Death in Shuigu City

Embers burned within Shuigu City, sending up wisps of black smoke. On the temple pyramid at the city's center, bloodstains had not yet dried. This was the end of the Tlaxcalan Warriors' final resistance. Around the pyramid, in the mansions of those hereditary nobles, ax cuts and cudgel marks were everywhere, along with fallen male corpses.

The main road running through the city was split into two stretches of different colors. One was charred black after being burned by fierce fire; the other was dark red after blood had congealed. And between the two ends lay broken spears, bent Feathered Arrows, shattered leather armor, and severed limbs that had not yet been cleaned away.

All around was a deathly silence, broken now and then by distant shouts. After who knew how long, a small squad of a dozen or so warriors appeared from the north side of the main road and slowly headed south. Leading them was a Mexica Warrior captain, followed by three or four Purepecha Warriors, and behind them six or seven lightly armed Dog-kin fighters.

At the very center of the group was a thin old man wearing a feathered crown and draped in splendid robes. He was protected in the middle by the dozen warriors, yet also faintly escorted as a prisoner. He gazed at the postwar sights along the way, his eyes passing over familiar buildings that no longer looked anything like they did in his memories. He thought of Shuigu City's former prosperity, and unease and fear surged into his heart, turning only into a soundless sigh at his lips.

"Savage Mexica barbarians!"

"Respected Priest Elder Weizier, this way!"

The Mexica Warrior captain looked respectful. He turned sideways and pointed in another direction.

"When the city fell, there was a battle on the road