The valley was secure, its altepetls bound by tribute, hostages, and the unyielding shadow of the eagle-serpent flag. Tenochtitlan's recovery had accelerated beyond even Ehecatl's most optimistic cheat projections—markets overflowed with maize from Chalco, salt from Mixquic seasoning feasts, and stoneworkers from Teotihuacan patching temples with fresh lime.
The "tribute marriages" from Texcoco had already begun yielding fruit, with Mexica households swelling with new youths to be born into the empire, a deliberate demographic tide washing away the scars of siege. But Ehecatl knew stagnation was death. The empire's heart beat strong, but its gaze now turned outward, to the fractured lands beyond where warlords prowled like jaguars in the mist.
In his private alcove within the palace, Ehecatl sat cross-legged before a spread of bark-paper maps and ledgers, the air thick with the scent of copal and charcoal dust. Torchlight flickered over the sketches of warlord territories. Huexotzinco under Cuetlachtli's fanatic grip, Cholula bowed to Cuauhmecatl's zealotry, the swamps alive with Cihuatecuhtli Ayauh's vengeful sisterhood, Chimalli's trade caravans snaking like veins, and Tochtli's coastal horrors staining the sands red. His mind whirred, the cheat pulsing with simulations.
"Prioritize absorbs for the faithful," he murmured to himself. "Cuetlachtli and Cuauhmecatl first—low risk, high yield. Lure the 50/50s with tailored bait: feminism for Ayauh, capitalism for Chimalli. Use Tochtli as a proxy terror, then eliminate. Numbers don't lie—absorptions net 4k laborers, eliminations clear the board without martyrs."
The council had debated fiercely that morning, Cuauhtemoc's priests clamoring for purges ("Burn the heretics! Their madness mocks the gods!"), Yaotl pushing for swift strikes ("Eliminate Tochtli now—his sadism breeds enemies!"). But Ehecatl had steered them toward balance: "Absorb the believers to swell our ranks without blood. Flip the fence-sitters with promises they can't refuse. Exploit the beast, then discard him. We divide to conquer, and turn the land's chaos into our order."
Now, the first move was Cuetlachtli. After weeks of back-and-forth trades of powder for cacao, grenades for jade. Ehecatl had extended the invitation. "Come to the city," his envoys had said. "The Cihuacoatl wishes to honor your vision." The fanatic had bitten, arriving with a small band of his raiders, their macuahuitls sheathed but eyes wild with anticipation.
Cuetlachtli stepped through the gates of Tenochtitlan, his scarred face twisting in disbelief as the city unfolded before him. Months ago, he had been one of the Huexotzinco warriors storming these streets, helping the Castilians and Tlaxcalans tear down temples and loot markets in the frenzy of conquest. He remembered the flames licking the pyramids, the screams of the fallen, the Mexica crumbling like dry maize husks. Yet now… the ruins bloomed. Streets bustled with vendors hawking feathers from Chalco and gourd bowls from Coyoacan, masons hauled stone from Teotihuacan under the watchful eyes of Texcoco laborers in chains, their sweat a forced atonement.
Children laughed in plazas, reciting pledges with hands on hearts, while women in huipils balanced baskets of amaranth, their bellies swelling with the fruits of "tribute marriages."
And the flags—gods, the flags. They waved from every rooftop, pyramid summit, and market stall of green, white, and red fields bearing the golden-brown eagle devouring the serpent on its cactus perch. The symbol pulsed like a heartbeat, repeated so relentlessly it seemed to etch itself into his vision.
"This… this is rebirth," Cuetlachtli muttered, his voice hoarse with awe. His raiders exchanged glances, their filth-laced blades suddenly feeling crude against the city's ordered vitality. "The boy did this. He ripened their fear into strength."
Escorted by Mexica guards, warriors in padded ichcahuipilli armor, now reinforced with looted Castilian iron plates. They were led not to the palace, but to Ehecatl's expanded adobe home. The structure was modest yet commanding, its courtyard blooming with chinampa flowers, a subtle nod to the empire's reclaimed life. As they entered, Cuetlachtli's eyes widened further. There, lounging on reed mats, were two women. One pale and devoted, her Castilian features softened by pregnancy, the other sharp-eyed and smirking, her native beauty laced with venom, her belly similarly swollen.
Catalina looked up first, her eyes downcast in quiet submission as she folded mantas, whispering "My lord awaits" in broken Nahuatl. Malinalli snorted, her hand circling her belly protectively, her gaze raking over Cuetlachtli like a macuahuitl edge. "Another admirer? The boy collects them like trophies."
