The priests' palace complex is divided into two levels. On the lower level, the guards wear bestial helmets and yellow robes, adorned with Jaguar and Eagle attire. Assistant priests (acolytes) are dressed in plain-colored cloaks or vests, carrying wooden boards painted with various images.
The three of them climb the granite steps up to the second level of the palace complex. As they pass by a particularly tall temple, Xiulote vaguely hears heated arguments from within. He can make out the words "war" and "Otomi people" among the voices.
At the temple entrance, a giant multicolored cloth banner flutTetlsi overhead. In the center of the banner sits a towering figure holding aloft a scepter and shield, head raised proudly—the Sun God, War God, and Guardian Deity of the Mexica, Huitzilopochtli, the principal god of the Mexica Alliance. Lush green feathers extend from the deity's back, radiating outward like the sun.
Standing beside the temple doors are two guards wearing wolf-headed helms and black robes.
One of them casts a questioning look at Akapu. Akapu gestures toward Aoloxi and Xiulote, then points to the right. The guard nods in acknowledgment and, through the open jaws of his wolf helm, flashes Xiulote a "grimly ferocious" smile. Xiulote rolls his eyes. Next to him, Aoloxi seems lost in thought, preoccupied with who knows what.
Akapu then leads the two of them to the right. In a low voice, Xiulote asks, "What are the high priests discussing in the main temple?"
"You'll find out shortly," Akapu replies with a faint smile, giving no further explanation—apparently now burdened by his own concerns as well.
Before long, they arrive at a side temple. Like the main hall, this entrance also has a massive cloth banner, depicting a deity with humanlike but dog-shaped features, both arms raised toward the sky. It has a bright red tongue, jet-black plumage, and an imposing headpiece, as though it might leap at any moment from its crimson divine throne.
This is the God of Thunder and Death, the Night Star who escorts the sun—Xolotl—the twin brother of the Feathered Serpent God.
The guards at the side temple are much friendlier. "Xiulote, back already? How was this hunt? Did you get blood on your hands? Any captives?"
Xiulote gives a few nods, then shakes his head, remaining silent as he follows Akapu inside.
Upon entering, they are greeted by a low stone table with a wooden board placed on top. A man in his thirties—burly, sitting cross-legged on the ground—wears a brightly painted red robe, a headdress of dark-green feathers, and silver wrist guards. Holding a wooden stylus tipped with sturdy bristles made from hair, he dips it into black pigment. On the wooden board, he's simultaneously writing and drawing two symbols.
Xiulote steps closer and sees that the first square symbol at the front represents a shield and a club, while the second is a body wrapped in a white cloth. Having studied writing with this man, Xiulote recognizes these pictographs to mean "war" and "death."
The man lifts his head, revealing sharply defined features and a resolute expression. He has thick eyebrows, a high-bridged nose, and an air of confidence. His keen gaze falls on Xiulote first, and he smiles slightly. Then he looks at Akapu and nods, before turning to Aoloxi. Suddenly, he bursts out laughing.
"Welcome back, my warrior! And welcome to you as well, my son! Your timing is perfect." Rising to his feet, revealing his tall, muscular frame, he spreads his arms wide in greeting. "War is about to begin!"
"Great news, Commander Xusok! When does it start? Who are we fighting?" Aoloxi raises an arm in salute, equal parts excitement and surprise.
"A few days ago, a messenger arrived from Tenochtitlan bringing orders from the newly enthroned Tlatoani. The King wants us to begin mobilization. Next month, the Coronation War will commence, targeting the Otomi people in the northwest—on the grounds that the Otomi refuse to pay tribute to the Alliance."
Xusok and Aoloxi clasp arms in greeting. Then he asks, "How did the captive hunt go this time?"
"I led Xiulote and some new recruits to patrol around the Huastecs in the north. We captured a few dozen dog-like wild folk. The Huastec still show reasonable obedience, and they have enough food for the moment. It looks like things in the northeast won't stir up trouble anytime soon."
