A week had passed since the trial of the twenty Castilians, the echoes of their confessions and the crowd's roars still lingering in Tenochtitlan's plazas like the scent of copal after a rite. The city hummed with renewed purpose, the eagle-serpent flags waving proudly from every rooftop, markets bustling with tribute from absorbed altepetls, and the Templo Mayor's altars cleansed of the Fifth Sun's shadows. The sentenced Castilians toiled in the lake's muck under guard, their chains clinking as they dredged ore, a daily spectacle that reminded the Mexica of justice served. Ehecatl had spent the days overseeing the integration of Tlaxcalan trainees into the Yaoquizque Tlapixque, their motto "My honor is called loyalty" chanted in joint drills that blended Mexica ferocity with Tlaxcalan resilience.
That morning, as the sun climbed high over the lake's shimmering expanse, word arrived of the Tlaxcalan delegation's approach. Maxixcatzin at the head, his warriors in red-and-white feathered tilmatli riding with the pride of equals. Ehecatl met them at the city's gates, flanked by Cuauhtemoc and the Yaoquizque Tlapixque, their spiraled uniforms a whirlwind of black and white. The air carried the scent of dust from the road and blooming chinampas, commoners lining the paths to witness the former enemies now allies, murmurs of awe rippling through the crowd as the groups clasped forearms in greeting.
"Maxixcatzin." Ehecatl said, his voice resonant and warm, drawing the man in with that charismatic pull. "Welcome to Tenochtitlan as brothers. The Sixth Sun shines on our path."
Maxixcatzin nodded, his scarred face breaking into a grim smile as he dismounted. "Cihuacoatl, the winds carry us here. Let's carve the world as promised."
They proceeded to the tecpan's war room. A secluded chamber with walls etched in murals of warriors in battle, low tables spread with bark-paper maps of Cemenahuac's eastern coasts, he had requested for quetzal-feathered quills and ink to be made and ready for strategies. The Mexica nobility gathered alongside the Tlaxcalans, reed mats arranged in a circle for equality, gourd vessels of pulque passed to ease the air. Cuauhtemoc sat at one end, his turquoise tilmatli a symbol of authority, while Maxixcatzin took the other, his red mantle a banner of shared blood.
Ehecatl unrolled a central map, his finger tracing the eastern shores where Totonac and Huastec lands sprawled like untapped veins of tribute. "Brothers, the east awaits. The Totonacs are further weakened from Tochtli's raids, the Huastecs are rich in cotton, feathers, shellwork, and women. They may not have cacao, but they have things we can't ignore, and they're also divided. We pick them off one by one, absorb their strength into our Nahua fist."
The Tlaxcalans leaned in, one lord nodding.
"Our scouts report Totonac resentment and damage against Tochtli lingers. Strike Cempoala first, claim their ports for when we build our ships."
Cuauhtemoc added gravely. "Huastec temples hold sacred offerings and ceremonial wealth. The Cihuacoatl is right that they do indeed have feathers, and shells. They do have some copper as well that could be worth taking under the alliance banner."
Ehecatl smiled as consensus built, then leaned forward. "I've sent word to Tochtli, our beast in the east. He's to retreat from the eastern lands and head further south, wreaking havoc there to draw eyes away from our moves."
Maxixcatzin's eyes gleamed with approval. "Clever, the shadows serve the light." The room filled with murmurs of agreement, the Mexica and Tlaxcalans plotting as one, the eastern conquests a first step in carving the world to their liking, the alliance's bond tested in blood and ambition.
Ehecatl then leaned over the bark-paper map in the tecpan's war room, his finger tracing the eastern coasts where Totonac and Huastec lands lay like untapped veins of tribute, the air thick with the scent of copal and the low murmurs of the assembled lords.
"Let's talk numbers and logistics." Ehecatl said, his voice resonant and commanding, drawing them in like a strategist unveiling fate. "Since retaking the city I've reformed the Mexica and those under us using a new model of military discipline, merit-based like the old ways but honed for efficiency, rapid marches, and universal training. We've got a small but elite force of 2,000 men fully trained in this style, arquebuses rifled for accuracy, grenades for devastation. A few thousand more fight in the old ways, fierce but unrefined."