Before Cuetlachtli could respond, Ehecatl emerged from an inner chamber, his presence commanding despite his plain tilmatli. The fanatic dropped to one knee, his raiders following suit, murmuring "The ripener of souls… the boy who broke the unbreakable."
Ehecatl waved them up with a charismatic smile, his voice warm yet laced with authority, drawing them in like a storyteller at a feast.
"Rise, Cuetlachtli. I'm glad someone like you views me highly. Your raids have echoed my tactics, turning fear into harvest. But let's be clear, I didn't invite you here to lecture. Some of what you've done strays from my path, but that's not why you're here."
He gestured to seats around a low table laden with pulque and tlaxcalli, his eyes meeting Cuetlachtli's with genuine intensity.
"You've carved Huexotzinco and its surrounds into your domain, a feat worthy of legends. I extend my hand to you to join this empire, keep your control over Huexotzinco, and become part of something greater."
Cuetlachtli's breath caught, his scarred face flushing with zeal.
"Join… as what? A vassal?"
Ehecatl leaned forward, his tone shifting to passionate fire, painting a vision that stirred the fanatic's soul.
"Not a vassal, but a leader in a new order. I envision the Yaoquizque Tlapixque—'Guardian Warriors'—as the most advanced, ferocious unit in all Cemenahuac. For now, they'll serve as my bodyguards, elite and unyielding. But soon… something more. Greater than the eagle, jaguar, and shorn ones warriors. And I'd like you as my number two, commanding them under me."
He paused, letting the words sink in, then described the uniform with vivid detail, drawing from the ancient codices and warrior traditions.
"Their garb will build on the Tlacochcalcatl-class elite—the cuextecatl style, known for ferocity and individuality. But we'll elevate it with the existing black and white suits with spiraling motifs on the shields and dotted patterns across the body, like stars in the night sky or spots on a jaguar's hide. The spirals evoke the whirlwind of battle, the dots the uncountable souls we've ripened. Helmets crested with Huaxtec cones or eagle feathers, painted black for shadow-stalking, white for the purity of our cause. Padded ichcahuipilli reinforced with iron from our forges, macuahuitls edged with stolen steel. You'll wear it first, Cuetlachtli as a symbol of this new era."
Cuetlachtli's eyes gleamed, the vision igniting his fanaticism. "Guardian Warriors… under your banner? I… I accept. For the ripener, for the empire reborn."
Ehecatl clasped his forearm, sealing the deal with a nod. Malinalli smirked from the side, murmuring, "Another beast tamed," while Catalina watched in silent devotion. The absorption had begun, Huexotzinco's raiders would soon march under the eagle-serpent, their fanaticism fuel for the conquests ahead.
…
…
…
As Cuetlachtli and his raiders departed the courtyard, their footsteps fading into the bustling streets of Tenochtitlan, Ehecatl lingered for a moment, watching the fanatic's back disappear through the gate. The air still hummed with the weight of the agreement, the promise of a new warrior order sealed in words and visions. He turned to one of his guards, a stoic Mexica warrior in padded ichcahuipilli, his sword slung at his side.
"Send word to Cuauhmecatl," Ehecatl said, his voice steady and low. "Invite him to the city. Tell him the avatar of Quetzalcoatl seeks his counsel—and offers him a place in the empire's divine renewal."
The man bowed sharply, fist to chest. "It will be done, Cihuacoatl." He strode out without another word, leaving Ehecatl alone in the courtyard with the two women who had become the anchors of his personal world.
Malinalli shifted on her reed mat, her huipil stretched taut over her swelling belly, one hand absently tracing the curve as she fixed Ehecatl with a sharp, questioning gaze. Catalina sat nearby, her pale hands folded in her lap, her own pregnancy a gentle swell under her shift, her eyes darting between them with that quiet, devoted caution. The afternoon sun filtered through the blooming chinampa vines, casting dappled shadows that danced across their faces, but the air felt heavier now, charged with Malinalli's unspoken barbs.
"Why the hell were you acting so charismatic for?" Malinalli asked, her voice laced with that familiar toxicity, a mix of mockery and genuine curiosity. She leaned forward slightly, her dark eyes narrowing. "That kid, Cuetlachtli—he's unhinged. Worships you like some godling risen from the rubble. Weren't you disturbed by him? The way he looked at you, like he'd carve out his own heart if you asked? And now you're rewarding him with power?"
