Blood & Fur

Chapter Eight: Marching for War

Having soothed Necahual, I visited the Reliquary for my 'morning meditation'. The Parliament of Skulls awaited me inside, shrouded in shadows.

“We see you, our successor.” A spectral glow illuminated a thousand empty eye sockets with palpable excitement. “We congratulate you on your successful voyage to Mictlan. Since you returned with your wits intact, we deduce that you have earned Mictantecuhtli’s favor?”

“‘Deduce’, my predecessors?” The choice of words intrigued me. “I thought that you could see and listen through me?”

“The Nightlords deprived us of our afterlife.” The skulls expressed their irritation in a collective grunt. “Whatever transpires within Mictlan’s walls remains concealed from our senses. We saw Mictecacihuatl guide you beyond the murals, and then… all became silent and dark.”

Intriguing. It was not my intention to withhold secrets from the previous emperors, yet this revealed their powers’ limitations within the Underworld. Some locations could prohibit them from offering their wisdom and guidance.

I recounted my journey, which brought them much delight. “Forming an alliance with Mictecacihuatl will yield many benefits,” they mused once my recount was complete. “The Day of the Dead was widely observed by the tribes that existed before Yohuachanca, primarily as mundane festivals celebrating the deceased. Mictecacihuatl can only inhabit a single priestess at a time, hence her presence at a feast was considered an honor.”

“So the Day of the Dead ritual is a localized, small-scale event,” I inferred. “Does the ritual have a restricted radius? How do spirits manifest on earth?”

“As far as we know, the ritual revolves around Mictecacihuatl’s host. We are unaware of its reach, but the eldest among us remember apparitions rising from their graves at twilight and returning to their tombs at dawn.” The skulls rattled in frustration. “You need not worry about betrayal, but do not expect assistance either. If Mictecacihuatl could exploit the Day of the Dead to wage war against the Nightlords, she would have done so when they massacred her priestesses in Yohuachanca’s early nights.”

Mictecacihuatl told me as much. How unfortunate. “What do you propose then, my predecessors? Should I revive the festival publicly?”

“The Nightlords remember the Day of the Dead. It would be prudent to orchestrate this divine feast covertly, and far away from our captors’ scrutiny.” The Parliament paused momentarily, its members engrossed in deep contemplation. “However…”

“Yes?”

“Although the Day of the Dead will raise no army, we can still exploit it,” the Parliament suggested. “Certain rituals cannot be done by a solitary sorcerer. If you can locate the remains of ancient magicians and have the goddess resurrect them, even for a night… they might assist you in casting spells currently beyond your reach.”

“Like other Nahualli?” True, perhaps I had been considering the festival from the wrong perspective. I didn’t need an army when a small coterie of magicians could achieve similar outcomes. Queen Mictecacihuatl did mention that a past sorcerer had once raised an undead army on his lonesome... “What kind of spells do you have in mind, my predecessors?”

"This is but a fleeting thought of ours," the Parliament replied. "We ought to reflect on our options more carefully."

Given that the Day of the Dead would not take place until next year’s winter, we could afford to think over our strategy for a time. However, another pressing issue with a far more immediate deadline gnawed at my thoughts.

"What about the ten thousand sacrifices?" My spine trembled under the weight of such a horrendous blood toll. "You have made your position clear, my predecessors, but for once I struggle to accept your advice."

"Your feelings cloud your mind to the truth,” the Parliament retorted, their collective voices exhaling a unified sigh. “The Nightlords will claim their tribute regardless of your wishes. As it stands, the only decision within your power is the victims’ selection."

I mulled over the old emperors’ words. Unfortunately, I could do little to stop the Nightlords until I gained enough magical power to drag them off their thrones. These false goddesses and their spawn would indiscriminately prey upon Yohuachanca’s citizens unless I offered them victims personally. Much like Chikal before me, I could only spare my fellow man by designating other offerings in their place.

I felt little loyalty for the people of Yohuachanca’s capital—not after how easily they dismissed my predecessor’s death before throwing me to the wolves—and I couldn’t name a single person outside the palace’s walls that I wanted to keep alive. Even so, millions of people called the empire their home. Millions who had done nothing to me. The thought of becoming complicit in their murders horrified me.

