The road to Cholula would bring peace or another front of war. Ehecatl should have been focused. Instead, he was getting his balls and penis tongued as a final form of pleasure should he have died on the way, at Cholula, or back.
Ehecatl's breath came in ragged gasps as Catalina's mouth worked him with that devoted precision, her lips tight and warm, tongue swirling in slow, teasing circles that built the tension like a coiling serpent. She knelt before him on the reed mat, her pregnant form a sensual curve under her huipil, eyes looking up at him with unwavering adoration as she took him deeper, her hands gripping his thighs for leverage. The courtyard's morning light filtered through the vines, casting golden highlights on her pale skin, her cheeks hollowing with each suck that drew a low groan from his throat.
Malinalli watched from nearby with her toxic smirk, rubbing her own belly as if savoring the show, while Xochiquetzal averted her eyes, though her flush betrayed her intrigue.
"That's it, my light."
Ehecatl murmured, his hand tangling in her hair, guiding her rhythm without force, his hips bucking slightly as the pleasure crested.
She hummed around him, the vibration sending him over the edge, as he spilled into her mouth with a shuddering release, her swallow eager and loving, drawing out every drop until he softened, pulling her up for a deep kiss that tasted of him.
"You give me strength."
he whispered against her lips, his fingers tracing her jaw before slapping her ass lightly in affection.
Malinalli chuckled, leaning in for her own slap on Catalina's thigh.
"Save some for the road, boy. Cholula awaits."
Ehecatl nodded, rising with a stretch, his body sated but mind already shifting to the threats ahead. The Tarascans, or also known as the Michhuaque as the Mexica called them, had seized Malinalco and Toluca, their raids pushing east like a gathering storm. A two-front war with Tlaxcala didn't sound appealing; Nazi Germany had already demonstrated why that was a bad idea, and he wasn't keen on repeating the same mistakes. Peace, or absorption with Tlaxcala, was crucial now; secure one flank to crush the other.
Cholula's sit-down had to end well. He dressed in his new noble attire, the expensive tilmatli mantle in cochineal red embroidered with quetzal feathers, loincloth of soft cotton edged in gold, cactli sandals laced with leather, first impressions matter for envoys. Kissing Malinalli deeply, tongues tangling in possession, then Catalina tenderly, hand on her belly, he gave Xochiquetzal a wink.
"Hold the fort, sweet cheeks. I'll be back soon."
Mounting his horse, one of the stolen beasts saddled with feather-braided harness, the Yaoquizque Tlapixque formed up around him, their black-and-white spiraled uniforms a whirlwind of menace. Cuetlachtli rode at his side, fanatic eyes gleaming.
"To Cholula, ripener, the serpent's call awaits."
They rode out, the city's hum fading as the road to Cholula stretched ahead, Ehecatl's mind racing with contingencies, the dual threats fueling his resolve. The Michhuaque wouldn't wait; Tlaxcala had to fold first.
…
…
…
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of deep indigo, Ehecatl and his Yaoquizque Tlapixque approached Cholula, the city's silhouette emerging like a divine sentinel against the gathering night. The road wound through fertile fields of maguey and maize, the air thick with the scent of earth and distant incense, but it was the Great Pyramid that stole his breath. The Tlachihualtepetl, rising tier upon tier in a massive, stepped colossus, its whitewashed stucco glowing faintly under the first stars.
Unlike the buried relic he'd seen in 21st-century photos, entombed under a Spanish church like a conquered giant, this was the pyramid in its full glory. Vast, unyielding, a man-made mountain dedicated to Quetzalcoatl, its summit crowned with temples where flames flickered like beacons.
Ehecatl dismounted his horse, the Yaoquizque Tlapixque forming a protective ring around him, their black-and-white spiraled uniforms blending into the twilight like shadows of the night itself. Cuetlachtli rode at his side, fanatic eyes wide with reverence, but Ehecatl's gaze was fixed upward. The Milky Way began to unveil above, a river of stars arching over the pyramid like a cosmic serpent coiling around its prey, the galaxy's glow illuminating the structure's colorful bands of reds, blues, and whites symbolizing the gods' favor. A small figure, perhaps a priest moved at the base, ascending the stairs with ritual grace, a lone silhouette against the vastness that made Ehecatl truly understand the stakes.