Maxixcatzin nodded, his scarred hands splayed on the map like battle plans. "Since the alliance began and our men started training under this new way they've adapted quickly. We have about 4,000 partially trained in the modern style, not yet elite but close, their volleys improving daily. Over 10,000 still wield the macuahuitl in the old ways, ready for the fray."
Cuetlachtli leaned forward, his voice hoarse with fanatic zeal. "All the elite in Huexotzinco are already folded into the Yaoquizque Tlapixque, sworn to the Cihuacoatl's vision. The rest still fight in the old ways as well. Blades and shields, hearts for the gods."
Cuauhmecatl echoed him, his bone mask rattling softly. "The same for Cholula's faithful, our best serve the guardians now, the others hold to ritual combat, spears blessed by Quetzalcoatl."
Ehecatl tapped the map, his expression firm. "The horses we all have will be used for logistics only, hauling supplies, scouts, messages. No combat mounts."
Pushback came immediately from all sides, Maxixcatzin's brow furrowing. "But the Castilians showed how effective horses are in charges, trampling lines like thunder from the gods."
Cuetlachtli nodded vigorously. "Aye, the shock alone breaks spirits."
Even Cuauhtemoc raised an eyebrow. "We can't ignore such an edge."
Ehecatl held up a hand, his tone unyielding. "I understand, but even in victory we risk losing riders and horses, precious resources. Logistics wins wars, our supplies reaching the front unbroken, messages flying swift will be a significant advantage over combat mounts. Save the mounts for that, and our foot warriors will handle the rest with formations and fire."
The room murmured in reluctant agreement, the logic sinking in like rain on parched earth. Ehecatl continued, dividing the map with charcoal lines.
"The army should be split in three. Tier 1 filled with the elite of the Mexica, Yaoquizque Tlapixque, and the 4,000 partially trained Tlaxcalans as our spearhead, striking with precision. Tier 2 a mix of those still under training, building experience in the fray. Tier 3 will be filled with the old-school warriors for auxiliary, swarming flanks and holding ground."
Maxixcatzin pounded his fist lightly on the table in approval. "A wise structure, Cihuacoatl. The old and new as one fist." The lords leaned in, strategies flowing as the eastern conquests took shape, the alliance's bond tested in the war room's sacred fire.
Ehecatl traced the eastern coasts on the bark-paper map once more, his finger lingering on the Totonac heartlands as the war room's copal smoke curled lazily around the assembled lords. The reed mats creaked under shifting weight, the air thick with the scent of pulque and ambition. Cuauhtemoc sat silent, his turquoise tilmatli a steady presence, while Maxixcatzin leaned forward, his scarred hands splayed like roots gripping the earth. Cuetlachtli and Cuauhmecatl flanked them, their fanatic eyes reflecting the torchlight like embers.
"Then came the topic of what happens after the war." Ehecatl said, his voice shifting to a pragmatic tone, eyes meeting Maxixcatzin's with that charismatic assurance. "The loot and such. Maxixcatzin, let your Tlaxcalans know they'll have free rein to strip any value of wealth from the conquered. Shells, any cacao that they have stored, feathers, all exclusive to you and your people as reward for your blades in the fray."
Maxixcatzin nodded with a grim smile, his fist thumping the table softly in approval. "Generous, Cihuacoatl. Our warriors will fight fiercer knowing the spoils are ours." Cuauhtemoc glanced at Ehecatl questioningly, his brow furrowing slightly at the concession, but he held off for now, his turquoise tilmatli shifting as he leaned back to listen.
Ehecatl continued, his gaze sweeping the circle. "The lands themselves will fall under Mexica control, a foundation for our shared empire. But to incentivize our men to excel, I propose this: a well-established soldier, noble, or loyalist will be granted the right to collect tribute from a designated group of the conquered, becoming a lord and tribute-collector in one. What we'll call a 'Tecuhtli Calpixqui.' (Noble Tribute Collector) They'll provide food and housing for the conquered, protect them from harm. No unchecked cruelty, or the alliance frays."
