Military Council

Red spread beneath the city walls like the deepest dye. Heads hung above the city gate, transformed into the freshest, most vivid death.

"In the eyes of the Mexica People, god-descended nobles with exalted blood are nothing more than offerings to the God of War. Then, would the sacred priests of the Holy City be any different?"

Priest Elder Weizier pressed his mouth shut and rose with a gray expression. He said nothing, and the road that followed was filled with silence.

The group passed beneath the severed heads of the Tlaxcalan god-descended and came outside the city. The view before them suddenly opened wide; mountains rose and fell in the distance, and the plains were covered in green grass. Near the city walls, however, lay the battlefield being cleared. Traces of slaughter could be seen everywhere, yet the vitality of spring was gestating amid the bustle.

Under the supervision of four or five hundred Mexica Warriors, thousands of Tlaxcalan Militia bowed their heads and worked outside the city. They had dug several enormous pits and were continuously throwing one stripped warrior corpse after another into them. It was already warm late spring; the bodies would rot quickly and had to be buried as soon as possible.

Weizier stood beside a large pit, stopped in his tracks, and silently watched for a while. Death packed dense as ants filled his eyes, then carved itself deep into his mind, sending a chill up his spine.

In this one pit alone, there were probably at least three or four thousand corpses! Even more shocking was that among these bodies were not only Moth People, lowly as grass, but also strong-built warriors and god-descended nobles tattooed with serpent patterns!

"Lowly Moth People, ordinary warriors, and exalted god-descended. All stripped bare, thrown into one