The banners flapped in the breeze as the elite samurai ascended silently, letting the mountain wind sweep across them while they watched the sun rise to mid-sky. Only when the king shook the small flag did the trusted aides halt their steps, pausing atop the hill.
Xiulote stood at the summit of the hill, surveying the surroundings. Behind him, the shield guard Ters, with a wooden expression, still held the royal banner aloft.
From the high vantage point, the world seemed to open up, broadening the king's horizons. In the long wind, the hills undulated like towering waves, continuously rising to the mountain peaks; under the sunlight, the land gradually bare, like footprints of the gods, occasionally shimmering with a faint golden light. Only a winding creek flowed tinklingly like a lively snake, tracing the path of the onlookers, converging towards Lake Zirahuen, the lowest point in the terrain.