"This… this is why we fought," he murmured to himself, the awe settling deep in his chest. Cholula wasn't just a city; it was a prize of the gods, its pyramid a bridge between earth and cosmos, coveted by Mexica and Tlaxcalan alike for its spiritual power and strategic heart. The Castilians had sought to bury it under their cross, but here, in this world he'd reshaped, it stood proud. Cuauhmecatl approached from the pyramid's base, bowing low.
"Emissary of Quetzalcoatl, the call awaits. Rest for
The night, as we'll prepare the call for the envoys tomorrow."
Ehecatl nodded, his resolve hardened; peace or war, Cholula's glory would be the stage.
…
…
…
Cuauhmecatl guided them to the tecpan where Ehecatl noticed the nobility here dress more flashy, and boujee compared to the nobility of the Mexica. Since it was already night time, and it was decided that they'd talk more in the morning, but not before leaving a woman for Ehecatl to enjoy and to help keep him company.
Ehecatl's first night in Cholula unfolded in the opulent tecpan, its chambers a lavish retreat with walls adorned in colorful murals of Quetzalcoatl's feathered serpent coiling through starry skies, reed mats piled with velvet from Chimalli's trades, incense burners wafting herbal clouds that relaxed the body and stirred the senses. As the priest withdrew with a reverent bow, he left behind a woman, a high-class Cholulan beauty in her early twenties, her huipil a rainbow of striped patterns in vibrant reds, blues, and yellows, the fabric clinging to her full breasts and hips with intricate spirals and motifs that accentuated her curvaceous form. Her hair was styled in high pigtails tied with colorful ribbons, green jade necklace draping her neck, earrings dangling like temple chimes. She stood with a mix of devotion and sultry confidence, her dark eyes gleaming under kohl-lined lids, lips painted red as cochineal.
"Welcome, emissary of Quetzalcoatl."
she whispered, her voice husky as she approached, her hips swaying with deliberate grace, the huipil's fringes brushing her thighs.
"Cuauhmecatl bids me serve you. Let me ease your burdens, stir your winds."
Ehecatl, lounging on the feather-stuffed cushions, felt the pull. Her presence a delight after only having had fucked Ayauh, now he's got this beauty to fuck her senseless. He beckoned her closer, his smile drawing her in.
"Come, and show me Cholula's hospitality."
She knelt before him, her hands tracing his thighs with feather-light touches that sent heat racing through him, her lips brushing his ear as she murmured,
"Command me, emissary of Quetzalcoatl… my body is your altar, my body is yours to do with as you wish."
Their kiss ignited with tongues tangling in passionate hunger, her submission clear as she yielded to his dominance, her moans soft and begging as he pinned her wrists, claiming her mouth with possessive sweeps. Clothes shed in a frenzy, her rainbow huipil pooling at her feet to reveal her bare form. Her curves glowing in the torchlight, full breasts heaving with anticipation, nipples hardened like jade.
The noble Cholulan woman, her rainbow-striped huipil already discarded in a colorful puddle on the chamber floor, straddled Ehecatl in the rocking horse position on the feather-stuffed cushions, her full breasts bouncing with each downward thrust as she rode him hard, her high pigtails swaying like pendulums. Her hands braced on his chest for leverage, nails digging into his skin as she ground her hips in slow, deliberate circles, her wet heat clenching around him with every rock, drawing deep groans from his throat. "Please… fill me." she moaned, her voice husky and begging, eyes locked on his in submissive adoration as he gripped her hips, guiding her rhythm with dominant force, thrusting up to meet her, the slap of skin echoing in the incense-heavy air.
He flipped her effortlessly into spooning, pulling her back against his chest on the reed mat, one arm wrapped around her waist to pin her close, the other lifting her leg high for deeper access. His penis slid into her from behind with a slow, teasing push, building to powerful strokes that made her arch and whimper, her full curves pressing into him as he licked and nipped at her neck, sucking hard enough to leave red marks that bloomed like claims.
"Yield to me."
he growled against her ear, his free hand sliding between her thighs to circle her clit with expert fingers, her body trembling in submission as waves of pleasure built, her moans turning to gasps.
Eager for more control, he lifted her onto a low table, laying her over it on her back, her legs spread wide as he stood between them, thrusting deep and commanding, the table rocking with each powerful drive. Her breasts heaved with the impact, nipples hardened like jade under his gaze as he leaned down to suck and lick them, tongue flicking relentlessly while his hands pinned her wrists above her head, her submission complete as she begged, "Dominate me… harder, oh gods." The angle allowed him to hit spots that made her cry out, her walls clenching around him in ecstatic surrender.