The lords murmured, Cuetlachtli's fanatic voice rising first. "Wise. A blade with a hilt, control with reward."
Ehecatl nodded. "They aren't to own the land itself, but extract labor from the inhabitants. Farming, crafting, building for the empire's growth. The pipiltin in Tenochtitlan will oversee the Tecuhtli Calpixqui to ensure things run smoothly, no corruption unchecked."
Cuauhmecatl added thoughtfully, his bone mask rattling softly. "And the underworld? Shadows breed vice if left unattended. We've seen what happened right after you've reclaimed the city. The land was in chaos with fellow warlords like myself and Cuetlachtli here, running amok."
Ehecatl smiled, leaning forward. "The Yaoquizque Tlapixque will oversee and control the underworld side of things, in charge of prostitution, gambling, slavery, policing, all of it. That way there's additional income flowing to Tenochtitlan, regulated and taxed for the alliance's coffers."
The room filled with nods of agreement, the plan weaving the conquest's fruits into a structured web, the Mexica and Tlaxcalans bound tighter in shared ambition.
Ehecatl tapped the eastern edges of the bark-paper map a final time. His finger lingering on the Totonac heartlands as the war room's copal smoke curled lazily around the assembled lords, the reed mats creaking under shifting weight.
"The final topic at hand," Ehecatl said, his voice shifting to a grave tone that commanded attention, "is the justification for war on the eastern lands. It shouldn't take much to agree on the cause. The Totonacs and Huastecs broke free from Mexica tribute during the chaos, and the Totonacs were heavily explicit in helping the Castilians. After all the Totonacs were the first to ally with Cortes and the ones who informed him about the hatred between us Mexica and Tlaxcalteca. Their betrayal demands reckoning, resources like cacao and feathers are too vital to leave in disloyal hands."
Nods rippled around the circle, Maxixcatzin's fist thumping the table softly in agreement. "Indeed the Totonacs do possess Cacaos and feathers, just don't forget about their ports, Cihuacoatl. They control the lifeblood of ritual and trade. That cannot be left to those who aided the bearded dogs against us all."
And just as everyone was in agreement, tension flared once more as Ehecatl outlined the approach.
"I have no intentions of sending Tequihua Tlatoque (warrior speakers) to formally declare war and give them time to prepare. We attack and catch them off guard, strike swift and decisive."
The room erupted in back and forth talks, Cuauhtemoc's brow furrowing first. "Without declaration? That's not our way, the gods honor the formal challenge."
Cuetlachtli's fanatic voice rose next. "The old rites demand it, give the enemy time to prepare souls for the flower wars!"
Maxixcatzin leaned in, his scarred hands splayed on the map. "Tlaxcala agrees, surprise dishonors the battle, weakens the glory."
Cuauhmecatl nodded solemnly, his bone mask rattling. "Quetzalcoatl favors wisdom, but tradition binds us, a warning ensures the gods' favor."
Ehecatl let them finish talking, and then started giving his reasons for this.
"I understand the old ways, brothers, but we really can't afford to fight an 'honorable' war now. The Michhuaque press from the west, our forces are still rebuilding, and our resources stretch thin. A formal declaration gives them time to fortify, ally with remnants, turn conquest into siege, this could even give the Michhuaque reason to attack with our backs facing them. Pragmatism wins wars in this Sixth Sun, strike hard, strike fast and end it quick, secure the east before the west boils over. Honor comes in victory, not in warnings that cost lives."
The debate simmered, voices clashing like fists in sparring, elders invoking ancestors' codes while youth weighed the logic. In the end Ehecatl's pragmatism convinced them, the room nodding in reluctant agreement as strategies shifted to surprise assaults, the alliance's bond tested but strengthened in the war room's sacred fire.