And considering how the tribute system was set up, most victims would come from freshly conquered provinces who had already suffered greatly. Raiding neighboring lands would only spread the pain outward to innocents beyond the border; people who could treat Nahualli like me better than the empire for all I knew.

What a gruesome choice to make, I pondered. No wonder Chikal betrayed her tribe’s sister city. All my options are dreadful.

Perhaps my thinking was flawed. If I couldn’t halt the tribute… then perhaps I should increase its cost. I needed to find a target that would both fight back and spread turmoil throughout Yohuachanca.

"Speaking of blood," the Parliament murmured. "The only blood one might find in the Land of the Dead Suns is that shed by a god or a Tlacatecolotl. They are too few in the Underworld to fill a lake, let alone an ocean."

"Mictantecuhtli undoubtedly intends for me to fail," I replied. "My task is to fulfill the letter of the request, not its spirit."

"The trickster Huehuecoyotl might aid you in your endeavor. He takes delight in making fools of the powerful."

This suggestion only reinforced my resolve to seek him out the following night. With any luck, I could persuade him to support my cause.

The collective gaze of my predecessors dimmed in the darkness. "Are you sure that you can trust this Necahual?"

"I trust her spite." My mother-in-law was quite capable of holding a grudge. I learned it at my expense. "I don't plan to divulge my secrets to her, but I do intend to test her loyalty. She can assist me in poisoning Tlacaelel."

To my astonishment, the former emperors barely reacted to the proposal. "We pray your trust is not misplaced. Discovery could lead to dire consequences for your accomplice."

"I must confess my confusion," I admitted. "I expected you to try to dissuade me."

"Tlacaelel’s elimination will change little, and we doubt the Nightlords will even investigate his death. He is a disposable underling, with a legion of hungry upstarts eager to replace him."

Whether or not killing the eunuch would disrupt the imperial administration didn't concern me. Tlacaelel smiled at the sight of Eztli murdering her father. The thought of ending his life would bring a smile to my face and a measure of retribution to Guatemoc. I owed him that.

"However, we applaud your initiative," the skulls said in a tone laced with satisfaction. "Every bird must hone his talons for the hunt, and Tlacaelel presents an accessible target. Practicing assassinations will prove invaluable when the time comes to target better protected opponents."

I nodded resolutely. "He will be the first to die, but far from the last."

"Yes." The Parliament's thousand eyes flickered in the darkness. "Heed our words, our successor. Over the centuries, we have discerned that the Blood Pyramid is supported by four pillars. Each must be toppled for the empire to crumble."

I grounded myself and listened intently.

"The Nightkin nobility governs in the Nightlords’ stead," the Parliament explained. "Their red-eyed priests uphold the realm’s societal harmony. The military sows fear among their enemies both within and beyond the borders. And the tributary system funds them all. To bring down Yohuachanca, you must dismantle all four of these pillars. Should you succeed, you will find the Nightlords disoriented, weakened, and exposed."

I had anticipated as much. The Nightlords’ Nightkin offspring ruled the realm's major cities from the shadows, employing the red-eyed priests to impose their will in the daylight. This mirrored my relationship with their masters. Annihilating the priesthood and their vampiric overseers would undoubtedly impair the Nightlords' influence.

I could see how undermining the military and tributary system would sabotage them too. The former held recently subjugated groups in check and deterred foreign enemies from mounting an invasion. Its collapse could spark revolts and invasions, effectively diverting the Nightlords' attention.

Meanwhile, the tributary system acted as the empire’s lifeblood while simultaneously depleting the vitality of the newly annexed provinces. As someone who initially intended to become a trader, I was intimately acquainted with its inner workings. Four times a year, the empire demanded a myriad of resources—food, artisanal goods, raw materials, and slaves—from their conquered tributaries. The vanquished were given the choice to fulfill this request either by themselves, or by executing raids on foreign tribes to plunder these resources. This practice ensured the empire’s prosperity while simultaneously weakening its tributaries.

I pondered the methods by which I could disrupt all four of these pillars. The solution appeared clear to me, and equally chilling.

"War." The word reverberated within the Reliquary with the weight of a curse. How does such a short word carry so many consequences? "We require a war."