They shifted back to spooning, this time on the velvet-draped cushions, her body curled into him as he entered from behind again, slow and intimate, his arm draped over her to tease her breasts with pinching fingers, his mouth on her shoulder, biting softly as he rolled his hips in a rhythm that built her to the edge.
"Your body was made for me."
he whispered, his free hand dipping lower to stroke her clit, her moans muffled against the cushions as she submitted fully, body quivering with need.
He pulled out, flipping her onto all fours for doggy style, her ass presented high as he entered with a single, dominant thrust, hands gripping her hips with bruising force, slapping her cheeks in rhythm with each deep drive that filled the room with wet, slapping sounds. She pushed back eagerly, submissive and hungry.
"Yes… my body is made for you, emissary of Quetzalcoatl."
her pigtails swinging as she arched, her climax building from the angle's intensity.
Kneeling before him next, she gave head with devoted fervor, her lips stretching around his girth as she sucked with long, slow pulls, tongue swirling the tip before taking him deep, her eyes looking up in worshipful devotion, hands stroking what her mouth couldn't reach.
"You taste good my lord."
she murmured between licks, her saliva glistening as she worked him closer.
Ehecatl laid her back, spreading her legs wide to eat her out. His tongue delving into her folds with hungry laps, sucking her clit between his lips with rhythmic pulls that made her hips buck, fingers gripping his hair as she cried out,
"Gods… don't stop."
her body writhing in euphoric bliss under his command.
Finally, as she knelt once more, he gave her a facial. Stroking himself to release, hot streams of white painting her face and chest as she looked up with devoted eyes, licking her lips in devotion while saying
"Your essence… honors me, emissary of Quetzalcoatl."
Sated, they collapsed amid the luxury, her head on his chest as she whispered sultry praises such as "Your power… it fills me like the gods' breath."
The night set the tone for his indulgence, a god amongst men reveling in the perks while awaiting Tlaxcala's word.
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…
Ehecatl stirred awake in the lavish chamber of the Cholula tecpan, the first rays of dawn slipping through reed curtains to cast a soft glow over the tangled sheets. Beside him lay the noble Cholulan woman from the night before, her naked form a vision of curves and sun-kissed skin, her high pigtails disheveled from their passionate entanglement, her full breasts rising and falling with slow breaths. She slept soundly, one leg draped over the velvet cushion, her ass presented like an invitation in the light. He couldn't resist, as his hand reached out, grabbing and holding her ass firm, fingers sinking into the soft, warm flesh with a possessive squeeze that made her stir with a soft, sleepy moan, her body arching instinctively into his touch even in slumber. The feel of her supple, and yielding ass stirred a fresh heat in him, but duty called; he released her with a lingering caress, rising from the bed with a satisfied grin, his body still humming from the night's indulgences.
Dressing in his noble tilmatli, the cochineal red fabric embroidered with quetzal feathers flowing like a king's mantle, he stepped out into the morning air, the pyramid looming like a silent guardian. Cuauhmecatl and Cuetlachtli awaited him in a nearby plaza, the latter demonstrating the Yaoquizque Tlapixque's prowess to the high priest. Cuetlachtli, in his spiraled uniform, barked orders as the guardians drilled. Macuahuitls and swords swinging in synchronized arcs, grenades tossed in practice throws that exploded harmless blanks with thunderous cracks, swords clashing against shields in a whirlwind of black-and-white patterns.
The unit moved like a living storm, their motto of "My honor is called loyalty" chanted between maneuvers, Cuetlachtli's fanatic voice booming over the ranks.
Cuauhmecatl watched with wide-eyed interest, his bone mask tilted as he nodded approvingly, the concept sinking in like incense smoke.
"Impressive, Cihuacoatl." he said, his voice resonant with awe as Ehecatl approached.
"This order, their discipline, their thunder-weapons blending with the serpent's grace. Quetzalcoatl would favor such guardians. I'm willing to send some of my men with you when you head back so they could be trained, become extensions of the avatar's will."
Ehecatl clasped his shoulder, his charismatic smile drawing the priest in further.
"Wise choice, Cuauhmecatl. They'll strengthen us all."
The demonstration wrapped with a final volley of blanks, the guardians standing proud, their loyalty a palpable force.
