Blood & Fur

Chapter Twenty: The War of the Flowers

“Witchcraft?”

A mocking rattle echoed through the Reliquary, deep and scornful. I didn’t like it. There were few things as disturbing as laughing skulls. A good chunk of my predecessors appeared to find Necahual’s demand terribly amusing.

The rest… far less so.

“Magic is a blessing, not an art,” the grimmer skulls said dismissively. “One must be born with the aptitude before they can learn anything. Try as she may, this Necahual will never become a Nahualli. It simply cannot be done.”

I feared as much. If becoming a sorcerer was easy, spellcasting traditions would have spread far and wide by now. I still didn’t understand why Necahual even asked me to teach her; I thought her encounter with my mother had instilled in her a visceral disgust for anything magical.

“She will not take that answer well,” I muttered. Necahual had appeared strangely determined.

“Then perhaps you should just get rid of her,” my predecessors suggested. “This Necahual already knows too much to our liking. She is a security risk.”

“I will not kill her,” I replied. Besides the fact I needed allies, Eztli would never forgive me for it. “I believe she will understand if I tell her the truth.”

My first instinct was to tell Necahual of the Day of the Dead and induct her into Queen Mictecacihuatl’s priesthood. Then she could touch the divine, albeit briefly.

“We hope she will listen,” my predecessors said without really believing it. “But heed our warning. Mortals rarely react well to being denied their heart’s desire. At best, she might try to fruitlessly learn on her own, wasting her time and bringing attention upon her; at worst, she will accuse you of keeping secrets from her and blackmail you. Watch her carefully.”

I nodded in agreement and prepared to move on to more pressing matters when a small voice broke ranks with the Parliament.

“If I may…” a particular skull bulged out of the pillar, its empty eyes radiating an otherworldly light. “What is this Necahual’s day sign?”

“Her full name is Necahual Ce Quiahuitl,” I answered with a frown. What did her day sign have to do with the matter at hand?

“Ce Quiahuitl,” a hundred dead emperors whispered as one. “The first day of the Rain Month. No wonder she turned to herbalism, her day sign blesses the soothsayers and bewitchers.”

“The First Day of Rain carries its curses too,” the lone skull said with a content tone. “She could become a Mometzcopinque.”

The word did not mean anything to me, though the other skulls appeared to recognize it. “Doubtful,” the other emperors argued back. “If she had a patron’s eye, it would have already manifested.”

“Is one not standing before us?” the dissenting skull replied while gazing at me. “With the embers of divinity within him… our successor would count for the ritual.”

I straightened up as my predecessors started whispering among each other so quickly that I only grasped a few tidbits. “It could be…” “Would she even agree to it?” “The risks…” “The rewards…”

I waited for the dead emperors to reach a consensus, which eventually, they did.

“Listen well, Iztac Ce Ehecatl,” the skulls whispered, none louder than the previous dissenter. “This Necahual will never become a true sorceress nor wield magic of her own. However… this does not mean she cannot borrow it.”

“Borrow magic?” I almost asked ‘from whom,’ until I connected the dots. “From me?”

“Possibly.” Hundreds of hollow gazes stared at my chest. “Absorbing the Fourth Sun’s embers into your Teyolia has granted you a spark of divinity. Whether it will be enough to sustain the ritual we have in mind remains to be seen.”

That… that was strange. Sharing my magic around would let me recruit powerful allies. I would have expected the Parliament of Skulls to mention the option earlier. The fact they hadn’t meant that it carried downsides.

“Would sharing my power diminish it?” I asked. This seemed the most likely explanation to me.

“Somewhat,” my predecessors confirmed. “There are paths for individuals eager to embrace the supernatural. Costly, lesser paths, but paths nonetheless. Becoming a Mometzcopinque is one of them. It is a dark road open only to women born on specific day signs.”

Requirements which Necahual appeared to fit, from what I understood. “Magic always carries a cost,” I pointed out.

“One paid to you, our successor,” the skulls replied. “To become a Mometzcopinque, a would-be witch must find a patron willing to sponsor their ascension. Usually, this patron is either a god or a spirit seeking to expand their influence in the living world. Once a pact is formed, the witch and patron partake in a ritual that transforms the former into a Mometzcopinque.”

“What would this transformation mean for Necahual?”

“She will gain unique powers,” the Parliament explained. “She will be able to transform her arms into wings and her feet into sharp talons at will. Her nails will cut through stone. Her hands will carry the strength of ten men, and flames will fall from the sky at her command to set her foes alight. She will become a fearsome creature that can rival the Nightkin in strength, but one that can walk undetected in the sun.”

