A gloomy sky shrouded the plateau, clouds piling up in the east, foretelling a shift in the weather. And beneath the overcast heavens, a fortress built of white stone stood atop a hill dozens of meters high, as if it were the very embodiment of the unbreakable.
Ancient serpent carvings wound along the city walls, all the way to White Snake Hill City above. Yet at this moment, the top of the walls was sunk in a heavy air of death. More than a thousand White Snake Warriors stood guard on the walls, yet they were so quiet there was not a sound.
The warriors defending the city seemed to have lost the desire to speak, and even the ability to speak. Their eyes were numb and empty, their faces full of death, like living corpses. The leather armor and battle garments on their bodies seemed not to have been washed in a very long time, covered with all sorts of strange bloodstains and oil marks of unknown origin.
"What an especially quiet dead city, a fortress on the verge of death."
Black Wolf's Royal Banner flew high, planted on a raised platform outside South City. The tall earthen platform stood atop a small hill, built by tens of thousands of Laborers digging and piling earth, almost level with the city wall opposite it from afar, and specifically meant for observing the state of the hill city.
At this moment, Bertad stood on the high platform, narrowing his eyes as he studied the hill city before him, which looked exceptionally solid. This was still his first time observing one of the Tlaxcalans' last two fortresses. Only after quite a while did he shake his head and speak to Xolotl beside him.
"Your Highness, this hill city has an excellent position,