With the morning's business shifting, Ehecatl pulled Cuauhmecatl aside, his tone turning serious amid the plaza's fading echoes. "A question, have you heard of the village Acatzinco, near the sacred springs?"
Cuauhmecatl's eyes narrowed behind his mask, surprise flickering in his gaze. "A small place, ehecatl. Why would such a humble village concern one like you?"
Ehecatl explained, his voice steady but laced with a rare sincerity, the memory of Xochiquetzal's hopeful eyes stirring an unexpected pang in his chest. "I was given a girl named Xochiquetzal as a maid. She's a Cholulan that was taken in a Tlaxcalan raid. She's loyal, capable… I gave my word I'd learn her family's fate if I could. The village suffered badly; if your envoys can inquire…"
Cuauhmecatl bowed deeply, his reverence deepening with a touch of emotion, the avatar's compassion a sign of divine mercy. "It will be done, great one. For the serpent's servant, no request is too small. I'll send word today, their fate will be known."
Ehecatl nodded gratefully, the exchange a quiet anchor amid the empire's storms, before turning to the day's indulgences, the pyramid's shadow lengthening as Cholula's luxuries awaited.
With the inquiry of xochiquetzal's family now on Cuauhmecatl's mind, Ehecatl pulled Cuauhmecatl aside once, his tone turning curious amid the plaza's fading echoes.
"A question about the noblewoman you presented last night. Who is she? Her… company was memorable; I might keep her for the duration of my stay."
Cuauhmecatl's eyes gleamed behind his mask, a hint of knowing satisfaction in his voice as he bowed slightly.
"Ah, the avatar finds favor. She is Tlazolteotl, daughter of a high scribe from our temples and is twenty-three summers, devoted to Quetzalcoatl's rites. Her family honors the serpent with generations of service; she was chosen for her beauty and purity, to ease your burdens as the gods command. If she pleases you, she is yours to command. Cholula offers its finest without reservation."
Ehecatl nodded, a flicker of intrigue crossing his face, the woman's passionate submission and devotion from the night before stirring a fresh hunger.
"She does. Send word, I'll have her return tonight."
Cuauhmecatl bowed deeper, his reverence deepening as he withdrew, leaving Ehecatl to ponder the city's gifts amid the empire's brewing storms.
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…
As they strolled through Cholula's winding streets, the city's low, sprawling layout unfolded like a living tapestry around them, a stark contrast to Tenochtitlan's dense, towering sprawl. Neighborhoods spread outward in a maze of wards, each dotted with lush gardens bursting with maguey and maize, courtyards alive with the chatter of families, and canals reflecting the morning sun like veins of liquid gold. Ehecatl admired the sight with quiet awe, the air thick with the scent of blooming flowers and distant incense, the atmosphere one of quiet, ancient power that's less militarized than his home, more steeped in ritual, as if the gods themselves had woven the city's fabric.
The Great Pyramid loomed in the distance, its stepped tiers a magnificent sentinel even in daylight, its white stucco gleaming under the sun, a bridge between earth and the heavens that stirred a deep reverence in his chest.
Word of the "Emissary of Quetzalcoatl" arrival had spread like wildfire through the pilgrim-crowded avenues, and as they walked, commoners began to line the packed earth and stone paths, their faces alight with curiosity and hope. Porters paused mid-stride with their burdens of cacao and feathers, priests in feathered cloaks bowed slightly from temple doorways, traders set down their wares of obsidian and salt, and refugees displaced by Tochtli's brutality, their eyes hollow from migration as they gathered in hushed clusters, drawn by whispers of stability returning to the region.
Cuauhmecatl, as the high priest in charge of the city, walked beside Ehecatl with reverent purpose, his bone mask rattling softly as he hyped him up to the growing crowd, his voice booming like temple drums. "Behold the wind incarnate, Quetzalcoatl's avatar!" he proclaimed, gesturing dramatically with his serpent staff, his fanatic eyes gleaming. "Ehecatl, ripener of souls, rebuilder of empires, he comes to Cholula as the gods foretold, bringing the Sixth Sun's light to our shadows! Bow to the one who shattered the Caxtilteca, who reclaims what was lost!"