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Cuauhtemoc pulled Ehecatl aside as the war room emptied, the assembled lords dispersing with murmurs of strategy and anticipation echoing off the tecpan's muraled walls. The air still hung heavy with copal smoke, the low table scattered with bark-paper maps and half-empty gourd vessels of pulque. The Huey Tlatoani's turquoise tilmatli shifted as he turned to his Cihuacoatl, his expression a mix of approval and concern, eyes sharp under the torchlight.
"Ehecatl." Cuauhtemoc said, his voice low and measured, grasping his forearm in a warrior's hold. "I don't condone the sudden assault without declaration; it's a break from our ways. But I understand the pragmatism, the need to strike swift. What I don't grasp is why you're letting the Tlaxcalans loot the wealth of the Totonacs and Huastecs while we keep the ruins. Yes, I heard your words on extra income from the Tlatecuhtli Calpixqui, but wasn't 'This Thing Of Ours' meant to make them dependent? To me it sounds like the opposite, handing them riches while we rebuild from scraps."
Ehecatl met his gaze steadily, his charismatic smile curling with that knowing edge as he leaned in closer, his voice resonant and confiding, drawing the tlatoani into the scheme like a shared secret. "You're right to question it, Huey Tlatoani. It's all about giving up short-term gain for long-term dominance. Yes, the immediate looting will make Tlaxcala rich for a season, feathers and cacao flowing into their hands like a sudden rain. They'll live lavishly, feast and indulge, but that's the trap. They won't build, won't invest in forges or chinampas, won't turn wealth into lasting power. We'll rebuild the eastern lands in our image, extract the true value, resources like cotton fields and harbors feeding back into Tenochtitlan's heart, growing our strength with each harvest."
He paused, his hand gesturing to an imaginary horizon. "The Tlaxcalans will crave more wars for more loot, dependent on us to lead the conquests, to share the glory while we control the core. In short, we have longevity, the Mexica will be here for a long time; the Tlaxcalans will only be here for a good time. 'This Thing Of Ours' binds them close, makes them feel equal, but in truth it turns their ambition into our engine. We'll conquer as one, but the empire's core remains ours."
Cuauhtemoc's brow smoothed, a slow nod of understanding crossing his face as he clasped Ehecatl's shoulder. "Intelligent as the feathered serpent himself. Lead on, Cihuacoatl. The Sixth Sun rises under your vision." The two shared a firm grip, the alliance's depths clear between them, the war room's embers flickering like the empire's unquenchable fire.
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Once done with his talk with Cuauhtemoc. He stepped Outside, and spotted Cuetlachtli drilling a squad of Yaoquizque Tlapixque in the plaza, their spiraled uniforms whirling like storms as swords clashed. Ehecatl approached, his presence halting the session mid-swing, Cuetlachtli bowing deeply with fanatic reverence. "Ripener of souls, command us."
Ehecatl clasped his forearm, his voice firm and charismatic. "Cuetlachtli, scout out any Yaoquizque Tlapixque good with numbers and picture-glyph writing. For the underworld control we'll oversee prostitution, gambling, slavery, policing, etc. They need a division so we're not stretched thin, the right men handling logistics, paperwork, tribute flows."
Cuetlachtli nodded sharply, his eyes gleaming. "It will be done, Ehecatlzin. Strength in order."
Ehecatl continued. "Contact Chimalli too, have him collaborate. His pochteca networks understand the shadows, the trades that lurk beneath. This new branch will be called 'Yaoquizque Tequitiliztli'(Tribute-Labor Of The Guardians). Forge it strong."
Cuetlachtli pounded his fist to his chest. "Loyalty demands it." He turned to his men, barking orders as Ehecatl departed, the empire's underworld taking shape in the plaza's dust.