Ehecatl sat between them, his plain tilmatli settling around him as he leaned back against a stone pillar. He met Malinalli's gaze evenly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, charismatic even now, though tempered for her. Catalina shifted closer to him instinctively, her hand brushing his arm in silent support, her devotion a soft counterpoint to Malinalli's fire.
"Disturbed?" Ehecatl echoed, his tone thoughtful but unyielding. "Maybe a little, at first. Fanatics like him are double-edged blades that are sharp enough to cut deep, but they can turn on you if the zeal fades. But that's why I reined him in. Better to harness it than let it run wild. He's from Huexotzinco, already carving out a chunk of land in our name without even knowing it. Absorbing him means we get his raiders, his territory, and his loyalty without spilling a drop of Mexica blood. It's efficient."
Malinalli snorted, her hand still on her belly, rubbing it in slow circles as if to remind him of the life they shared. "Efficient. Always the cold calculator. And what about this 'Yaoquizque Tlapixque' you dangled in front of him? Sounded like more than just a bodyguard unit. What's the play there, boy?"
Ehecatl glanced at Catalina, who nodded subtly, her eyes wide with quiet admiration, before turning back to Malinalli. He spoke with that same charismatic warmth he'd used on Cuetlachtli, but laced with the raw honesty he reserved for them, his prizes, his anchors in this brutal rebirth.
"The Yaoquizque Tlapixque—Guardian Warriors," he said, his voice dropping to a passionate murmur, painting the vision as if it were already etched in stone. "They'll be just as fierce in battle as the Mexica have always been known for. Ferocious, individual, elite like the old Tlacochcalcatl or cuextecatl ranks. But we'll make them greater. They'll wield swords looted from the Castilians, grenades that shatter lines like thunder, arquebuses spitting fire, cannons thundering from our lines, horses charging under our banners. And one day… ships like the ones the Caxtilteca came in on, sailing our coasts, carrying our warriors across waters we've never touched."
He paused, his eyes gleaming with the cheat's foresight, the modern knowledge fueling the dream. "For now, they're my bodyguards—elite protection. But soon, they'll be the spearhead of something more. An order that doesn't just fight flower wars or defend the valley, but set out to truly conquer. They expand. Cuetlachtli as my number two? He's perfect for it. His fanaticism will bind them, and our tech will make them unstoppable."
Malinalli's smirk softened into something almost approving, though her toxic edge lingered. "Ambitious. Turning beasts into blades. Just don't let them turn on us when they realize you're no god." She leaned in, her breath warm against his ear, her hand sliding to his thigh in a possessive tease. "Or maybe you are… to some of us."
Catalina flushed, her devotion flaring as she pressed closer, whispering in Castilian, "My lord… it sounds glorious. Our children will grow in this strength."
The courtyard fell into a charged silence, the women's pregnancies a tangible reminder of the empire's future, as Ehecatl pulled them both nearer, his mind already shifting to the next absorption: Cuauhmecatl's zeal waiting in Cholula.
…
…
…
As the echoes of Cuetlachtli's departure faded into the afternoon hum of the city, Ehecatl lingered in the courtyard, his mind already shifting to the next piece on the board. The priest Cuauhmecatl, whose zeal could bind Cholula without a single swing.
Malinalli watched him with that predatory gleam, her hand still on her belly, but her eyes tracing the lines of his body. Without a word, she shifted closer on the reed mat, her huipil slipping slightly as she knelt between his legs, her fingers deftly parting his loincloth.
"You talk too much strategy, boy,"
she murmured, her breath hot against his skin as she leaned in, her tongue flicking out teasingly before taking him into her mouth. The act was deliberate, possessive—a mix of her toxic fire and the raw intimacy that bound them, her movements slow and insistent, drawing a low groan from him as he leaned back against the pillar. Catalina watched from beside him, her cheeks flushing with a mix of devotion and unease, her hand resting on her own swelling belly as if to ground herself in their shared future.
"My lord," Catalina whispered in Castilian, her voice soft but edged with discomfort as she glanced away from Malinalli's rhythmic motions, though she didn't pull back from Ehecatl's side.
"About this priest… Cuauhmecatl. If he sees you as… as an apostle of your god Quetzalcoatl, it troubles me. My faith… the cross teaches one God, one savior. To think of you as divine to him, it feels like blasphemy."
