at a map of South America during a recess at one of the world conference meetings. Even after hundreds of years, Spain still believed the lost city of gold was out there, just waiting to be found. Actually, a lot of countries believed it.

Heck, England had actually found his way to Lake Guatavita in the nineteenth century and employed a company to try and drain it to get the gold. The bottom of the lake was a murky sludge that turned into concrete under the sun, making artifact retrieval very difficult. After incurring hundreds of thousands of pounds of debt, England ended up earning a total of about five-hundred English pounds by selling the recovered artifacts at Sotheby's and the company he'd hired went bankrupt. After several similar incidents, Colombia made it very clear that there would be no more foreign attempts to get rich by exploiting her people's national heritage…or else.

It wasn't like England had been the first to try and exploit Lake Guatavita, but, like his laughably idiotic attempt, everyone before (and after) him failed to break even on any such endeavor.

Gee, it's almost like Lake Guatavita is sacred, or something, Colombia thought sarcastically.

Even if she was a Christian now, Colombia couldn't help but feel that there was something mystical and otherworldly about Lake Guatavita and the other holy lakes her brother Muisca had worshipped at. Considering all that had happened to nations like Spain and England when they tried to take advantage of Colombia and her people, it felt like the ancient goddess of the lake was having the last laugh.

There had been many times that Colombia considered explaining to Spain the truth, but he'd never really listened to anyone other than himself – and Romano, sometimes. The fact was, the lost city of gold was purely Spain's own invention. It had never existed in reality, but Spain had been so certain that the real treasure trove was out there waiting to be discovered that he ignored anything that conflicted with this delusion.

He had literally found a civilization that covered their king in gold dust and threw the equivalent of Spain's yearly salary into a lake and it still wasn't enough. He had uncovered massive amounts of rare and valuable platinum, but he threw it away because it wasn't yellow.

No, in Spain's mind, the only explanation for why Muisca could afford to throw away gold like it was trash was because he obviously had so much gold hidden away that a lake filled with gold offerings to a goddess was barely pocket change compared to the real hoard. Never once had Spain considered that the reason Muisca was a wealthy and powerful nation was because he used the barter system to great effect and was able to import large quantities of gold specifically for the purpose of jewelry and ceremonial trinkets, or the simple fact that Muisca didn't assign the same value to gold that Spain did.

It really was a living example on the destructive nature of fanatical greed and imperialistic delusion.

Colombia still had a good laugh whenever some foolish nation or human came to her place asking about El Dorado. She was quick to set the record straight, though some were less easily dissuaded than others. Spain and England both still insisted that they just hadn't been looking in the right place – England, in a more recent search, even got in huge trouble with Brazil for illegal excavations a few decades ago.

But people, and nations, would continue on as they always had. If someone decided that El Dorado must really be in Guyana, or Brazil, or Mexico, or underneath Mount Rushmore in the U.S., nothing would dissuade that person from searching until they ended up bankrupt or dead.

That was the true power of greed.

Author's Note: Yep, El Dorado is pure wishful-thinking because Spain got greedy and basically pwned himself while England just made the situation worse. And I swear to God that all these acts of idiocy are real. I'm sorry, Spain, I don't mean to make fun of you, but you just make it so easy.

I am pretty sure every economist in history is mentally screaming at Spain's incredible short-sightedness in bringing back so much gold. Because, as anyone with even a basic understanding of economics knows, the more you have of something the less valuable it is. Spain sparked off inflation in his own national currency by bringing back all those tons of gold.

And the Spanish really did throw the super-rare, extremely valuable metal platinum into the sea because they thought it was worthless and wanted to stop people mixing it with gold to make 'cheap' counterfeit coins.

The Muisca are quite interesting. They were the most powerful indigenous nation in all of what is now Colombia. They had two rulers (the zipa in the south and the zaque in the north) who each inherited their title from their maternal uncle. The only time the title of zipa is known to have not passed from a zipa to the eldest son of his eldest sister is when Tisquesusa was succeeded by his brother as an act of defiance against the Spanish for murdering Tisquesusa.

The Muisca would inaugurate a new zipa by covering him in gold dust and having him jump into Lake Guatavita while gold votive offerings were tossed in for the goddess of the lake. The Muisca imported all their gold, but there was just so much of it that it wasn't particularly valuable to them except as decoration or ritual offerings.

So, the Spanish found a powerful kingdom (equal in power and culture to the Aztecs) in the jungle that had so much gold it was basically regarded in the same light as modeling clay, but less useful, and even covered their leaders in gold, but it legit wasn't El Dorado enough for them?!

Also, from what I've read, the Muisca did not place a great deal of value on female virginity. According to the sources I found, virginity was seen as a mark of ugliness. Can't be too sure of the validity of the information, though, but it would be interesting if it's accurate.

Fun fact: The Muisca word for youngest daughter is 'china,' so imagine how Colombia feels whenever she has to speak to China (especially when he starts talking about his 'foolish little brothers and sister' and Colombia is just standing there thinking, 'But aren't you the youngest girl?').

Catalonia is an autonomous region of Spain which has been making bids for independence from the country for ages. I headcanon that Spain set her to work 'civilizing' his colonies for him, but she just ended up making them all as stubborn as she is.

The reason why Sir Walter Raleigh was beheaded on the orders of King James I was because he sparked an international incident by sieging a Spanish fort in an attempt to get information for his El Dorado quest, which he embarked on after learning of a very spurious account by a man who did not exist who went on an expedition that it would have been impossible for him to have been on (though was likely based on a real man on a real expedition) and then just made up stuff about the name and location of the lost city of gold with literally no evidence for any of it. And he actually thought it was a valid excuse to kidnap a conquistador and go poking around in the jungle.

Also, there was a British expedition in the 1980s that got in trouble with Brazil for theft of antiquities during an expedition for El Dorado. And people have tried to drain Lake Guatavita only to meet with disaster.

Frankly, I think the real treasure should have been friendship. It is the greatest treasure of all.