“But she will never equal the Nightlords,” I guessed. Still, this sounded like a useful transformation, especially if Necahual could still hide in plain sight. “What is the catch?”

“It is twofold. First of all, most patrons request their new servant to kill in their name in return for their sponsorship, such as blood sacrifices. Most Mometzcopinques were feared as childkillers or slayers of men.”

“A requirement I can waive, I hope.” Otherwise, Necahual would become no better than a Nightkin.

“Yes, but the pact’s true price is much greater.” The Reliquary’s darkness only thickened. “A Mometzcopinque sells their soul to their patron.”

My fists clenched on their own.

“The Mometzcopinque ritual involves tying the witch’s Teyolia to their patron’s through a bond that only death alone can break,” the Parliament explained grimly. “The patron’s heart-fire will fuel the witch’s transformations, but from that moment on her life is borrowed. If the patron decides to take back their gift at any point, or perishes on their own, their inner fire will waste away to nothing.”

Now I understood why few spirits offered that deal. “This is no different than slavery,” I said, somewhat unsettled. “No… this is worse. There is no escape other than death.”

It was no different from how the Nightlords recruited followers. They promised foolish mortals power and immortality, bribing them with eternal youth and respect while shackling their souls as they did with mine. They used their magic to own people, body and soul. Turning Necahual into Mometzcopinque would be just transforming her into a Nightkin; one that answered to me and could walk in the daylight.

I couldn’t walk down the same path.

“You said it yourself, our successor. The greater the magic, the greater the cost.” The skulls let out a grim rattle. “Of course, nothing prevents you from letting this Necahual do as she wishes. You can offer her power and then loosen the leash around her neck until you both forget that it exists.”

“But it will never go away.” Besides the fact that enslaving another human being in such an intimate, permanent way disturbed me, I doubted Necahual would agree to it. The man she distrusted would hold her life in his hands until his own death. “This… is there no other alternative?”

“None that we know off,” the Parliament replied. “Not all mortals are meant to dance with the gods, Iztac Ce Ehecatl. Most fade away in the shadow of brighter stars.”

Quite cruel words, but they sadly described Necahual’s life quite well. She had lost the love of her life to my mother, her daughter and husband to a vampire, and even her freedom to me… I wondered if her desire to learn witchcraft was an attempt to step into the light she envied so much.

Will she accept her place or grasp for more? I wondered. I would have expected the first, but then again, I would have never guessed Necahual would change her mind about magic. She still had the ability to surprise me.

“Let us speak of other things, my predecessors,” I said. Necahual was a minor issue for now, and I had more pressing matters to deal with. “What of the Mallquis? How should I handle it?”

“Our priority should be to identify the Mallquis’ identity first and foremost,” the Parliament decided. “So long as they remain hidden, they hold an advantage. We doubt they will inform the Nightlords of your status as a Tlacatecolotl, but so long as the Mallquis remains unaccounted for, that information might make its way back to our tormentors.”

That was what I dreaded most. If the Mallquis shared the truth with Sapa officials, Yohuachancan spies might stumble upon it by complete accident and report back to the Nightlords. I needed to establish contact with the Mallquis as soon as possible, if only to ensure that they would keep my secret to themselves.

“Should I consult the Yaotzin?” I asked.

“You can try, but we doubt it will suffice,” my predecessors replied, as I feared. As I had seen with the Nightlords, powerful sorcerers can shield their secrets from the wind of chaos. “However, we have pondered more… mundane ways to identify them. Have you heard of the Ayllus, our successor?”

“I have indeed.” I happened upon the name when I did research on the Sapa Empire. “They are groups of families, whether bound by blood or marriage, that make up most of the Sapa Empire’s population. They are very similar to our own Calpulli.”

“Good,” the Parliament complimented me. “Most Ayllus can trace back their existence to a common ancestor, an Apu. Since the Sapa people share a deep bond with the mountains in which they live, an Apu’s existence is often confused with the spirit of the mountain where they were born and buried.”

I immediately caught on. “You suspect the Mallquis to be one of these Apus?”

“We find it plausible,” the skulls replied. “Apus receive worship from the communities that occupy their mountains. This would provide ample faith to sustain an ambitious Mallquis.”

I pondered this for a while and quickly realized I had a potential lead.