Ehecatl's hand tangled gently in Malinalli's hair, guiding her as he turned his head to Catalina, his voice steady despite the pleasure building from Malinalli's attentions. Her tongue swirling, her lips tight, a deliberate distraction amid the conversation.
"The reason Cuauhmecatl thinks so is simple," he explained, his tone reassuring, charismatic even in the intimacy of the moment. "One of the names Quetzalcoatl goes by is Ehecatl which means the wind in Castilian, the bringer of knowledge and wisdom. Given all I've done in turning the tide against the Castilians, and rebuilding from ashes it's no wonder a priest devoted to Quetzalcoatl sees me as his avatar or apostle. But don't worry, Catalina. I've never been visited by the god himself. It's just a name, a coincidence that fits their stories."
He paused, his breath hitching as Malinalli deepened her efforts, her free hand stroking his balls possessively, her eyes flicking up to meet his with that smug, venomous satisfaction. Catalina nodded slowly, her devotion winning out over her unease, though her fingers tightened on her belly. "Then… what do you plan for him?"
Ehecatl smiled faintly, his hand caressing Catalina's cheek even as Malinalli's rhythm quickened, drawing him closer to the edge.
"Like with Cuetlachtli, I plan to bring him and Cholula into the empire. If there's a way to expand with minimal damage, I'll take it. Balanced tributes, shared rituals… we'll absorb them without breaking them. The priest's faith? It'll bind them to us, not divide. Our future, yours, Malinalli's, the children's depends on growing strong, not wasting blood."
Malinalli pulled back just enough to murmur against him, her voice husky,
"The beast and the priest… you're collecting quite the menagerie, boy."
Then she resumed, her actions a silent claim amid the talk of gods and empires, as the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows over their tangled forms.
As Malinalli's mouth worked him with that deliberate, teasing rhythm with her tongue swirling, lips tight and insistent, drawing him right to the edge. Ehecatl's breath came in shallow hitches, his hand still tangled in her hair, guiding her without force.
The courtyard's dappled sunlight played across their forms, the blooming vines a soft veil against the city's distant hum. Catalina watched from beside him, her devotion unwavering, though her cheeks flushed deeper at the intimate display, her hand absently stroking her belly as if to share in the moment's heat.
Malinalli pulled back just enough to speak, her voice husky and muffled against him, her breath hot on his penis as she glanced up with those sharp, venomous eyes. "And the rest of those warlords?" she murmured, her tongue flicking out teasingly before resuming her slow, deliberate suckling, the question slipping out between motions like a challenge.
"What are you going to do with them, boy? Absorb them all like that fanatic pup?"
Ehecatl groaned softly, his hips shifting involuntarily as she deepened her efforts, but his mind stayed sharp, the cheat's calculations weaving through the haze of pleasure. He turned his head slightly toward Catalina, who nodded encouragement, her own arousal evident in the way she pressed closer, before answering Malinalli in a voice steady but edged with building tension.
"For Cihuatecuhtli Ayauh, the one with nothing but women under her… I know what drives them. Every one of those followers is a victim that was raped, abused, tortured in the chaos we unleashed from the war. At their core, they just want safety, protection from that nightmare repeating. And I can offer it. I'll use what I call the 'ugly friend effect.'"
Malinalli hummed around him, the vibration sending a jolt through him, her eyes flicking up curiously as she slowed her pace, sucking languidly to let him speak. Catalina tilted her head, her Castilian soft as she whispered, "Ugly… friend?"
Ehecatl nodded, his free hand reaching to caress Catalina's thigh, drawing her into the intimacy even as Malinalli's mouth brought him closer to release.
"It means surrounding yourself with someone uglier makes you look better, more desirable. In practice, I'll make the Mexica the 'better-looking friend' or in this scenario, the safer choice. Yes, we're not perfect, but the other altepetls can't guarantee protection; their men might rape and discard them just like before. And the Castilians? Worse. I can promise we won't treat them as toys, that we'll see them as people. The Castilians only do that if you baptize, change your name, bow to their god. Otherwise, you're beneath them. Their women have less freedom than ours, as they're stuck at home, birthing kids endlessly, no voice in councils or wars. Heck, even you can vouch for that, Catalina."
Catalina nodded meekly, her flush deepening as she leaned into his touch, her hand sliding over his chest.
"Yes, my lord… back home, women were… confined. Here, with you, I feel… seen."
Malinalli chuckled around him, the sound vibrating through him, her pace quickening as if rewarding his words, her free hand continuing to grip his balls possessively.