The people responded with warm, emotional welcomes. Commoners kneeling without groveling, their cotton mantles simple yet clean, reflecting the city's wealth. Women clutched their striped huipils, tears welling as they murmured blessings, "Avatar, heal our wounds," their voices cracking with hope after the war's scars. Men, calm and reserved, offered gifts of fresh maguey pulque and woven baskets, their faces alight with quiet relief. Pilgrims pressed forward, hands outstretched in reverence, while nobles polite and eager hosted impromptu greetings, offering scribes for notes, storehouses for supplies, and temples for reflection without being asked, their formal bows hiding a palpable gratitude for stability returning to the region.
Ehecatl felt the weight of their adoration, a surge of emotion swelling in his chest, pride mixed with the responsibility of his "god-like" status, the hype from Cuauhmecatl turning the walk into a procession that made him feel truly divine. He nodded graciously, his charismatic smile drawing cheers, as the crowd's warmth enveloped him like the city's ancient power.
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Later that day, as the sun dipped low over Cholula's sprawling wards, casting long shadows across the gardens and canals, a lavish dinner unfolded in the tecpan's grand hall. The space was alive with the scent of roasted quail and spiced tamales, platters heaped with avocado guacamole, frothed chocolate, and pulque flowing from gourd vessels like liquid gold. Nobles from the city bowed in quiet reverence, their colorful tilmatli adding splashes of vibrancy to the torchlit room, while musicians played flutes and drums in rhythmic hymns that wove through the air like seductive whispers.
Ehecatl, seated at the head with Cuauhmecatl and Cuetlachtli at his sides, allowed the Yaoquizque Tlapixque who had accompanied him to indulge fully. Their black-and-white spiraled uniforms loosened as they raised cups of pulque, laughter booming as beautiful commoner females and ahuiani provided by Cuauhmecatl draped themselves over them, their striped huipils slipping teasingly in the heat of the feast, hands trailing thighs and whispers promising nights of release.
The warriors, hardened from drills and raids, let loose with unbridled joy as their discipline were momentarily set aside for the night's revelry, bodies pressing close in dances that bordered on ecstasy, the air thick with the musk of desire and spilled pulque.
Cuetlachtli, ever the fanatic, partook moderately but with fervor, his eyes gleaming as a priestess whispered sultry devotions in his ear, her fingers tracing his scars like sacred glyphs.
Ehecatl, however, while no stranger to sex and lust put it aside, his mind anchored on duty. As the feast peaked, Cuauhmecatl leaned in, his bone mask casting eerie shadows, his voice low and grave amid the revelry's hum.
"Ehecatlzin, the envoys have whispered back from Tlaxcala. Their message comes warily, demanding assurances with no traps, it's to be done in neutral rites in the pyramid's shadow. But their tone… fractured. The twenty Castilians under Olid push for fight, but the elders waver, fearing your 'thunder-weapons.' Peace hangs by a thread."
Ehecatl nodded, his expression steady, but a flicker of strategic relief crossed his face. The Tlaxcalans response a step toward averting the two-front nightmare with the Michhuaque. Before he could reply, Cuauhmecatl continued, his tone softening with a touch of solemnity.
"And the girl, Xochiquetzal's family… my envoys learned their fate from Acatzinco's survivors. The raid was brutal, the Tlaxcalans burned homes, took captives. Her mother and sisters… gone, either claimed as 'prizes' or slain in the chaos. But her father lives, scarred but unbroken, tending the sacred springs. He sends word through the scouts in gratitude for your inquiry, hope for her safety."
The news hit Ehecatl like a quiet storm, his chest tightening with an unexpected pang of sympathy for Xochiquetzal's loss, a reminder of the war's human cost amid his grand plans.
"Thank you, Cuauhmecatl," he said, his voice low and sincere, eyes distant as he pictured her face back home, the healer whom he'd grope and slap her ass. "I'll carry the news gently… and ensure such raids end with our peace."
The priest bowed, reverence deepening, as the feast's joy swirled around them, Ehecatl's resolve hardening amid the indulgence, the empire's fate balancing on words and weapons.
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Later that night, in the opulent chambers of the Cholula tecpan, the air thick with the sweet, fermented haze of pulque and the lingering smoke of herbal incense, Ehecatl lounged on the feather-stuffed cushions, his body heavy with the drink's warm buzz. Tlazolteotl, the Cholulan noblewoman Cuauhmecatl had revealed as a high scribe's daughter, lay beside him, her naked form glowing in the torchlight, curves accentuated by the jade necklace still draping her heaving breasts. The pulque had loosened them both, her high pigtails undone, dark hair cascading like a midnight river over her shoulders as she pressed against him, her full lips brushing his ear with sultry whispers.