"Yes," the Parliament confirmed. "The Nightlords’ unquenchable thirst for blood has provided you with the perfect pretext to ignite one. If executed well, you will attain glory, and glory ushers in power. Men worship conquerors. If botched, the conflict would nonetheless weaken the empire."

This chapter upload first at NovelUsb.Com

A war would greatly benefit me on paper. It would drain the military force that enforced the Nightlords' authority, coerce Nightkins and priests into combat where they could be killed, and offer me occasions to leave the palace on military campaigns. Nothing burdened the tribute system more than providing sustenance to an army stationed half a world away.

However, Yohuachanca had accumulated its might through victorious military campaigns. Emperors would come and go, but generals retained their positions; sometimes for centuries in the Nightkins’ case. I couldn’t guarantee an expedition’s failure, and subduing a defenseless tribe wouldn’t suffice. I needed a grueling, brutal conflict that would leave Yohuachanca exhausted.

Furthermore, war always carried a steep price. Innumerable innocents would suffer, in and out of Yohuachanca’s borders. No entity posed an imminent, life threatening threat to the empire. I would have no justification.

My predecessors sensed my internal turmoil and attempted to reassure me. "Should you falter, the Nightlords will continue to torment the world. At the very least, selecting the battlefield will let you manipulate the outcome in your favor."

"That would not absolve me," I replied, my tone somber. I had witnessed firsthand what awaited the living after death. A treacherous, perilous journey through a wilderness teeming with monstrous creatures, with the only refuge being a city of bones presided over by an indifferent deity. "Hundreds of thousands will perish."

"Ten thousand sacrifices were asked of you. Ten thousand souls doomed to languish within vampire bellies, that will find no rest in Mictlan. The Nightlords will make this demand again from your successor. Even if your war results in a hundred thousand deaths, your captors will slay an equivalent number in less than a decade… and their victims will be denied any semblance of peace."

Their rationale was cold and brutal, but not untrue. As a trader, I had been trained to put my faith in numbers over words. This arrangement would be a lesser evil, but it still left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“You already tried war, did you not?” I asked the Parliament. “My predecessor was a conqueror. What good did it do?”

A skull bulged out of the pillar and took prominence. I immediately recognized the remains of Nochtli the Fourteenth, my predecessor.

“I greet thee, my heir,” the skull said. “Yes, I was a conqueror in life. Much like you, I resented becoming emperor and sought to use military might to rebel against the Nightlords. I invaded the south hoping that successes would purchase my freedom.”

“But you failed,” I pointed out.

“Through no fault of my own,” the skull rattled. “I have won more battles than the whole number of your years, Iztac. Never once did I know defeat. After I broke Chilam and Balam, half my army believed me invincible. I courted generals to my cause to prepare a coup. Had things gone to plan, I would have been marching on the capital as we speak.”

“You found support among the generals?” It surprised me. It was easy to be brave in my situation when I had nothing left to lose, but I would expect imperial soldiers to prove more cautious.

“You would be surprised.” Nochtli chuckled sinisterly. “The old resent following orders from immortal leeches who have often never set a foot on the battlefield. The young burn with ambition and underestimate vampires. Men are beasts. You cannot beat the hunger out of them.”

It reassured me that some men were brave enough to defy the Nightlords, however few. “But why did you fail then?”

“The same reason even the best of us failed.” The skull’s eyes flickered. “Magic.”

I cursed myself for asking such a stupid question. I should have seen it coming.

“I did not wield spells, nor did I enjoy my predecessors’ guidance as you do now,” Nochtli reminded me. “So I tried to assassinate Sugey, the Bird of War. I ambushed her with my best troops in the perfect conditions. I thought she would be like a feathered tyrant, dangerous but beatable. I was wrong. She slaughtered my escort to a man and dragged me back to the capital.”

I scratched my neck where the Jaguar Woman once strangled me with the power of her mind. No common warrior could fight back against such artifices.

“Since my assassination attempt amused Sugey, I was allowed to wither away in empty luxury instead of suffering torture.” Nocthli concluded his tale with a tired sigh. “But the sisters would not let me out of their sight again. I wallowed in despair until I became a shadow of myself.”

“Your efforts won’t be for naught,” I reassured him. “I will pick up where you left off.”

“Then you must spread chaos,” Nochtli replied bluntly. “I could not have ambushed Sugey alone without the fog of war blinding her. No amount of soldiers will let you destroy a Nightlord, but the fewer of them shielding the vampires from harm, the easier your task will be.”