“The tablet’s spells were carved into its very stone,” I muttered to myself. “If I can find which mountain quarry it came from, or where it was carved, then the local Apu will likely be the sorcerer that enchanted it in the first place.”

“Your wits have sharpened, our successor.” My predecessors sounded genuinely pleased. “You are learning quickly.”

“Only thanks to your guidance,” I replied, though I did appreciate the compliment. “I will interrogate the ambassadors. Mayhaps they possess the information, or at least a lead.”

It might take time, but once I had identified the Apu I could see how to establish direct communication with them. I still hoped to negotiate… if not an alliance, then at least a non-aggression agreement of some kind. Since the Mallquis’ existence relied on that of their Ayllu, I could perhaps trade the latter’s safety for their assistance. For now, I could only gather information.

After discussing the Sapa situation at length, the Parliament of Skulls gave me a list of the generals involved in Nochtli the Fourteen’s failed coup. I couldn’t tell yet which of them had perished or been replaced since, but I would soon confirm that once they reached the capital.

I left the Reliquary with a great deal of information and my predecessors’ blessing. Tezozomoc and my mother-in-law were waiting for me outside alongside my silent guards.

“Did your morning meditation grant you enlightenment, Your Imperial Majesty?” Tezozomoc asked courteously.

“Somewhat,” I replied evasively before turning to my mother-in-law. “You will follow me all day long, Necahual. If I am to train my body, I might need a healer on hand.”

Necahual bowed dutifully. She understood I meant to talk with her in private once we found the opportunity. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

My eyes wandered to her hands, joined together in suppressed anxiety. I had told her I would consider her request after my morning meditation, so she likely expected an answer soon. If she knew the price to pay for power, I doubted she would be so eager to hear from me.

I shrugged and walked away with my followers in tow. As promised, Tezozomoc had set up a meeting with Chikal and other war advisors in my council room. The latter turned out to be the leaders of Yohuachanca’s four major warrior societies: the Nightflowers, the Jaguar Warriors, the Eagle Knights, and the infamous Shorn Ones.

While over sixty generals oversaw Yohuachanca’s vast army, military fraternities transcended the frontiers between platoons. The men that waited for me in the council room represented the elite of my troops and never left the capital. They would form the backbone of the Sapa campaign.

“Lord Emperor.” Chikal welcomed me with a deep bow. She had come dressed for battle, as usual. I wondered if she ever let go of her cotton armor. “I am relieved to see you safe and sound.”

“I see you have been informed of last night’s treacherous attack, Chikal,” I said while sitting on a cushion. Everyone else in the room bowed and avoided my gaze. “Let’s not mince words. We are now at war with the Sapa Empire.”

Chikal nodded slowly, her eyes squinting at me. Was that a hint of suspicion I detected in her gaze? It was true I had pushed for a conflict with the Sapa Empire for a while…

Chikal remained by far the most enigmatic of my four consorts. Nenetl was about as transparent and innocent as a young woman could be; Ingrid was a social climber dedicated to strengthening her family’s influence; and Eztli… Eztli was a tortured soul. I would go as far as to say that I had come to understand all of them, that I had gotten a solid grasp of their personalities and aspirations. I even shared intimate moments with each of them.

Chikal, however, had never once lowered her guard since the moment I met her. I knew her history as a conquered queen, who had betrayed a sister city for the sake of her own people, but I wasn’t certain which conclusions she had drawn from the experience. Had she given up on fighting back against the Nightlords, like Lady Sigrun? Or did she secretly hold the small hope of overthrowing them once the stars aligned in her favor?

I needed to obtain answers to these questions, one way or another.

“I vow to assist my Lord Emperor in the battles to come,” Chikal replied dutifully after correcting her expression. “As do the men behind me.”

Four soldiers knelt behind Chikal. I appraised them carefully. All of them were taller than me, though not nearly as much as my monstrous guards.

The largest and most muscled of them belonged to the Shorn Ones, as his unique appearance indicated. Much like every member of his elite order, his head was completely shaved apart from a long braid falling over his left ear. The right side of his fearsome face was painted blue, the other red. His war costume was laced with gold and blue feathers. Every single patch of his exposed skin bore a battle scar. All Shorn Ones swore never to take a step backward on the pain of death, even when faced with enemy blades.