"But to reel in Ayauh herself?" Ehecatl continued, his voice hitching as Malinalli's efforts intensified, her head bobbing with renewed fervor.
"I'll offer her leadership, rule over Texcoco. The nobles there are dead to me anyway; might as well give the city to her as a show of trust. The Texcoco survivors can toil under her, repopulating with our oversight. It's close by, so we keep eyes on her. Best to keep your friends close… but your enemies closer."
Malinalli pulled back with a wet pop, her lips glistening as she smirked up at him, stroking him firmly with her hand to keep him teetering on the brink.
"Clever, boy. Turn her vengeance into your chain. And the others?" She leaned in again, taking him deep, her question muffled but insistent.
Ehecatl's grip tightened in her hair, his release building as he answered through gritted teeth, the pleasure coiling tight.
"The faithful first… then the flips… and the beasts… discarded after use."
With that, he bucked slightly, spilling into her mouth as she swallowed greedily, her eyes locked on his in triumphant possession.
As Ehecatl's release ebbed, the courtyard filled with a languid quiet, broken only by the distant calls of market vendors and the rustle of chinampa vines in the breeze. He caressed both women gently, his hands moving with a possessive tenderness. One sliding along Malinalli's back, fingers tracing the curve of her spine as she pulled away with a satisfied smirk, wiping her lips; the other cupping Catalina's cheek, drawing her closer in a soft, reassuring embrace. Their pregnant forms pressed against him, a warm reminder of the heirs they carried, the future woven into their shared intimacy.
Malinalli nestled into his side, her head on his shoulder, while Catalina leaned her forehead against his chest, her devotion a quiet anchor.
"The merchant, Chimalli, and his band of merchant bandits," Ehecatl continued, his voice low and steady, the charismatic edge softening into the post-climax haze. "All they care about is profit. They've been making a killing selling our gunpowder and those primitive grenades, turning chaos into cacao and jade. I know how they think; greed is predictable. And Chimalli? He knows more about the land than any altepetl lord or Castilian ever could. He maps the wealth, where the gold dust hides in riverbeds, where turquoise beads trade thickest, which coasts yield the best cacao. Recruiting him and his crew has risks—they're bandits at heart, slippery as eels—but overall, they're doable. Turn their networks into ours, and we control the trade veins of Cemenahuac without lifting a macuahuitl."
Catalina nodded softly against him, her hand slipping to join his caress on Malinalli's arm, the three of them tangled in a moment of rare unity. Malinalli chuckled, her fingers trailing idly over his thigh. "And the psycho, Tochtli?"
Ehecatl's expression hardened slightly, though his touch remained gentle. "Tochtli on the other hand… he will not be absorbed. He'll be removed for good. Of course, that's after he's done being useful by terrorizing the lands, softening every village and holdout until they willingly join back under the Mexica banner. Let him play the beast a while longer; his horrors will drive them to our gates, begging for protection. Then, when the work's done… a quiet end. It's best to use tools until they're blunt, then discard them before they cut you."
The women pressed closer, Malinalli's smirk fading into approval, Catalina's devotion deepening as the empire's shadows lengthened, the weight of conquest settling over their intimate reprieve.
…
…
…
Time had slipped by in the rhythm of empire-building with tributes stacking higher in the warehouses, hostages reciting pledges with growing fervor, and the first Yaoquizque Tlapixque recruits drilling in their black-and-white spiraled uniforms under Cuetlachtli's fanatic eye. The valley hummed with progress, but Ehecatl's gaze stretched further, to the fractured lands beyond where Cholula's temples loomed like beacons of untapped zeal. The invitation to Cuauhmecatl had been sent, and now the priest arrived, escorted through Tenochtitlan's thriving streets by Mexica guards in iron-edged ichcahuipilli. The city stunned him as it had Cuetlachtli: markets brimming with goods from Chalco and Xochimilco, children stretching in plazas with newfound vitality, flags waving like divine omens.
"Quetzalcoatl's breath stirs here," Cuauhmecatl murmured, his bone mask rattling softly as he clutched his serpent staff, his followers trailing in awe.
They were led to Ehecatl's home, the courtyard now a nexus of quiet power, blooming with chinampa flowers and shaded by reed awnings. Malinalli and Catalina lounged nearby, their pregnancies prominent. Malinalli smirking as she fanned herself, Catalina folding mantas with devoted calm. Cuauhmecatl bowed deeply upon seeing Ehecatl, his eyes wide with reverence, whispering, "The wind incarnate… avatar of the feathered serpent."