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Ehecatl strode home through the bustling streets of Tenochtitlan, the midday sun casting golden hues over the canals and blooming chinampas, the air alive with vendors' calls and the distant chants from temples. The eagle-serpent flags waved proudly from rooftops, a symbol of the city's unyielding spirit. As he entered his courtyard, the space felt unusually quiet, the reed awnings fluttering softly in the breeze, the scent of herbs from Xochiquetzal's mixtures lingering faintly. Malinalli, Catalina, and Xochiquetzal were out, perhaps at the market or tending to errands, leaving the home in peaceful solitude.
Only Tecuelhuetzin remained, lounging on a reed mat in the see-through huipil that Ehecatl adored, the mesh fabric clinging transparently to her full breasts and hips, her dark nipples faintly visible through the weave, the red-diamond patterns swirling like invitations across her skin. She rose gracefully as he approached, her long black hair cascading freely, her expression a mix of loving devotion and cute submissiveness, her voice soft and playful as she stepped close, pressing her body against his with a teasing sway. "My lord… did you do what I recommended? Giving my people those exclusive looting rights in the war?"
Ehecatl pulled her in by the waist, his hand sliding down to grip her ass firmly, drawing a soft gasp from her lips as he leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear. "I did, my love. They bought it completely." Her submissive smile widened, her hands tracing his chest as she whispered cutely, "Good boy… now let me reward you." The words ignited him, and he captured her mouth in a fierce kiss, tongues tangling hungrily as he ripped the huipil from her chest with a tear, exposing her full breasts to the warm air.
He lifted her onto the low table in countertop dominance, spreading her legs wide as he thrust into her with commanding force, her body rocking with each deep drive, slaps on her ass echoing as she begged, "Degrade me master… call me your sex slave."
"You Tlaxcalan sex slave," he obliged, choking her lightly with one hand as the other pulled her hair, her submission complete in the degradation, her walls clenching in ecstasy. They shifted to spooning on the mats, his arm around her neck in a rough choke as he entered from behind, thrusting slow and deep, whispering humiliations: "You're nothing but my warm and wet hole now." That made her sob with pleasure, her body trembling in release.
The night escalated: happy scissors with legs intertwined, her grinding against him in scissoring bliss as he called her a "cheap and broken prize." her climax shattering with cries; lap dance on a cushion, her riding him with teasing circles as he slapped her face roughly, her moans turning to begs; he groped her breasts and ass roughly, fingers pinching nipples until she whimpered, leading to anal where he drilled from behind in doggy, her ass rippling with each thrust, hair pulled as she swallowed his spit during a messy kiss, choking her throat hard as she gasped, "Humiliate me more… I'm your slave."
The release came in waves, her shattering multiple times, convulsing around him with sobs of ecstasy, her trauma turning to cathartic bliss; his following, spilling deep inside her anus with a groan. Sated, they collapsed, her head on his chest.
Ehecatl lay sated in the alcove's dim glow, the reed mats soft beneath them, the air thick with the musk of their sweat and sex. Tecuelhuetzin's naked body pressed against his, her full breasts heaving with ragged breaths as he played with her idly. His fingers tracing lazy circles around her hardened nipples, pinching them lightly to draw soft whimpers from her lips, his other hand gripping her ass firmly, kneading the soft flesh with possessive squeezes that made her arch into him. Her ripped huipil lay torn on the floor, a casualty of their frenzy, her dark hair splayed like a midnight river across the cushions, her thighs and ass still slick from their release.
He thought to himself, internally smug as he rolled her nipple between his fingers, eliciting another moan. For a guy like him who once lived in the 21st century where sexualization was common, Tecuelhuetzin's seduction attempts were very easy to spot. Still he got a good fuck out of it, enjoyed the role-play of being her slave master. In the end everyone is happy. He got top tier pussy, and she sucks on his dick as if that mouth was the ultimate gawk gawk 3000, she's happy and convinced she got her people a better opportunity, and her people are happy knowing they'd get some riches. Of course he was already going to give something to the Tlaxcalans to keep them content, but hey this also makes it worth it.
He pulled her closer, his hand slipping between her thighs to tease her folds once more, her body responding with a shiver as she whispered submissively, "More, my lord… command me." The alliance felt even sweeter in that moment, her submission a delicious bonus to the day's victories.