I recognized the Eagle Warrior and the Jaguar Knight from their attire: the former wore exotic padded armor adorned with feathers, and the other with jaguar fur. Otherwise, they couldn’t be any more different. The Eagle Warrior was a lithe, handsome young man around ten years older than me, with a calm, placid expression. The Jaguar Knight, though muscular, was getting on in his years. His hair was streaked with gray and his face was wrinkled by old scars. Still, his warm smile made him appear less intimidating than expected.

I distrusted the fourth man the moment I met his eyes. The crimson hue marked him as a thrall to the Nightlords. He was more gaunt than his fellows, but his long black hair and fearsome face made him appear more threatening nonetheless. He alone went shirtless, though he wore a crown of flowers and pants of maguey fibers.

“Introduce yourself to your emperor,” Tezozomoc ordered on my behalf.

“I am Patli, Grandmaster of the Nightflowers,” the man with the flower crown said. His voice was deeper than a cavern and his tone unyielding. “I swear to you that no foe will harm you on my watch.”

The Shorn One slammed his fist against his chest. “Coaxoch’s blade stands ready, Your Majesty.”

“My parents gifted me the name of Amoxtli, Lord Emperor,” the Jaguar Knight said with a warm smile that did not reach the eyes. “I have served twenty of your predecessors. I hope you shall find no complaints with my service.”

The Eagle Warrior, as the youngest, dutifully introduced himself last. “This one’s name is Cuauhteztli, oh Great Lord of the Universe. Your will is my command.”

None of them have been replaced, I thought, which pleased me greatly. The Parliament of Skulls had given me extensive details on each of these men and their allegiances.

Patli, as befitting of an order meant to protect the emperor and generals on behalf of the Nightlords, placed his loyalty in his false gods. Nochtli the Fourteenth spent most of his reign plotting around the man’s gaze. I could trust him to protect me from outside threats and assassinations, but he would report any treachery to his vampiric masters.

Coaxoch was a wild card. A brute who cared little for politics and allegiances. The Shorn Ones made a vow never to retreat from battle and the man lived up to it. He lived for battle and mayhem. The enemy’s identity did not matter, so long as the blood flowed. However, the man fought for the strongest side. He had promised Nochtli his support in the coup if the latter managed to slay the Bird of War in battle; a trade my predecessor failed to deliver on.

Amoxtli had secretly supported Nochtli’s coup. The man was getting on his years, but the Nightlords had refused him the kiss of immortality. Being denied the opportunity to recapture his vigorous youth had left him bitter and resentful toward the empire’s undead masters. Nochtli never fully trusted him, since he was liable to turn his cloak if the vampires changed their minds, but he could make a powerful ally if well-cajoled.

Finally, Cuauhteztli was neither a schemer nor a brute, but an earnest man who followed his duties. Though his order worshiped the Bird of War, he was equally dedicated to following the current emperor’s orders. His loyalty between his distant god and his yearly commander-in-chief had yet to be tested.

I’m not going to run a military coup with these four anytime soon, I thought. But I can lay the groundwork. And for that, I need to start with a good impression.

“Tezozomoc informed me that each of you leads our nation’s elite military orders,” I said respectfully. The four men nodded. “It pleases me to have mighty warriors at my side. You may sit.”

By now, playing the authoritative emperor came… I wouldn’t say naturally, but easily enough. Facing the Underworld’s dangers and the Nightlords’ madness had burned away what little fear I may have had of my fellow man. The key was to act like King Mictlantecuhtli: to speak with the voice of an ancient mountain who stood above mortal concerns. A god who didn’t expect to be obeyed, but knew others would bow before his power and wisdom.

My advisors all sat around me, with Tezozomoc and Chikal each taking a place at my side. I ordered Necahual to serve them drinks

“Though we have restrained the treacherous Sapa ambassadors, it is only a matter of time before word of their plot’s failure reaches their superiors,” I declared. In all likelihood, the Mallquis had already warned his fellows. “I wish to strike them as soon as the New Fire Ceremony concludes, before they have time to organize. How many men can we mobilize within that timespan?”

This question was a ploy. Chikal had already given me a rundown of the empire’s military forces yesterday, so I knew exactly how many soldiers I could call upon in the short and long term. My goal was to gauge my generals’ personalities, and see which of them had fire in their veins and who preferred caution to bravery.

“The four fraternities always stand ready to march at any time, Your Majesty,” Coaxoch answered immediately. “Ten xiquipilli platoons protect the capital’s region too. If the goddesses smile on us, Your Majesty may lead a hundred thousand men on the new year’s dawn.”

