Blue mountains stretched like a sea, and White Snake City sat upon the hill, standing in silent stillness. The setting sun was blood-red, and outside Tree Snake City, military camps stretched one after another as warriors clamored. In the Mexica commander's great tent, a brief assassination attempt had just drawn its curtain.
Xolotl wore Bronze Armor, a Bronze Sword at his waist, his face without the slightest ripple as he sat upright at the head of the great tent.
On his left was the shadow guard Nashu, clad in leather armor and holding a long dagger. On his right was the Captain of the Warriors Ekat, wrapped in heavy armor, with a short shield and Copper Axe. Before him stood the shield guard Tercer, both hands gripping a large shield, guarding him closely. All three were fully alert, watching the entrance of the great tent, though not a drop of blood had stained them.
At that moment, a warm pool of blood was silently flowing and gathering at the entrance of the great tent. Xolotl looked at the four or five fallen young female corpses by the tent flap, and at the slender, sharp copper needles in their hands. He shook his head and sighed in a low, drifting voice.
"Their figures were graceful, their bearing beautiful; every frown and smile could move the heart... noblewomen of the Tlaxcalan, calling themselves envoys, yet so eager to draw near, wanting to be assassins while lacking any experience in battle. Hah! Compared with her, they were far, far short after all!"
Hearing the emotion hidden in the king's words, Nashu's brows lifted slightly. Without changing expression, she straightened her chest a little, revealing a stirring curve. Then she reached out and touched the perfectly slight swell of her belly beneath that curve,