Ehecatl waved him to rise, his presence commanding yet approachable, stepping forward with a charismatic smile that drew the priest in like a oracle weaving fates. He gestured for Cuauhmecatl to sit at the low table, pouring pulque himself. A humble act laced with intent, before settling across from him, his plain tilmatli belying the fire in his eyes.
Malinalli and Catalina watched
silently, the air thick with anticipation.
"I'm going to build an entirely new world for the Sixth Sun," Ehecatl began, his voice resonant and warm, laced with that magnetic charm that made men follow and gods seem near. He leaned forward, eyes locking with Cuauhmecatl's, painting visions with words as vivid as codex murals. "And for that, I need you."
He paused, letting the weight settle, then continued, his tone shifting to passionate fire, gesturing broadly as if unveiling the cosmos itself.
"The technologies I aim to forge will eclipse the old ways, horses right now are a exotic luxury to have and yet I aim for something that surpasses that, thunder-weapons that shatter armies from afar, vessels that sail not just lakes but endless seas, carrying our banners to horizons unseen. We'll craft mirrors that capture the sun's fire, tools that heal without herbs, lights that banish the night. The Mexica will expand farther than any before. Beyond Cemenahuac, across mountains and coasts, claiming lands where the sun rises and sets anew."
Ehecatl's eyes gleamed, his charisma pulling Cuauhmecatl deeper.
"And know this, there isn't just one world, but seven. Cemenahuac is but the heart, surrounded by realms waiting to kneel. I'll dominate each one, weaving them into our empire until the eagle-serpent flies over all. Gradually, our people will live better lives than any other, homes without hunger, cities without disease, knowledge flowing like the great rivers. Quetzalcoatl will rise alongside Huitzilopochtli in every chant, his wisdom the light guiding our conquests, his serpent the coil binding our foes."
He reached across the table, clasping Cuauhmecatl's forearm with firm warmth. "But for any of that to come to fruition, it's imperative you join us. Cholula could be vital in this vision with your temples as beacons of Quetzalcoatl's return, your zealots as the flame igniting the faithful. Stand with me, and we'll remake the suns themselves."
Cuauhmecatl's breath caught, his fanaticism igniting like dry tinder, the invitation hanging like a divine decree. Malinalli smirked from the shadows, whispering to Catalina, "The boy's got another one hooked now," as the empire's shadows lengthened toward new horizons.
Cuauhmecatl sat frozen for a long moment, his bone mask casting eerie shadows across his face as Ehecatl's words hung in the air like incense smoke. Visions of thunder-weapons, sea-conquering vessels, and an empire spanning seven worlds. The priest's staff trembled in his grip, the serpent carvings seeming to writhe as if alive, his eyes wide and gleaming with a fervor that bordered on ecstasy. Malinalli watched from the shadows with a wry smirk, her hand on her belly, while Catalina shifted uncomfortably, her devotion to Ehecatl clashing with the priest's pagan zeal.
"The Sixth Sun… remade,"
Cuauhmecatl whispered at last, his voice hoarse, breaking the silence like a temple drum. He rose slowly, then dropped to one knee, bowing his head so low his forehead nearly touched the reed mat.
"You speak as the feathered serpent himself, Ehecatl—wind of wisdom, bringer of knowledge! I have seen omens in the smoke of Cholula's altars. A boy rising from ruin, harvesting souls not for blood but for renewal. And now… this vision! Technologies to eclipse the stars, expansion beyond the horizons of Cemenahuac—seven worlds dominated under Quetzalcoatl's coil? Cholula's temples will burn brighter for it, our rites elevating him beside Huitzilopochtli as the twin pillars of eternity!"
His followers, clustered at the courtyard's edge, murmured in awe, some falling to their knees as well, their chants low and rhythmic "Ehecatl-Quetzalcoatl… the avatar speaks." Cuauhmecatl lifted his gaze, tears streaking his painted cheeks, his fanaticism igniting like a sacrificial pyre.
"You need me? No, Quetzalcoatl needs us all! Cholula is yours, great one. Our priests will preach your gospel, our zealots will march as your vanguard. We'll bind the faithful, turn temples into forges of your divine tools. For a world where our people thrive without the old hungers, where knowledge flows like the sacred cenotes, yes! I join you, not as servant, but as vessel for the serpent's will!"