Aoloxi thinks for a moment, then adds, "Xiulote's physical abilities and combat skills are decent. On this mission, he took down a nearly trained warrior. The only issue is that he has way too many questions—he wants to know everything."
At that, Aoloxi makes a pained face. "Some of those numbers and principles—how can a mere warrior like me possibly explain all that?"
"Hah! He's managed to stump my number-one warrior. Looks like the kid has come quite a long way." Laughing, Xusok gives Xiulote a good pat on the head—ouch, that hurts a bit.
"Is the city-state going to send troops this time? How many?" Xiulote asks.
"Of course. As kin to the King, our city-state will certainly dispatch forces in support. The priestly elders have been discussing the exact number to send all morning. We should know once the High Priest returns. But the King has announced that Tenochtitlan will mobilize three elite Xiquipilli—each an eight-thousand-man battalion. Texcoco and Tlacopan will each mobilize one elite battalion. Then the village-states under the three main cities will mobilize five commoner battalions."
"So the Three Cities of the capital—combined—will mobilize a total of ten eight-thousand-man battalions? That's eighty thousand men?" Xiulote gasps. Eighty thousand warriors?
"Wow, Xiulote really nailed that calculation," Aoloxi says in mild astonishment. "Mobilizing a hundred thousand troops when the rainy season is on the horizon, sending them north to gnaw away at the Otomi's mountain fortresses? That doesn't sound like a sound plan."
"Indeed." Xusok's smile fades as he nods slowly. "Down south, the city-states of Salko can at least mobilize two battalions, while Huatztepec and Cuauhnahuac can each field one. Huey Puehtlan to the north can supply two nearby battalions. To the west, Tepanicapan, Tollocan, and Lazico can muster a combined four. The eastern front has to remain vigilant against Tlaxcala, so that side can't move. All in all, that's likely twenty eight-thousand-man battalions."
"That main theater of war should be no cause for worry. Even if all the Otomi city-states band together, they can only muster maybe ten battalions, and their combat effectiveness can't compare to our elite warrior battalions." Confidently thumping his chest, Aoloxi adds, "But twenty battalions will require at least a hundred thousand porTetlsi. And during the humid rainy season, the daily food supply is beyond calculation. The Otomi villages up north have always been poor, so there's nothing to plunder for provisions. If the Otomi just hole up in their city-states and refuse to come out, the fighting will drag on indefinitely. That's a real headache."
"That's precisely my concern," Xusok says, seemingly out of habit giving Xiulote's face a pinch—yeah, that hurts too. "However, there's not much justification or benefit in attacking the Huastec in the northeast right now—they pay plenty of tribute, and the southern Tri-City Alliance is currently obedient enough. But they're all interconnected. Throwing one stone could create ripples in that entire pond.
"The Tarascan people in the west are formidable—we were defeated by them two years ago. As for Tlaxcala in the east, let's not even mention it. If we wanted to fight them, it'd be a full mobilization, and we're not ready for that. So, after weighing everything, the King seems to have settled on the weaker Otomi in the north."
"In the end, it's picking on the weak and fearing the strong." Aoloxi grumbles discontentedly. "How can the King not have the heart of a true warrior?"
After a moment, Aoloxi lowers his voice. "The new King's prestige hasn't been firmly established yet. If he chose to fight the sworn enemy Tlaxcala or the mighty Tarascans—even if the Mexica were to lose—nobody would hold it against him. But if he goes after the poor but cunning Otomi, there's not much in it for us. Let's say he wins but doesn't seize much loot; people will still complain. Worse yet if he somehow loses."
Xusok grins in agreement. "Aoloxi, you've got talent. You could easily command an elite eight-thousand-man warrior battalion of your own."
"Unfortunately, we don't have eight thousand warriors in our city-state." Aoloxi laughs heartily.
"You will someday—I guarantee it!" The two of them exchange looks and burst into peals of laughter.
Xiulote, rapt in listening, suddenly notices Akapu reenter from outside the hall. Who knows when he left?
Smiling softly, Akapu says quietly, "Commander, the High Priest has just finished the meeting and is on his way here now."