“Our Lord Emperor may not need such a force,” Amoxtli argued, more calmly. “Fifty thousand other soldiers currently man our southern frontier. While their standing orders are to keep the border free of invaders, they can move into Sapa territory at any time.”

Patli snorted. “Fifty thousand men spread across leagues upon leagues of jungles and mountains won’t go far, Amoxtli. They can raid the frontier, but not expand it.”

“Do we truly need a decisive push?” Amoxtli wondered. He turned his head in my direction while carefully avoiding my gaze. “What are your objectives for this campaign, Lord Emperor?”

“My goal, as ordained by the heavens, is the complete and utter subjugation of the entire Sapa Empire.” A short silence followed my bold declaration, which I swiftly broke. “Though the goddesses might claim my heart before I see this day, it is up to me to lay the foundations for this great victory.”

“A tall order,” Amoxtli commented with slight skepticism.

“A glorious order,” Coaxoch replied with more enthusiasm. “The mountain people will make for fine sacrifices.”

Patli nodded sharply. “If the goddesses command it, it shall be done.”

Only one of the four had yet to speak. Cuauhteztli kept his arms crossed, his mind in deep meditation. As he was the youngest of the generals present and represented the least prestigious of the main fraternities, I wondered if he preferred to let his colleagues take the lead. That, or he remained cautious.

I forced him out of his comfort zone. “What is your opinion, Cuauhteztli?”

The eagle warrior cleared his threat. “Oh great lord, would you allow me to suggest an alternative?” When I offered him a sharp nod, the man gained a bit more confidence. “Why not challenge the Sapa Empire to a series of Flower Wars?”

Flower Wars? My thoughts briefly wandered to Yoloxochitl’s garden, until I remembered where I had heard the term before.

Flower Wars were an archaic form of warfare where enemies agreed to meet in battle at a preselected place and time. Soldiers would wage duels not to kill, but to capture their foe; usually for the purpose of human sacrifices. The Nightlords invented the practice after a terrible famine slew so many soldiers that a conventional war against neighboring countries had become infeasible in the short term.

“What purpose would it serve?” I asked, slightly confused.

“We will not conquer the Sapa Empire in a year,” Cuauhteztli said. “Their mountains form a natural fortress. To win, we must destroy their spirits by showcasing our martial prowess. The Sapa will have no choice but to accept the conflict or appear as cowards.”

Amoxtli quickly voiced his support. “I agree with the proposal. Our numbers dwarf those of the Sapa people. Losses in manpower will affect them more sharply than us. Hence our best bet is to bleed them out of their best warriors, then make a decisive push. This strategy worked against the Yucan Empire.”

“After sixty years of attrition,” Tezozomoc pointed out. “While the Sapa Empire would likely agree to this proposal to avoid a conventional war, I doubt the goddess will accept such half-measures.”

“Flower Wars will bring honor to a few and blood for the goddesses, but our soldiers fight for spoils,” Coaxoch grunted in disdain. “For gold, for land, for women. We can only earn those by marching on cities.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?” Amoxtli argued. “Not only are their cities well-fortified; but as Cuauhteztli pointed out so keenly, the mountains will make any progress long and untenable.”

“The mountains will not protect the Sapa from the children of the night,” I said, many eyes turning at me. “The goddesses will send their spawn to fight with us.”

“If so, then victory is assured,” Patli said with a grim, terrible smile.

Amoxtli did not stand down. “Even so, we need soldiers to hold these cities. Our logistics–”

“Our men can feed themselves in the field,” Coaxoch interrupted him in his anger. “All I hear are excuses to justify your cowardice. Have the Jaguars Knights turned into ocelots while I wasn’t looking? My Shorn Ones will take those mountains alone if that’s what it takes!”

A flash of fury passed over Amoxtli’s face, though he kept it under control. “The Shorn Ones might be excellent at taking positions, but keeping and defending them are a whole other matter.”

“The goddesses wouldn’t have authorized this war if they weren’t confident in our inevitable success,” Patli argued. “If the Sapa prove difficult to convert, then we will decimate their cities. That way, we will have fewer mouths to feed.”

Cuauhteztli hesitated a moment, as if unsure if he should interrupt the argument, before powering through. “This would foster resentment,” he pointed out, correctly. “Once word comes out, other cities will fight to the death.”

Coaxoch smirked ear to ear. “And how would that be a bad thing? There is no glory in fighting cowards.”

“You Shorn Ones can only think of battle,” Amoxtli said with scorn. “His Majesty’s goal is not to exterminate, but to subjugate.”