Ehecatl nodded, his charismatic smile deepening as he clasped the priest's shoulder, pulling him up.
"Then it's sealed. Cholula becomes the heart of our enlightenment. Your faith, the wind carrying us to those seven worlds." Cuauhmecatl embraced the role with unbridled passion, his mind already spinning sermons of the "avatar's" grand design, Cholula's absorption a bloodless triumph that would echo through the empire's growing shadows.
Malinalli chuckled softly, whispering to Catalina, "The boy's collecting gods now—watch how this one bends the knee harder than the last."
…
…
…
Not long after securing Cuauhmecatl's fervent support—his zealots already marching from Cholula to swell the Mexica ranks, their chants echoing Quetzalcoatl's name tied to Ehecatl's. Cihuatecuhtli Ayauh arrived in Tenochtitlan. Word of her approach rippled through the city like a storm wind, her entourage a fierce procession of scarred women in reed-and-blood banners, their macuahuitls sheathed but eyes sharp as obsidian. They moved through the gates unbowed, survivors of horrors that had forged them into a matriarchy of vengeance, their strides a defiant rhythm against the thriving streets. Escorted by Mexica guards in iron-edged ichcahuipilli, they were led directly to Ehecatl's home, the courtyard now a nexus of blooming chinampas and quiet power.
Ehecatl greeted them at the threshold, his presence commanding yet approachable, stepping forward with a charismatic smile that warmed the air like the midday sun. Malinalli lounged nearby on a reed mat, her swelling belly a bold claim, smirking as she eyed the newcomers. Catalina sat next to Malinalli, her devotion quiet but her pregnancy a shared emblem of the empire's renewal. The entourage which were comprised of hardened women with faces etched by trauma, bodies clad in practical huipils reinforced with leather fanned out warily, their leader, Cihuatecuhtli Ayauh, at the fore. A noblewoman of striking beauty, her dark hair braided with reeds, eyes fierce and unyielding.
Ehecatl gestured for them to sit around the low table laden with pulque and food, his voice resonant and charming, drawing them in like a politician playing a part to secure votes.
"Sisters of the swamps," he began, his tone laced with genuine admiration, eyes sweeping over them with respect that made the entourage lean forward.
"I praise you for the horrors you've survived. The rapes, the abuses, the tortures that no soul should endure, and for taking matters into your own hands. You've forged a sisterhood from the ashes, turning pain into power. The land is in chaos, yes, but with the Mexica rising again, incidents like that will end. You've heard of Hernan Cortes's trial? We stripped him of glory, sentenced him to labor as a living reminder. Things like that, terror against the innocent will be put to a stop under our banner."
He paused, his charisma pulling them deeper, highlighting the education program with passionate fire.
"Look at our schools: girls stretching for strength, learning balance not just for grace, but for health, confidence, and the children they'll bear. They weave with math in their stitches, leap like jaguars in drills. Your sisters could thrive here. They'd be protected, empowered, part of a world where women aren't broken but build and help rebuild."
The entourage bought it, their hardened faces softening, murmurs rippling through them like a released breath.
"Safety… no more chains," one whispered, eyes glistening. But Cihuatecuhtli Ayauh crossed her arms, her gaze sharp as she nodded toward Malinalli and Catalina.
"And them? Aren't they victims? The Castilian girl, the translator, prizes from your 'victories'?"
Ehecatl smiled calmly, unfazed. "Ask them yourselves. I've never mistreated them." He turned to the women, his voice warm. "Speak freely."
Malinalli smirked, sitting up straighter. "Victim? I chose this as it's better claimed by him than broken by others. He loves, protects, gives me voice."
Catalina nodded meekly, her Castilian accent soft as she speaks broken Nahuatl. "My lord claimed me, cherishes me… our child will be strong, not shamed."
Cihuatecuhtli studied them, her skepticism cracking, then offered with a bold tilt of her chin, "To seal this alliance… marriage. Me to you. Bind our fates, prove your words."
Ehecatl's eyes traced her form. She wasn't bad-looking at all, her noble bearing fierce and alluring.
'She's hot, and loyal women in power are rare, so fuck it. Why not.'
He agreed with a charismatic nod, extending his hand.
"Done. And to show trust, I offer you control of Texcoco. Move your women there, rule it as your domain. The traitors' city is yours now, a haven under our empire."
She clasped his forearm, the deal sealed, her entourage erupting in relieved cheers. The empire grew, shadows lengthening as alliances turned to conquests.