"Ehecatlzin." she purred, her voice husky from the drink, her hand tracing his chest down to his hardening cock, stroking with slow, teasing firmness that made him groan.
"Let me submit fully… take me in ways the gods envy." The pulque fueled his desire, the day's awe of the pyramid and the city's ancient power mixing with the raw lust of indulgence. He flipped her onto her stomach with dominant ease, her ass presented high as he knelt behind her, spreading her cheeks with firm hands.
He started slow, his fingers dipping between her thighs to stroke her slick folds, drawing moans as he prepared her, circling her tight entrance with lubricated touch, a pulque-mixed oils from the baths making her glisten.
"This'll only hurt for a moment, but you'll take it, and you'll love it." he commanded, his voice low and charismatic, laced with the drink's haze, as he positioned himself, pressing the tip against her, thrusting in gradually with a deep groan, her body clenching in submissive and euphoric bliss. She arched back, crying out in pleasure-pain, "Yes… dominate my hole, my ass is yours." her hands fisting the cushions as he built rhythm, each powerful stroke filling her completely, the sensation tight and intense.
The pulque amplified every sensation that made her moans turning to whimpers as he gripped her hips with bruising force, slapping her cheeks in punctuated rhythm that left red marks glowing, her submission complete as she begged for more. But beneath the dominance, an emotional current flowed; he leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back, whispering tenderly in her ear, "You're beautiful in your surrender… let me fill the emptiness they've left," his words stirring tears of vulnerability in her eyes as she turned her head to meet his gaze, her voice breaking, "Ehecatlzin… you see me, truly see me," her body trembling not just from pleasure but from the raw intimacy of being claimed with care.
He slowed his thrusts, drawing out each deep penetration to savor the connection, his hand sliding around to caress her belly, fingers tracing gentle patterns that made her sob with overwhelming emotion, her walls clenching around him in waves of trust and release. "I submit… all of me," she whispered through tears, her heart opening as much as her body, the act transcending lust into a profound bond. He followed soon after, spilling deep inside her with a guttural groan, the pulque heightening the flood of sensation as he held her close, their bodies slick and entwined. Sated, they collapsed, her head on his chest as she whispered through sobs of joy, "Your power… it breaks and rebuilds me, Ehecatlzin." The night deepened, the pyramid's shadow a silent witness to his indulgence.
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…
A few days after that, the Tlaxcalan envoys arrived at Cholula under a midday sun that beat down like Huitzilopochtli's unyielding gaze, their procession kicking up dust on the eastern road that wound through maguey fields and refugee camps. Numbering a dozen strong, they came not as conquerors but as wary diplomats, nobles in feathered tilmatli of red and white, their mantles embroidered with Tlaxcalan glyphs of eagles and spears, flanked by warriors in padded ichcahuipilli armor reinforced with Castilian swords at their hips and a few carrying arquebuses slung over shoulders, the barrels glinting ominously. At the head rode a grizzled tlatoani named Maxixcatzin, his face scarred from old flower wars, eyes sharp with the caution of a people who'd once toppled empires only to see their allies turn.
Cuauhmecatl's scouts had spotted them hours earlier, and now the high priest stood at the pyramid's base with Ehecatl, the massive Tlachihualtepetl looming behind them like a divine arbitrator. The Yaoquizque Tlapixque formed a disciplined line, their black-and-white spiraled uniforms a menacing whirlwind, grenades bulging at belts, Cuetlachtli at the fore with fanatic intensity. As the envoys dismounted, the air thick with the scent of dust and distant incense, commoners and pilgrims lined the paths, murmuring in awe, refugees from Tochtli's terrors mixing with locals in cotton mantles, their faces a tapestry of hope and suspicion.
Maxixcatzin approached with measured steps, his delegation bowing stiffly but not kneeling, eyes flicking to the pyramid's summit where flames flickered in temples dedicated to Quetzalcoatl. "Cihuacoatl," he said, his voice gravelly and guarded, "we come for the sit-down, as invited. Neutral ground, no blades. Let's see if the feathered serpent's avatar speaks truth or treachery."