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The day after leaving her limp and sated from their rough indulgence, Ehecatl and Tecuelhuetzin rose in the alcove's soft morning light, the air still thick with the musk of their sweat and the faint herbal oils from her skin. She stirred slowly, her body aching deliciously from his dominance, her striped huipil discarded in a heap on the floor, her curves glowing in the dawn's golden hue as she stretched with a soft moan. Ehecatl watched her with a smug grin, his hand tracing her hip lazily before they dressed. She put on a fresh huipil that clung to her full breasts and hips like a second skin, he in his noble tilmatli flowing in cochineal red embroidered with quetzal feathers. They had left their home to go join the Tlaxcalan envoys for breakfast in the tecpan's courtyard, the table laden with tlaxcalli, quail tamales, and pulque, the air crisp with blooming chinampas and distant chants from the pyramid.
Maxixcatzin sat across from them, his scarred face softening as he leaned toward Tecuelhuetzin, his voice gravelly but warm amid the murmurs of his men. "Tecuelhuetzin, how have you been? Has Ehecatl mistreated you? Do you feel welcomed here, in this… new path?"
She shrugged it off with a subtle smile, her hand resting on Ehecatl's thigh under the table, her voice steady and light. "I've been well, Maxixcatzin. Ehecatl is better than Pedro. He's lustful, perverted, and horny like any man, but it's not the worst I expected from a Mexica, and certainly better than a Castilian."
Maxixcatzin nodded thoughtfully, his eyes flicking to Ehecatl with a hint of respect before returning to her. "And children? Could there be little ones on the way to seal this bond further?"
She waved that off casually, taking a sip of pulque, her expression relaxed. "I'm not keen on being a mother right now. I like where I'm at, this freedom I have, the minimum responsibilities I have before the weight of children."
She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "This upcoming war is just stretching our limbs, Maxixcatzin. The Michhuaque will be the true warm-up. Ehecatl's eyes are set further. Taking the fight to the Castilians in those distant islands, across the great sea."
As Maxixcatzin absorbed her words, her gaze wandered across the courtyard, catching a rival lord from her late brother's faction. The man who'd voted to execute him for rebelling against the Castilians. Speaking warmly to Ehecatl, their laughter echoing softly. Political anxiety knotted in her chest, was Ehecatl already plotting to replace her lineage with another's? Elevating rivals to secure his grip? Personal insecurity twisted deeper, her mind flashing to their night's passion. Was it genuine desire or just a political fuck, her body a tool like with Alvarado? But the thoughts ignited a long-term motivation, lighting a fire under her to solidify her standing, not by betraying Ehecatl but by sharpening her edge. Whispering schemes in his ear, using her curves and cunning to become indispensable in this Sixth Sun's weave.
She turned back to Maxixcatzin with a determined smile. Completely unaware of what he was saying to her, but nonetheless she just said "I'm positive we'll make sure Tlaxcala lead alongside my love and his people, one way or another." The breakfast continued amid plans and toasts, the alliance's bonds tightening in the morning light.
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The next few days after that were full on grind and locked in mode. The Mexica went on a public press presentation in the main plaza, the air buzzing with anticipation as commoners, nobles, and warriors gathered under the shadow of the Templo Mayor, the eagle-serpent flags waving proudly in the breeze. Scribes with bark-paper banners announced the declaration, their voices amplified by runners echoing through the crowd. "People of Tenochtitlan," Ehecatl proclaimed from the steps, his noble tilmatli flowing in cochineal red, his charismatic voice drawing them in like a storyteller unveiling destiny. "We march to war against the Totonacs and Huastecs. The Totonacs caused our pain and suffering during the war, the siege, and occupation. It was Xicomecoatl and his kin who told Cortes of our ways, our feud with the Tlaxcalans, and more, betraying the empire for the Caxtilteca, whom would've just absorbed the Totonacs into their own empire. For the Huastecs, we bring them back into the empire's fold, their riches and lands ours once more. Under the Fifth Sun, the Tlaxcalans were our worst enemies, but under the Sixth Sun they aren't; outsiders exploited them, but that ends now. They stand as allies, brothers forged in shared blood."