…
…
…
It was barely a day that passed when
Chimalli's arrival in Tenochtitlan was heralded by the clatter of laden canoes docking at the lake's edge, his entourage a motley caravan of merchants and guards hauling crates that gleamed with promise. Word had spread through the markets like wildfire. The warlord-merchant, once a rogue trader skimming profits from the chaos, now answering Ehecatl's summons.
Escorted by Mexica warriors in their iron-reinforced ichcahuipilli, Chimalli strode through the bustling streets with the swagger of a man who smelled opportunity, his tilmatli embroidered with gold thread looted from Castilian wrecks, his band trailing behind with burdens that turned heads as it included bundles of quetzal feathers, jade beads strung like promises, and caged macaws squawking in vibrant protest.
They were led to Ehecatl's home, the courtyard now a hub of quiet empire-building, blooming chinampas framing the space like living tapestries.
Malinalli lounged on a reed mat, her pregnancy a bold curve under her huipil, smirking as she eyed the newcomers. Catalina sat nearby, folding tribute mantas with her usual devoted calm, her own belly swelling in silent harmony. Ehecatl greeted Chimalli at the threshold, his plain tilmatli a deliberate contrast to the merchant's opulence, but his charismatic smile drawing the man in like a well-baited hook.
"Welcome, Chimalli," Ehecatl said, his voice warm and commanding, gesturing to the low table laden with pulque and a variety of dishes. "I've heard tales of your caravans—turning blood into cacao, chaos into jade. Sit, and let's talk of wealth."
Chimalli bowed with a flourish, his eyes gleaming as he signaled his men forward. "Cihuacoatl, your vision rebuilds empires, and thus I've brought gifts to honor it."
Crates were opened, turquoise beads spilling like frozen rain, cacao pods rich and fragrant, feathers that could adorn a tlatoani's cloak. But the crown was the girl. A beautiful captive in her mid-teens, her dark hair braided with gold threads, her huipil finely woven, eyes downcast but posture proud.
"This one I picked specifically for you," Chimalli insisted, pushing her forward gently.
"From a Tlaxcalan raid. She remains untouched, fertile, nubile, a jewel for your collection."
Ehecatl accepted with a nod, his eyes appraising her briefly before waving her to sit beside Catalina, who offered a tentative smile. For a moment, as Chimalli grinned like a satisfied broker, Ehecatl's mind flashed to the 21st century of shady businessmen in tailored suits, influencers hawking crypto scams on glowing screens, turning desperation into dollars. 'This guy's cut from the same cloth,' he thought, suppressing a wry smirk. 'All flash, all profit—useful, but watch the knife.'
Chimalli launched into his pitch, leaning forward with animated gestures. "Your city blooms, but imagine the luxuries! Velvet from distant coasts—I've contacts for it now, with guns opening doors. Perfumes to mask the lake's stink, silks for your women, spices that burn the tongue like your grenades. We could flood the markets, make Tenochtitlan the envy of—"
Ehecatl listened, taking mental notes. The velvet could pad armor, spices preserve rations, but he raised a hand, taking back control with effortless charisma, his voice shifting to that resonant warmth that made men lean in.
"Luxuries have their place, Chimalli, but let's talk real wealth. Global trading networks spanning not just Cemenahuac, but the seven worlds beyond, where gold flows like rivers and spices pile higher than temples. Extortion, press the weak for protection, turn their fear into tribute. Usury, lend jade or cacao at rates that bind debtors like chains, growing your hoard on their backs. Capitalism, let greed drive the wheel, where the clever amass empires while the fools toil. Manipulating currency, debase the cacao beans, inflate the feathers—control the flow, and you control the land."
Chimalli's eyes widened, leaning forward as Ehecatl painted the vision with passionate fire. "There are other lands with abundant wealth—coasts heavy with pearls, mountains veined with silver. I hope to absorb you and your network into the empire. We'll back you with logistics. Our canoes, our roads, perhaps some horses and muscle with warriors to guard your caravans, grenades to clear paths. In return, the Mexica get a cut of the profit, fair and steady. And no exploitation of our people. Sell to us at cost, or not at all. Join, and you'll be our preferred pochteca for exclusive contracts, first access to our tech, riches beyond your raids."
Chimalli stroked his chin, the merchant's greed flickering like torchlight. "A marriage of sorts—your vision, my webs. Tempting, Cihuacoatl. Very tempting." The deal hung in the air, the courtyard shadows lengthening as the empire's tendrils.