Another skull bulged towards the forefront of the Parliament to say its piece.

“I am Ichnoyotl, the Tormented One,” said one. “I came close to tearing the empire apart, back when it was young. I betrayed Yohuachanca to its enemies, sparking a civil war. The Jaguar Woman broke my body with but a thought and had my own successor sacrifice me on the altar, yet my death purchased a decade of peace for our neighbors.”

I remembered his name, for that emperor had been the only one to bear it. His reign was remembered as an age of chaos which a succession of ‘good’ emperors managed to pull the empire back from. Still, the disaster halted Yohuachanca’s expansion for years.

Sabotaging the empire’s military in a pointless campaign might prove disastrous in the short-term, but good for the world in the long-term. Even if I failed, I would ease things for those who would try to follow in my wake.

"To succeed, I would require an adversary capable of bleeding Yohuachanca dry," I pointed out. "A formidable adversary that won't hesitate to fight back."

The Parliament’s hundred heads spoke as one once again. "We believe you already have a potential candidate in mind."

Indeed, I knew someone. The only empire that had managed to maintain its pride in the face of Yohuachanca’s dominance.

"But would the Nightlords let me wage war on them?" I asked with skepticism. I struggled to imagine the Nightlords agreeing to such a risky gamble.

"Not unless you force their hand," the Parliament conceded. "The Bird of War’s bloodlust might cause her to support your proposal, but her shrewder sisters would overrule her. You must create a convincing pretext or put them in a situation where they must acquiesce to salvage their reputation."

"Do you have a specific scenario in mind?"

“Mayhaps.” The skulls emitted a clattering noise. "But we require more information. Chikal was trained to guide you in warfare, and Ingrid’s mother closely monitors such developments for her personal gain. Seek counsel from both of them."

"Understood." I bowed before my predecessors. "I will collect information and return to you."

"Do not waste time, Iztac. Winter’s end ushers in the campaign season. If you plan to sow seeds for the summer and autumn, the time is now."

An emperor had everything but time.

Upon bidding goodbye to my undead advisors, I convened a morning meeting with three of my wives—Eztli would skip it to explore the palace’s secret passages. I instantly noticed amazons among the guards safeguarding the council room. Although their glances went from cautious to suspicious, the absence of red in their eyes warmed my heart nonetheless.

My good mood persisted until I entered the council room and found Tlacaelel conversing with Chikal. He welcomed me with a grin that made me want to puke.

"Oh mighty Godspeaker, your presence honors us." The red-eyed eunuch kneeled in reverence. "I pray the goddesses have imparted their wisdom unto you."

I should ship him to the altar this instant, I thought. With a quota of ten thousand heads to meet, I had to start somewhere. Regrettably, the Nightlords would likely veto my decision. "They have entrusted me with a mission."

"My lord will certainly excel at fulfilling it," Ingrid remarked as she bowed before me. While Chikal and Nenetl appeared either stoic or anxious respectively, Ingrid had come to the meeting wearing a stunning red gown revealing part of her cleavage and an emerald necklace that reflected the green in her eyes. I blushed slightly at her appearance, which, judging by her pleased expression, had been her intention from the state. "We were eagerly waiting for your arrival."

"I apologize for leaving without a word last time," I said to her and Nenetl. "It was unplanned."

"No worries," Nenetl reassured me gently. "We... we didn't linger for too long before returning to our quarters."

"We await at your leisure, my lord." The smile on Ingrid's lips did not reach her eyes. "We understand that duty often calls at inopportune times. The Nightlords and their progeny demand much from all of us."

Their ‘progeny’. I could read between the lines. Ingrid was aware of what happened with Eztli and was uneasy about it. I briefly thought she was jealous before berating myself over my naïvety. Ingrid didn’t care for me personally, only for what I could do for her family.

Eztli unsettles her, I realized. She’s worried about what influence she will have over me.

How should I handle the situation? Should I assuage Ingrid and try to convince her Eztli isn’t her enemy? I would rather avoid a festering conflict, especially since we would need to work together to dodge our death on the altar.

Chikal cleared her throat. "What is the will of the Nightlords, Lord Emperor?"