“And our emperor will be long dead before the latter happens if he follows your cowardly ways,” Coaxoch rebuked him.

Patli nodded in support. “The goddesses prophesied that Emperor Iztac would usher in an age of glory,” he said. “The heavens favor the bold.”

Destroying your masters will undoubtedly be my most glorious moment, I thought, my fingers trembling in annoyance.

I gleaned quite a few important details from this argument. First of all, the jabs between Coaxoch and Amoxtli implied that the military fraternities did not always get along. Although they fought as part of the same army, they were rivals. Maybe I could exploit these tensions in the long run.

Moreover, while they were no doubt all excellent warriors, these four appeared relatively single-minded. None of them suggested exploiting the divisions among the Sapa Empire, unlike Chikal beforehand, nor exploiting our superior naval power to launch a surprise attack.

I supposed it made sense. Yohuachanca’s warlords and generals never truly commanded the army. They always answered to a higher authority, that of the emperor, his war consort, or the Nightlords. They had been bred for strength and discipline, not creativity. That, and it had been many decades since Yohuachanca confronted a foe it could not simply browbeat to submission through mere numbers and military superiority.

They lack imagination, I thought while glancing at Chikal. Unlike someone else in the room.

My consort hadn’t spoken a word yet, and in fact hardly seemed to pay attention to the soldiers’ dispute. Her amber eyes instead gazed at me with that same blank, unreadable look I had come to expect from her.

Just as I was gauging the soldiers, she was doing the same with me.

I smiled at her, genuinely amused by her caution. To my surprise, Chikal swiftly returned the gesture and then focused her attention back on my generals. I had the feeling she had somehow reached a certain conclusion about my person… though I couldn’t tell which one yet.

“Enough,” I said. The argument came to a screeching halt. I briefly basked in the silence, waiting for my council to focus on my words, and then spoke up again. “I have reached a decision.”

I could not settle on a standard Flower War. Not only would it hardly bleed the Nightlords’ forces, but it would result in a long conflict of attrition rather than the destructive disaster I aimed for.

However, I needed to impress my warriors if I were to earn their loyalty. Much like a Flower War was meant to showcase the empire’s strength to a conquered people, it was the opportunity for an emperor to demonstrate his prowess. I could not let the opportunity pass.

Hence, I decided to have my tortilla and eat it too.

“My consort, Chikal, proposed a bold strategy,” I explained. “To strike the Sapa Empire through their soft underbelly, the sea. We shall gather a great army, take their ports by storm under the Nightkin’s protection, and establish a foothold. Meanwhile, we will lure the Sapa’s eyes elsewhere.”

Amoxtli scowled. “How so, Your Majesty?”

“We shall offer them a Flower War to a place of our choosing to the southeast,” I said. “We will invite their best warriors to fight our own and defeat them honorably… while at the same time, the rest of our forces will strike their homeland in the back through the western sea.”

Of course, I would find a way to leak the information about the naval attack to the Sapa Empire. The Nightlords would find no smooth sailing on my watch.

“It is a bold plan, Your Divine Majesty,” Tezozomoc said, though I sensed the doubt in his voice. “But, if you forgive my worries… how can you be sure the Sapa Empire will accept the challenge and send their best troops?”

“Simple.” I smiled ear to ear. “Because I will lead our side in person.”

And with luck, I might lure the Mallquis out of hiding.

The war council ended up more productive than expected. Everyone approved my plan—or if they had doubts, they kept them to themselves—and promised to carry it through. The military brotherhoods would already start to mobilize ahead of the meeting with the empire’s other generals, which would probably take place after the New Fire Ceremony and right before the official declaration of war.

For my part, I had already detected hints of rivalries between the warrior brotherhoods. I smelled blood in the water. Cracks to exploit. I needed to assess which groups might potentially support my efforts against the Nightlords, and those that required elimination.

For now, Chikal agreed to run a sparring session to train me for the upcoming false Flower War. My palace possessed a private training yard near the garden, which was mostly used by guards in need of a workout. I had the feeling my new, silent escorts wouldn’t require as much upkeep to stay in shape.

Instead, Chikal and the amazons I added to my consorts’ protection detail had requisitioned the terrain for themselves. They had been spared from the Nightlords’ purge, though unfortunately not by virtue of their merit. While I allowed them to bear weapons, they were still officially nothing more than concubines and bed slaves. A status that many of the amazons resented, if I could trust the glares they sent me behind my back.