Ehecatl met his gaze with calm, stepping forward flanked by Cuauhmecatl, who hyped him with a resonant chant of "Behold the wind incarnate, bringer of the Sixth Sun!" The envoys shifted uneasily, their warriors gripping swords, but the pyramid's ancient power and Ehecatl's presence held them in check, the tension thick as pulque, the talks poised on a knife's edge amid the city's ritual hum.
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…
The groups moved to a nearby tecpan, a grand hall with walls painted in vibrant murals of Quetzalcoatl's serpent coiling through starry skies, reed mats arranged in a circle for equality under the gods' gaze. Cuauhmecatl's priests and Cholula nobles flanked one side, their colorful huipils and feathered cloaks a splash of ritual splendor, while Ehecatl's Yaoquizque Tlapixque stood guard, their spiraled uniforms a silent threat. The Tlaxcalans sat opposite, Maxixcatzin at the center, his warriors tense but disciplined. Incense burned in braziers, the air heavy with copal and anticipation, as Cuauhmecatl opened with a chant to Quetzalcoatl for wisdom.
Ehecatl rose then, his noble tilmatli flowing like blood and feathers, his voice resonant and charismatic, drawing all eyes like a storyteller unveiling destiny. "Maxixcatzin, and Tlaxcalteca. Us Nahuateca share a common language, and culture. You and I, as well as five other nahua tribes were once descendants of those from Chicomoztoc. There used to be a time where we all lived as one, and in harmony. Now? We've caused harm to each other, my people the Mexica have used you Tlaxcalans as nothing more than a stepping stone, cattle for slaughter, target practices for eventual wars in the flower wars. We've kept you encircled, in a constant state of war, and have kept you weak for decades, and likewise when you were given the opportunity to hurt us you did so. You've killed, beaten and enslaved Mexica men and boys while raping our women, looted our homes and inflicted the worst on us. However, as much as we both are wrong there is something else to discuss here, who the real enemy are. It is those who aren't of nahua origin, primarily the Caxtilteca, but anyone in general who isn't nahua. Just in this land alone there are plenty of others who speak a different language, have a different culture and have different gods, BUT… if we were to become as one there's no one who'd stop us in the land, and it's just this land alone. There are six other great lands with plenty of people who look different, speak different, live different, worship different. They are all the true enemies, not us against you, nor you against us. I've seen you rape Mexica women, traumatized them, hurt Mexica babies and children, beat the men… but even then… I'm willing to forgive you if your people could do the same for us. It's why we're meeting here in Cholula so that they may oversee our healing process should both parties agree, and if you go back to meet your lords in your council and should they agree? You wouldn't be subordinates or tributaries, you'd have a spot in our circle. Treated as an equal, AND… help us create a world in this new sixth sun, where not just Cemenahuac, but all of the Chiconahaucs would know that the Nahuateca dominates the world."
The hall fell silent, the words hanging like copal smoke, Maxixcatzin's scarred face unreadable as the envoys exchanged glances, the weight of forgiveness and unity pressing on them amid the pyramid's shadow. Cuauhmecatl nodded approvingly, his priests murmuring prayers, while the Yaoquizque Tlapixque stood vigilant, the fate of empires balancing on the Tlaxcalans' response.
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Maxixcatzin sat motionless for a long moment after Ehecatl's words faded into the tecpan's incense-heavy air, his scarred face a mask of stone, eyes narrowed like a warrior sizing up an old foe across a flower war field. The hall's murmurs died to silence, the Tlaxcalan envoys shifting uneasily beside him, their hands twitching toward sword hilts as if the speech's offer of forgiveness carried the sting of a hidden blade. Cuauhmecatl and his priests leaned forward, their bone masks casting eerie shadows, while the Yaoquizque Tlapixque stood vigilant, their spiraled uniforms a silent promise of thunder if talks turned sour.
The grizzled envoy's breath came slow and measured, his fingers drumming once on the reed mat before he rose, his feathered tilmatli rustling like dry leaves in a storm.
"Ehecatl, Cihuacoatl of the Mexica,"
he began, his voice gravelly, laced with the raw weight of decades of enmity, yet cracking with a flicker of reluctant respect. "You speak of shared blood from Chicomoztoc, of harmony long shattered. Aye, we've bled each other dry—the Mexica encircling us like serpents, flower wars turning our sons into your sacrifices, our fields barren from your sieges. And when the Caxtilteca came, we seized our chance. Your women ravaged, your men broken, your temples looted. Vengeance tasted sweet… but bitter now, in the shadow of what you've done."