I took my seat at the table. "I must offer them ten thousand sacrifices by the Summer Solstice."

My councilors' reactions told me much about their personalities. Nenetl clasped her mouth in horror, her innocent eyes wide with disbelief. A fleeting look of unease crossed Ingrid’s face, and although she swiftly corrected her expression her fidgeting fingers gave her true feelings away. Chikal barely reacted, since she probably expected such a demand. Tlacaelel just smiled. I began to wonder if the toad could do anything else.

"Procuring ten thousand individuals in half a year is a daunting task," Chikal remarked.

"Only death can pay for life," Tlacaelel retorted with a hollow pretense of wisdom. "The empire can easily meet the quota if we demand slaves from the provinces as payment."

"But..." Nenetl gulped and failed to complete her sentence. Her eyes glanced in my direction, seemingly seeking permission.

"Speak your mind," I urged her. The more time I spent with her, the more I realized that my fellow Nahualli would rarely confront anyone without encouragement.

"Thank you, my lord." Gathering her courage, Nenetl faced Tlacaelel. "Lord Tlacaelel, the recent celebrations resulted in such a massive loss of blood. The provinces would have to select their own citizens as tributes to fulfill the quota."

Tlacaelel frowned at her in genuine confusion. "What is your point, Lady Nenetl?"

Of course he would opt for the most despicable solution. Emotional appeals wouldn’t affect him, so I didn't even try it.

"I would rather claim the blood of my enemies than that of my subjects," I replied, trying to speak like an emperor—or at least how I imagined one should think. “We have no shortage of the former."

"My lord speaks wisely." Ingrid nodded in agreement, though I couldn’t tell if she did so to curry favor or out of a genuine desire to avoid sacrificing her countrymen. "Warriors captured fresh from the battlefield make for more illustrious sacrifices than slaves."

"Do you already have a target in mind, Lord Emperor?" Chikal asked with her arms crossed.

"Not yet," I half-lied. A part of me still hoped a better solution would present itself. "I was hoping for your guidance on the matter."

Chikal's nod was curt. "Of course."

I observed in silence as she spread out half a dozen maps across the council table. The largest depicted a significant portion of the known world, including Yohuachanca and its neighboring territories. I immediately noticed three distinct lines of varying colors representing the empire’s ever-expanding borders. Yohuachanca’s growth turned maps obsolete within years of their creation.

"As you can see, Lord Emperor, the entire peninsula facing the Boiling Sea, along with its islands, pays you homage," Chikal explained. "As are all lands bordering the northern borderlands and the southern Amaru Mountains. Your predecessors’ forces have extended southeast of the latter, deep into the jungles."

Her hand drifted south, momentarily pausing when it hovered over two points situated behind a recently drawn line: the cities of Chilam and Balam. I searched her gaze and found only an impenetrable mask. Her emotions eluded me.

Now that I had access to high-quality imperial maps, the reasons for the Three-Rivers’ and the Sapa’s survival became apparent: geography. Dry arid lands separated us from most of the Three-Rivers Federation, alongside a dozen buffer tribes caught between them and Yohuachanca. As for the Sapa, their empire sprawled across mountainous terrain. Where weapons failed to halt Yohuachanca’s conquests, nature had prevailed.

"My suggestion," Chikal proposed, "is to head north and quell the coastal plain tribes south of the Three-Rivers Federation. The dense jungle enveloping the southeast is sparsely inhabited and the terrain will impede expansion. That well is dry."

Her recommendation would conveniently keep troops far from her home city, which would be the first to bear the onslaught of any war in the region. I silently analyzed the maps and let my advisors speak their minds.

"Many northern tribes joined the Three-Rivers for mutual protection, but not all," Tlacaelel said. "The stragglers will be easy prey."

"The Three-Rivers won’t remain still as we mobilize troops close to their borders," Ingrid pointed out. "We should secure a treaty offering guarantees of safety first. Otherwise, they'll intervene militarily."

"Could the Three-Rivers challenge our armies?" I asked, praying for a resounding yes.

"Of course not, oh Godspeaker." Tlacaelel chuckled. "The bison-eaters are a disorganized assembly of tribes with less than a tenth of our population. They are more likely to scatter and retreat than to engage in battle."

