The bright moon rose in the east and sank in the west. The night was at its deepest, and dawn was about to arrive. Priest Tomatl and Chief Moqi continued their unfinished conversation, and in scattered phrases and fragments, they spoke of intelligence on the northern lowland Maya. Before they knew it, day had already broken.
"The Ah Canul guardian clan's territory lies at the far western edge of the peninsula, more than a hundred li east to west and more than two hundred li north to south. The north is dry, while the south is hilly, and the population is mainly in the central region. From north to south, along a single line, there are more than a dozen small Ah Canul city-states. These city-states are each ruled by different chiefs of the clan, and all belong to the council of elders in Ceiba City. And such a loose political system means they are doomed to have difficulty gathering their full strength. Nor do they have a great chief or king who decides everything..."
Priest Tomatl took out paper and brush. Amid the bonfires along the shore, he lowered his head to record it, writing down the important assessment.
"This clan is not a single whole. Perhaps the scattered city-states within them can be dealt with separately. Furthermore, they all come from the Mexican Plateau and possess Nahua blood. They also occupy the coastal region of the western peninsula, so there is both a need and a possibility for establishing good relations with them!"
Chief Moqi looked curiously at those characters, some square, some simple sketches, as if he were looking at mysterious priestly symbols, and a trace of respect rose in his heart. Among the Putun, the divine-blood inheritance had already dissipated, and abstract writing was completely recognized