The crowd roared in approval, fists raised as memories of the Castilian horrors fueled their rage, the plaza a sea of cotton tilmatli and feathered headdresses, the scent of copal mingling with the lake's fresh breeze. Priests chanted blessings for victory, while families whispered of justice long overdue.
Meanwhile at the same time over in Tlaxcala, their leaders gathered the people in Tizatlan's central plaza, the air thick with the scent of pine torches and maize roasting on comals as commoners and warriors pressed close. Maxixcatzin stood tall on a raised platform, his red mantle a banner of pride, his voice gravelly and commanding. "Tlaxcalteca, we ride to war with the Mexica against the Totonacs and Huastecs. Our goals are loot and riches, which will all be exclusive to us only. The Cihuacoatl of the Mexica himself gave his word, and so far he has proven to be a man of his word. Our secondary objective is revenge on the Totonacs, for the losses they cost us even if minimal, their betrayal of aiding the Castilians against the Mexica has cost us more lives than when we were in bad terms with the Mexica. Under the Sixth Sun, the Mexica are no longer enemies but allies, brothers and equals, sharing the path to conquest."
The crowd cheered, fists pounding shields as the promise of wealth ignited their spirits, the plaza alive with the clatter of macuahuitls and the scent of sweat and fire, families nodding in hope for a future unbound by old feuds. Priests invoked Camaxtli for strength, the alliance a new dawn for Tlaxcala's long-encircled people.
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Two weeks had passed since each side of "This Thing Of Ours" announced their intentions to their own people. The Mexica had fully armed with rifled arquebuses slung over shoulders, grenades bulging at belts, steel-edged macuahuitls and swords at their sides, deployed to Cholula in a disciplined march that thundered through the valleys like the heartbeat of the empire. They met up with the Tlaxcalans and their army, a sea of red-and-white feathered tilmatli blending with the Mexica's eagle-serpent banners, as well as the other fighters from Cholula and Huexotzinco, their ranks swelling the sacred city's wards with the scent of sweat-soaked cotton and oiled steel.
Tecuelhuetzin naturally accompanied Ehecatl since she was the bridge between the Mexica and Tlaxcalans, riding at his side in her striped huipil that caught the wind like a flag of unity, her dark hair flowing freely as she exchanged nods with her kin. Cuauhtemoc was there as well to lead the charge when the war started, his turquoise tilmatli and diadem a symbol of command amid the assembled lords, his presence steadying the ranks like an anchor in stormy waters.
The combined army gathered in Cholula's main plaza under the shadow of the Great Pyramid, its massive tiers a divine sentinel watching over the sea of warriors, the air thick with the dust of marching feet and the chants of priests invoking Quetzalcoatl's favor. Banners fluttered in the breeze, eagle-serpent beside Tlaxcalan eagles, a tapestry of former enemies now forged as one. Ehecatl stood on a raised platform at the pyramid's base, flanked by Cuauhtemoc and Maxixcatzin, his noble tilmatli flowing in cochineal red as he prepared to address the troops, his voice about to ignite their spirits.
Ehecatl yelled, "Can you count, suckers? I say, the future is ours… if you can count!" A couple of soldiers cheered for Ehecatl. "Now, look what we have here before us. You got the Tlaxcalteca standing next to the Mexica. We've got the Huexotzinco soldiers right by the Cholulan ones. Nobody is wasting nobody. That… is a miracle. And miracles is the way things ought to be." A few more soldiers cheered for him. "You're standing right now with newly trained officers from the Tier one group. And there's going to be more. That's 8,000 hardcore fully trained and elite soldiers in the new way. Eight-thousand, counting auxiliaries still fighting in the old ways, and that's twenty-thousand more, not up to new standards, but no less ready to fight: 28,000 soldiers! Now, there isn't that much fully motivated, trained and hungry Totonacs and Huastecas in the whole of Cemenahuac. Can you dig it?" Soldiers shouted "Yeah!" "Can you dig it? CAN YOU DIG IT?!" The army roared in unison, fists pumping the air.