Chikal shared his assessment. "While I wouldn't underestimate any adversary, Yohuachanca significantly outstrips the Three-Rivers in wealth, logistical capacity, equipment, and population. They stand no chance of repelling imperial armies if we make a determined push north."

I had hoped for a different answer. "Why have none of my predecessors attempted to conquer them then?"

"The terrain and distance, Lord Emperor," Chikal replied. "The deserts would compel us to take detours, elongate our battle lines, and stretch our logistics thin. As the region lacks any state more stable than tribal confederacies, the northerners do not assemble vast armies like we do. Instead, they employ beasts and small raiding squads to execute surprise assaults, harass troops, feign retreats to set better ambushes... they might lack the numbers to stop our advance, but occupation will prove costly."

"Moreover, the north lacks fertile lands and resources," Ingrid pointed out. "Most emperors simply didn't see the point in fighting over such lands."

Not when easier prey and wealthier territories lay to the south, I thought bitterly. "So, in summary, the Three-Rivers can't win a war, but peace is less expensive than conquest?"

"If one considers only land and wealth," Chikal replied with a thin smile. "The calculation changes when it comes to blood."

The Nightlords didn't covet additional patches of land or rivers. They wanted blood. On paper, expanding northward would easily satisfy their demands. A handful of decimated tribes would suffice to meet the quota. Yohuachanca would emerge unscathed, if not stronger.

So I dismissed that option.

I looked south of the map and addressed the longneck in the room. "What about the Sapa Empire?"

While Chikal looked at me as if I had gone mad, Tlacaelel's smile became strained. "Oh great emperor, the Sapa’s insolence offends the goddesses and their time will come," the eunuch said. "However, we can find ten thousand tributes closer to home."

"The Sapa Empire is prosperous," I countered. The stark contrast between their ambassadors and those of the Three-Rivers sprang to mind. The former came adorned in gold, the latter in pelts. "Why not seize their gold along with their blood?"

"Because acquiring ten thousand Sapa heads will cost a hundred times that in our people’s blood," Tlacaelel retorted calmly. "You must consider your loyal subjects’ welfare."

I stared at the bastard in stunned silence, astounded by his sheer audacity. He had managed to utter those words with a straight face five minutes after proposing that we sacrifice ten thousand slaves.

Nonetheless, the more Tlacaelel objected to the idea, the more I became convinced that I was on the right track.

Chikal said out loud what Tlacaelel wouldn’t dare admit. "The Sapa Empire is no petty tribe, Lord Emperor. They are an empire that extends across countless mountains, boasting formidable armies on par with your own, ample gold to hire mercenaries, magic, and a sizable enough population to sustain a prolonged conflict."

I chuckled. "Chikal, are you suggesting that Yohuachanca might lose?"

Chikal took a moment to carefully consider her next words. "If by ‘defeat’ you mean losing territory, Lord Emperor, then no," she said, her tone that of someone walking on eggshells. "The Sapa won't pursue us beyond their mountains. However, I doubt we will be successful in holding the region; not unless you are prepared to pay a blood tribute a hundred times costlier than what the Nightlords demanded of you. There are superior options available."

"I urge you to heed Lady Chikal’s prudent advice, oh great emperor," Tlacaelel added. "We recognize your desire to chastise the non-believers, but unfortunately the time has not yet come."

I gazed at the eunuch. His smile had grown so thin that it barely concealed the apprehension and annoyance beneath. Had he discerned the trap I had laid for the Nightlords? I needed to cleverly conceal my motives.

"Do you recall what you told me when we first met, Tlacaelel?" I asked him.

Tlacaelel frowned in confusion. "I do not, oh great emperor."

"You said that my predecessor Nochtli left us many legacies." Tlacaelel would come to rue these words in time. "I have one year to leave Yohuachanca with a legacy that it will never forget. One year to ensure that history remembers my name."

And hopefully as the Nightlord-slayer.

"Conquering the Sapa’s mountains would indeed be glorious, oh Godspeaker," Tlacaelel responded diplomatically. "However, their end will come when the goddesses decide it. Have they asked this of you?"

He thought pinching my strings would reel me in. A big mistake.

"They haven't forbidden me from anything," I countered. "My mission is to procure ten thousand sacrifices by any means. How I accomplish that task is up to me."