“Before I can help you sharpen your skills, Lord Emperor, I must see where you stand as a warrior,” Chikal declared as Necahual and other servants clothed me in traditional war cloths: splendid, gilded cotton armor adorned with blue quetzal feathers and supplemented with leather strips to protect my legs. “A true warrior understands his strengths and weaknesses.”

I draw a blank at the former, I thought to myself. I had always been deemed a failure of a warrior at school, since I lacked the strength, stature, and endurance for battle. At best I was slightly quicker than most, but not enough to dominate an opponent. A career as a lowly porter was all I could have hoped for in the military. Especially since I cannot use my magic in public.

The wind whispered encouragement into my ear. Only on the final nights will owls and bats dance in the sky.

They couldn’t come soon enough.

“I would like to see your endurance, Lord Emperor.” Chikal ordered some of her amazons to give me a carrying frame filled to the brim with bags of stone. “Can you run around the yard five times?”

I doubted I would survive one.

Or at least… That was what I believed until I put the carrying frame on my back. To my surprise, it didn’t seem so heavy. In fact, I felt light.

“Are the stones hollow?” I asked in confusion.

Chikal chuckled back in sincere amusement. “If you say that, Lord Emperor, then we haven’t put in enough of them.”

My consort had the amazons increase my burden with more bags. The carrying frame finally started to weigh on me, though not as much as I expected. I started to race around the yard, expecting to pant within five steps.

I did not fall.

I did not slow down to catch my breath. I did not stumble under the weight on my back. I did not tire out. My back remained straight, unbroken. I completed a yard turn, then another.

By the time I carried on to my third turn, Tezozomoc and a few of the amazons did not hide their fascination. Some of the latter had been glaring at me not too long ago, and now it seemed I had earned a sliver of respect.

Most telling was Necahual’s reaction. My mother-in-law understood my limits perfectly. After all, she contributed to them by denying me any meat. And here she stood on the sidelines, staring at me with a spooked expression. She struggled to believe her own eyes.

It can’t be thanks to better food alone, I thought as I completed my fourth turn. I still suffered from malnourishment a week ago. I couldn’t have caught up to experienced warriors in such a short time. It’s unusual.

No. Not unusual. Unnatural.

A heart of flames burns brighter than flesh, the wind whispered. One day, it shall turn thy bones to ashes.

My Teyolia strengthened my body.

Consuming the Fourth Sun’s embers had done more than reinforce my magic and fill my veins with divine fire. It infused my muscles with greater vitality. It made sense to me. I was walking the path of godhood. If I kept consuming the ashes of dead suns, I would soon grow stronger than any man.

Which was bound to become noticeable.

Should I slow down? For now, I hadn’t done anything truly spectacular. I wasn’t running faster than the wind or carrying a boulder with one hand. I was simply performing better than expected at a physical exercise. There could be many explanations for it. Better food, more confidence, the fact that the Nightlords’ magic had brought me back from the dead at least once and restored my stabbed heart…

I looked at Chikal. My consort was testing me as much as I assessed her. I knew she expected more from this exercise than just gauging my endurance.

I had a hard time figuring out what the amazon queen thought, since she revealed very little of herself whether in words or actions, but I had noticed her smiling at me more often. My unexpected stamina appeared to please her.

Strong men make for better tools, the wind whispered. For all men are fools in a woman’s hands.

Did Chikal think she could exchange favors for favors, as Lady Sigrun before her? Or perhaps the wind was taunting me in the hopes I would give in to my curiosity and trade more secrets with it.

In the end, I decided not to overdo it. I slowed down upon completing my fifth tour of the yard and pretended to catch my breath, though I could have easily run ten more.

“Impressive display, Lord Emperor,” Chikal complimented me. She whistled, and amazons tossed a wooden training stick to each of us “Will you allow me the honor of a spar?”

“If you wish, Chikal.” The stick felt light as a feather in my hand. “It’s about time we stop dancing around each other, don’t you think?”

Chikal’s smile turned almost predatory. “I agree.”

She charged at me without warning, closing the gap between us in an instant. She flung her weapon at my throat before I could even answer.

I barely had time to raise my weapon and parry the blow, the strike sending aftershocks traveling through my arms. Chikal was quick. Quicker than the monster I’d fought in the Underworld, and far stronger than I expected. I could feel the weight of her tightly sculpted muscles when our sticks clashed.