"Now, here's the sum total: One power could run the whole land! One power. Nothing would move without us allowing it to happen. We could tax the outsider pochteca, the warriors from altepetls who aren't Nahua, because WE got the power, suckers! Can you dig it? The problem in the past has been outsiders turning us against one another. We have been unable to see the truth, because we have fighting for measly feet of ground, our turf, our little piece of turf. That's crap, brothers! The turf is ours by right, because it's our turn. All we have to do is keep up the general truce and alliance. We take over one altepetl at a time. Secure our territory… secure our turf… because it's all our turf!"
The army erupted in cheers, macuahuitls clashing against shields, the sound thundering through the plaza like the gods' approval, the combined forces of Mexica, Tlaxcalteca, Cholulans, and Huexotzinco forged into one unyielding fist, ready to carve the east under the Sixth Sun's banner. Meanwhile Ehecatl has this smug duper's delight smile, knowing damn well he took this speech from Cyrus in "The Warriors" movie. Oh well, it's not like the movie will ever be made in this new world.
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After the speech ignited the army's spirit with roars and cheers echoing through Cholula's plaza like thunder from the gods, praises rained down from the ranks. Warriors pounding shields in approval, lords clasping forearms with fervent nods, the combined forces of Mexica, Tlaxcalteca, Cholulans, and Huexotzinco buzzing with the fire of unity.
Ehecatl and Tecuelhuetzin swiftly headed back to Tenochtitlan, the Cihuacoatl's role demanding he take charge of the city while the Huey Tlatoani led the charge in battle. The ride was brisk, the road winding through valleys alive with the scent of maguey and distant smoke from village hearths, Tecuelhuetzin riding close, her striped huipil fluttering in the wind as they discussed the war's horizon.
Upon arriving home, Ehecatl dove into preparations to temporarily move the household to the tecpan, the palace's grandeur better suited for leading the city in Cuauhtemoc's absence. Servants bustled with bundles of reed mats and herb pouches, the air filled with the familiar hum of activity. While he oversaw the packing, Tecuelhuetzin gathered the women in the courtyard. Catalina was helping folding Ehecatl's clothes with her gentle care, Malinalli lounging on a cushion fanning her swelling belly while watching everyone else do the work, Xochiquetzal pausing her gathering of her herbs to listen.
Tecuelhuetzin's voice carried with poised confidence as she described the army's might and Ehecatl's speech, the words of unity and conquest painting a vivid picture of the assembled forces ready to carve the east.
Catalina's gentle face lit with hope, her hand resting on her belly as she smiled softly, her thoughts swirling with relief for a future where alliances meant peace rather than chains. "It's beautiful," she said, her voice warm and earnest, "enemies becoming brothers. If it ends the horrors I saw, perhaps our children will know only unity." Deep down she marveled at Ehecatl's vision, seeing it as a bridge from her Castilian past to this new Nahua world, her comment a quiet prayer for stability.
Malinalli's smirk curled as she leaned back, her eyes gleaming with scheming approval, her mind calculating how this power shift opened doors for influence and vengeance. "Clever boy," she murmured, her voice laced with amusement, "turning old knives into plowshares. But equals? Hah, they'll learn soon enough who's holding the reins." Internally she admired the manipulation, seeing echoes of her own survival tactics in Ehecatl's words, her comment a veiled nod to the long game.
Xochiquetzal's eyes widened in quiet awe, her hands still dusted with herb pollen as she clutched her huipil, her thoughts turning to healing the wounds of division rather than battle's scars. "So many together," she whispered, her voice soft and wondrous, "like roots intertwining under the earth. If it means no more raids, perhaps the herbs can mend spirits instead of bodies." Deep within she felt a spark of hope for her own fractured family, her comment a healer's dream of renewal amid the talk of conquest.