He paused, his eyes locking on Ehecatl's with a piercing intensity, the scars on his face twisting as emotion surged. A pride warring with the ache of lost kin, suspicion clashing with the allure of unity. "The true enemies? The Caxtilteca, yes their god is a poison, their steel a curse. And beyond, those other tongues, other gods… six lands ripe for the taking. Your words stir the blood, Cihuacoatl. Forgiveness for horrors, a seat as equals, not tributaries. Tlaxcala bows to no one, but… alliance? A Nahua fist to crush the world? It tempts."
Maxixcatzin's voice dropped, raw with the weight of his people's scars, tears glinting unshed in his eyes as he extended a scarred hand. "We'll carry your offer to our council with no rash words here. But know this, if we agree it's not from weakness, but vision. The Sixth Sun could dawn brighter together… or burn us all if betrayed."
The hall tensed, the envoys' breaths held, Cuauhmecatl nodding approvingly as the fate of empires hung on the Tlaxcalans' deliberation, the pyramid's shadow looming like a silent judge.
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Ehecatl met Maxixcatzin's extended hand with a firm clasp, his charismatic gaze holding the Tlaxcalan envoy's scarred eyes steady, the hall's tension easing slightly as murmurs rippled through the assembled priests, warriors, and envoys. Cuauhmecatl nodded approvingly from the side, his bone mask casting long shadows in the torchlight, while the Yaoquizque Tlapixque stood vigilant, their spiraled uniforms a silent reminder of Mexica might.
"Then I'm glad it's from a place of vision," Ehecatl replied, his voice resonant and warm, drawing the room in with that magnetic pull, "because we need people who prefer long-term gains over short-term. Indeed, this will only work if we work together and not betray each other. This will be easier said than done, but again, I'm willing to place my own life for this should it work. Also, as a sign of trust, I'd like for you to request to your lords the hand over of the remaining 20 Caxtilteca. In addition I've received a girl from a pochteca who became my maid. She was victim to a raid from your people, as she, her mother and sisters were taken. They lived in Acatzinco, and if you were to find the fate of the mothers and sisters, In exchange, you'd be given preferable access to our growing iron and steel trade, as well as our grenades should this alliance come to be."
Maxixcatzin's grip tightened briefly, his expression unreadable but his nod slow and thoughtful, the weight of the offer hanging in the incense-thick air. The Tlaxcalan warriors shifted, hands loosening from sword hilts, while Cuauhmecatl's priests murmured prayers of unity under their breath. Ehecatl released the clasp, stepping back with a gesture toward the tecpan's doors. "Words are wind, Maxixcatzin. Come and let me show you the strength we offer. Outside, my guardians await."
The groups rose as one, filing out into the midday sun that bathed the plaza in golden light, the Great Pyramid looming like a divine witness in the distance. The Yaoquizque Tlapixque stood in disciplined ranks, fifty strong, their black-and-white spiraled uniforms swirling like battle storms, helmets crested with Huaxtec cones, macuahuitls and swords at their hips, grenades bulging in belts like promises of destruction. Cuetlachtli barked a command, his fanatic voice booming of "Demonstrate loyalty!"
The guardians moved with precision as a first volley of grenades lobbed at straw dummies, exploding in thunderous flashes that shredded the targets into mist and splinters, the ground trembling under the force. Then arquebuses cracked in the three-line formation: the first rank firing in unison, kneeling to reload as the second stepped forward with disciplined grace, their shots piercing distant shields with deadly accuracy; the third prepared, rotating seamlessly to keep the barrage constant. Swords clashed in mock combat, the steel ringing like temple bells, while a squad demonstrated horseback charges, the stolen beasts thundering across the plaza with riders wielding lances tipped in iron.
The Tlaxcalan envoys watched in stunned silence, Maxixcatzin's scarred face paling slightly at the display, his warriors gripping their own looted weapons tighter but with newfound wariness. Cuauhmecatl hyped the moment with a chant: "Behold the avatar's thunder—the Sixth Sun's guardians!" Ehecatl turned to Maxixcatzin, his smile charismatic and unyielding.
"This is what unity brings, Maxixcatzin. Carry it to your council, and the choice is yours." The demonstration ended with the motto echoing: "My honor is called loyalty!" The envoys departed under guard, the pyramid's shadow lengthening as the fate of empires hung in the balance.