Moreover, an invisible pressure radiated off her. Her amber eyes had dilated like those of a jaguar on the hunt. Everything in her body language, from her expression to subtle shifts in posture, screamed danger. It was all the more startling when compared to the calm control she had shown beforehand. It was as if a wild beast had suddenly broken free of its leash.

It was a show. A practiced tactic to throw enemy warriors off their game. It might have worked on another man who had never seen battle, never tussled with death. But I did far more than that. I stared into the face of death and impressed it enough to grant me power.

So I pushed back with all my might. Chikal proved stronger than me, so she did not fall back, though I stood my ground nonetheless. A small success.

“I haven’t taken off the carrying frame yet!” I complained.

Chikal answered with another strike that sent me reeling. The weight I carried nearly threatened to send me tumbling to the ground. “Do you expect your foes to wait for their turn, Lord Emperor?”

I gritted my teeth and conceded her point. But both of us could fight dirty. I lowered my stick, grazed the ground, and threw a volley of dirt at her face.

Chikal covered her eyes with a smile, which gave me just enough time to throw the carrying frame off my back. Then I charged with all my strength and speed. Our sticks clashed and cracked with each impact and parry. Tezozomoc, Necahual, my guards… they no longer existed. Keeping Chikal’s weapon away from my throat demanded all of my attention.

Conflicting thoughts crossed my mind. Should I try to overwhelm her with all I had? Should I focus on tiring her out? Should I circle around her? All the lessons I had learned at school blurred inside my skull. Which advice should I trust?

Worse, the rush of battle started to awaken my slumbering Tonalli. I felt the owl in me threaten to lash out on instinct. I struggled not to manifest shadowy talons and tear her to shreds. The beast inside me wished nothing more than to come out and kill.

Chikal’s smile faded away, replaced with a scowl of pure anger.

I saw her. I finally saw her.

The real Chikal. The fearsome warrior queen who had hidden in plain sight under a blank mask of caution. A wild jaguar who relished the thrill of battle. The same bloodlust that motivated Coaxoch coursed through her veins… but she did not let it control her actions. She had tamed her appetite for violence, mastered it, and refined it. She wielded her wrath like a blade, unsheathing it when needed, but never letting it interfere with her self-interest.

Her furious look faded away in an instant, like a morning mirage. Her façace of self-control returned, partly. She couldn’t hide the anger in her gaze. Somehow, I had insulted her.

Our playtime ended with her kicking my ankle so hard that I collapsed. I bit my tongue so as not to scream. If I hadn’t consumed the Fourth Sun’s embers, the blow would have shattered my femur; even the leather straps around my leg failed to soften the blow. She pinned me to the ground with one hand, a knee on my arm, and her stick against my throat.

Never before had I felt the difference between a true warrior and an amateur so keenly. I never stood a chance. Not even with weapons.

And yet, when her eyes met mine, I could only see frustration within them.

“You are holding back,” Chikal accused me with a venomous tone. “Do you mean to insult me?”

I didn't mean to disrespect her, but she was right. I was holding back. My Tonalli raged within my chest, struggling to come out and defend me even when I wanted it to stay quiet. By dividing my attention between our clash and suppressing the true power within me, I had insulted Chikal’s pride as a warrior.

I noticed my guards taking a step closer at the edge of my gaze. I stopped them with a wave of my free hand. Chikal did not even glance at them.

“You win,” I conceded.

If our sticks had been made of obsidian rather than wood, Chikal would have gutted me on the spot. “Among my people, there is no greater insult than going easy on a fellow warrior,” she said with a cold, dead voice. “Do you think me beneath your concern, oh Lord Emperor?”

The title had a mocking edge to it. I suddenly realized that it had always been a hidden insult in her mind. A way to say she didn’t owe me any respect beyond those afforded to me by my station. That she respected the emperor’s office, the way the conquered had to bow before their conqueror, and not the man occupying it.

“No,” I replied, coldly. I supposed I could drop the mask too. We were finally having a heart to heart. “But I have greater concerns.”

“You want to hide your true skills from them.” Chikal’s eyes squinted. “You planned it.”

I tried to play the fool. “What are you…”

Chikal pushed her weapon closer to my throat, enough that I struggled a bit to breathe. She leaned in closer to my face, so close I felt her breath on my lips.

“The assassination attempt,” she whispered into my ear. “You set it up, somehow. You were looking for a pretext to start this war since the moment we met. So tell me.”

Chikal’s smile radiated malice.

“Why shouldn’t I turn you in, Iztac?”