Everyone fell silent and went out together to greet him.
Standing at the entrance to the hall, Xiulote saw an older man of roughly fifty approaching from ahead.
This elder possessed eyes like an eagle's; wherever his piercing gaze fell, it sent a chill through one's heart. Time had carved deep lines into his face, blending with the bright red facial markings across his stern, aloof features. Rather than making him look elderly, those markings lent him an otherworldly presence.
He wore a formal obsidian headdress that looked quite heavy. The crown was broad, and at the very front, gemstones formed a "divine visage." Two large red gems stood in for "eyes," scanning the world as he walked. Atop the crown rose a mass of half-meter-long green feathers, while the rear was densely arrayed with shorter blue feathers, spread outward like a radiant sun.
When Xiulote saw the imposing High Priest's crown, his own head began to ache in sympathy. Acapu and Aoloxi seemed as though they had been pricked by something; both lowered their heads, not daring to look directly at it.
Bathed in sunlight, the elder gradually drew near. The brilliant glow nearly dazzled Xiulote's eyes.
A red cloak hung across the man's shoulders, bordered by a ring of crimson feathers. On the cloak was a golden sun design; beneath it he wore a magnificent robe, with gold nuggets on one side and silver on the other, forming images of the sun and moon inlaid against the fabric.
An eye-catching necklace dangled from his neck, fashioned from the finest obsidian, shimmering with countless flecks of gold-like starlight. His armlets and anklets were likewise made of pure gold, flashing with every step.
Among the Mexica people, gold was not valued as currency but admired for its color—the color of the sun.
His pace was slow yet steady, as though burdened by a certain "divinity." Acapu moved forward, head lowered, intending to offer an arm in support. But the elder merely turned his head slightly and fixed him with a neutral gaze. Acapu immediately drew back and stood at attention to the side.
All present stood quietly with heads bowed until the elder walked into the side hall. Then they followed in single file, gathering behind him.
The air fell silent until the elder halted and turned around. His keen gaze fell upon Xiusok's face. At once, Xiusok lowered his head and bent slightly so he would not stand higher than the elder's line of sight.
"Xiusok, the Priestly Council has decided to mobilize a mixed force for the coronation war—eight thousand men. You will serve as commander of that force, leading them to fight for the king and for our city-state."
Aoloxi let out a small, stifled cry of excitement but promptly lowered his head again under the elder's piercing stare.
"Yes, Grand Priest. I will fight for our city-state and our king!"
Hearing this response, a barely perceptible smile crossed the elder's chiseled features. His gaze shifted briefly to Acapu and Aoloxi. "Xiusok, I need to speak with you alone."
Acapu and Aoloxi performed a gesture of respect to the gods, then quietly stepped out and shut the door behind them.
Only then did the Grand Priest Xiutel remove the obsidian crown from his head and set it slowly upon the stone table, revealing a head of white-flecked hair. It was as if he had finally taken off a weighty layer of divinity—he now breathed a little easier, and his expression grew more animated.
Xiulote stepped forward and touched the stone crown. It felt rock-hard. He tried lifting it—far heavier than he expected. Clearly it was solid stone. Being a High Priest must indeed be physically demanding; Grandfather was still in excellent shape.
Xiusok hurried over to help the elder remove his thick cloak, the hefty necklace, and the solid gold armlets. Only then could Xiulote see that beneath the imposing priestly regalia stood a wiry, weather-beaten old man.
Relieved, Xiutel sat down on the floor, his thin frame finally showing a slight stoop. He patted the space next to him, motioning for Xiulote to sit by his side, left hand resting naturally atop his grandson's head. He pulled Xiusok down to sit facing him with his right hand—one elder and two younger men, an image both solemn and intimate.
At last there were no outsiders present, and they could speak privately.
"The city-state decided to mobilize eight thousand men—ten companies in total. Half of them will be the city's elite forces, and the other half, villagers pressed into service. So that's four thousand warriors and four thousand militiamen."
"This time, I overruled the elders and had you appointed commander," the elder said, his gaze sharp as ever. "Seize this opportunity to earn enough merit in battle."
"When you return, I'll have justification to raise you from a Second-Tier Hereditary Noble to a Third-Tier Honor Noble. After a few more years, you can rightfully become a city-state administrator." The Grand Priest pronounced these arrangements as though they were set in stone.
Xiusok nodded, but a slight hesitation crossed his face. "This fight won't be easy. The Otomi people likely won't meet us head-on. The king's decision feels a bit hasty."
Xiutel nodded. "Every decision the king makes is his own responsibility. I'll send someone to speak with him, advising you to avoid pointless siege battles."
"Your job is to find the right moment for a direct clash with the Otomi. Don't fret over casualties! All I need is for you to come back, along with sufficient battle honors. Warriors are like blooming flowers: eventually, they wither somewhere. Peasants are like weeds—once they shrivel, more will sprout in their place. But you…you're the cacao tree blessed by the gods, destined to bear the duty of leading this city-state!"
Xiusok fell silent. Xiutel placed his right hand on his son's shoulder and, looking into that resolute face, spoke gently. "I know that because of your background, you've grown attached to commoners and lower-ranked warriors. You were raised by your mother, who gave you too much of a peasant's softness, while I, as a priest, couldn't properly wed and guide you in noble ways since childhood.
"But a tree and weeds can never stand at the same height. As a priest—by law—I cannot formally take a wife. Yet as one bearing the Sun God's bloodline, I must raise a tall sheltering tree for our family. You were born to shoulder the future. Go forth and fight! Victory must be watered with life.
"The city-state's warriors won't care that their commander is an illegitimate son. They only care whether you possess enough courage and whether your hands are stained with enough enemy blood!"
At last, Xiusok nodded, met his father's gaze, and answered loudly, "I will, Father!"
Meanwhile, Xiulote pretended to be a rag doll, listening from the side to teachings that clashed with his own sense of morality. He was focusing instead on the High Priest's robe—how exactly were those gold and silver nuggets attached to the cotton cloth? By touch, it seemed some intricate weaving technique plus a natural adhesive. Perhaps it could be used to make cloth armor?
Xiutel then turned his attention to the grandson at his side. "How do you plan to handle Xiulote?"
Xiusok cast a caring look at his son and replied, "Xiulote just returned from a hunt. When I head off, I was going to let him rest at home and perhaps learn some priestly knowledge from you."
Xiutel thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No. Xiulote goes with you. The priestly knowledge can wait. Once we finish tallying the results of this hunt, I'll promote him to a proper priest. Then in this upcoming war, you'll let him have a few captives. When he returns, I can then make him a Second-Tier Priest, a 'Pamitl.'"
"But Xiulote is only twelve. Becoming a Second-Tier Priest at that age—"
"Take him along! Xiulote is skilled at math; he can help you manage the supplies. With skill in mathematics and war honors, no one will question it. Especially with me backing him."
With that, Xiutel turned back toward Xiulote lovingly, pinching the boy's cheek. His touch was light, not painful at all. "Xiulote, you're bright by nature—you're our hope, and the family's hope. Listen to your father. I know that, deep down, you understand everything."
"Twelve or thirteen years old and already a Second-Tier Priest… In another couple of years, I'll make you the youngest Fifth-Tier 'Coyote Priest.' Then, when my time comes, you can take my place. Remember, Xiulote—"
He locked eyes with the youth, as though willing something into him with his gaze.
"You were born extraordinary; omens appeared in the sky! You are also descended from Akamapichtli—past Mexica kings share the same bloodline you do! Your future holds infinite possibilities, and I will seize every opportunity for you!"
"As for my future," the elder murmured quietly, "I've only a few years left before I enter the realm of the gods…"