"Nevertheless, I would recommend seeking counsel with the Gods-in-the-Flesh beforehand," Tlacaelel urged, his tone soft and smooth. "Only with their divine endorsement can triumph be assured."

Refuting his claim would cast me in a heretic’s light, so I kept my mouth shut. I briefly glanced at my wives to gauge their reactions. Nenetl remained silent, utterly overwhelmed by the situation, while Chikal assessed my proposal with stoicism, but Ingrid’s eyes were bright with satisfaction. I could tell that my ambition intrigued her.

"Certainly, Tlacaelel," I said with false amiability. Just being polite to the toad wore my patience thin. "Chikal?"

The amazonian queen immediately straightened in her seat, like a soldier preparing for the call to arms. "Yes, Lord Emperor?"

"I want you to create strategic plans for potential campaigns against both the Three-Rivers Federation and the Sapa Empire," I instructed her. "I want to evaluate all alternatives."

Another lie, although this one flowed easily enough. I already knew whom to target, but Tlacaelel’s reaction clearly showed that I couldn't declare war against the Sapa without significant preparation. False deliberations would let me buy time.

Chikal assented with a nod. "As you wish, Lord Emperor."

Was that a flicker of amusement I detected in her voice? She likely expected me to reconsider upon seeing the colossal task ahead. That poor woman, she would be disappointed.

"Nenetl," I called, catching my fellow Nahualli off-guard.

"Y-yes?" she replied, adjusting her position on the seat. "How… how may I assist you?"

How should I handle her? I wondered. My predecessors hinted at a method to awaken her Tonalli, but Nenetl seemed prone to fleeing or withdrawing at the first sign of trouble. Revealing too many secrets to her might prove unwise. I better test her first.

"I want to review the empire's current situation with you, particularly the tribute system," I said. "If I am to preside over Yohuachanca’s destiny, I must understand how it works."

With luck, I might find a flaw to exploit.

"My lord's thirst for knowledge honors him," Ingrid said with approval. "We all stand prepared to assist you in your endeavors."

"I will try not to bore you," Nenetl replied, a timid smile gracing her lips.

"You won't," I reassured her. I meant to comfort her, but Nenetl’s anxious expression told me that she perceived my words as a veiled threat. What should have I expected? She has been told all her life that she was cursed.

In contrast, Ingrid’s bold attempts to curry favor were painfully transparent. "Have you planned any engagements following our meeting, my lord?" she asked me. "I requested the musicians to arrange a performance in your honor."

I smiled and tried attempting to let her down gently. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Ingrid, but I will spend the afternoon with another."

Her gaze hardened instantly. "Another?"

"A concubine gifted to me by Lady Yoloxochitl," I replied. Although calling Necahual a concubine filled my mouth with a bitter aftertaste, at least it shouldn’t raise too many questions.

I was only half-right. Ingrid immediately squinted at me, her jaw clenching. I could tell she desperately wanted to ask for details, but held her tongue after I mentioned Yoloxochitl. She glanced at Tlacaelel, whose putrid smirk boiled the blood in my veins.

Wait, wait… Eztli said Yoloxochitl was mad and desperate to be loved. Could I play on it to both earn her support in a foolish war and lower her guard? An idea quickly came to mind. One that I loathed, but that would serve my ends well.

“I have another mission in mind for you, Ingrid,” I said. “A very important one.”

Her annoyed eyes swiftly widened in interest. “A mission?”

“Lady Yoloxochitl has been kind to me.” The lie had all the sweetness of a rotten fruit. “I would like to thank her with a gift. A monument in her name. As my counselor on cultural matters, I thought you might have an idea.”

Ingrid immediately pounced on the opportunity to please me. “How about a statue of her?”

“The costlier the better.” That way I could strain the empire’s budget too. “A statue of gold with flowers that all would admire.”

“I believe I can arrange it,” Ingrid replied with a smile.

“I would also like for us to meet with your mother tonight,” I said. The Parliament suggested that I consult Lady Sigrun, and agreeing to Ingrid’s proposal would hopefully placate her. I didn’t need more festering bitterness in my life. “Could you organize a dinner with her?”

Now Ingrid’s smile reached all the way to her eyes. She had been waiting forever for me to ask her that. “I would be delighted, my lord.”

I hoped her mother would live up to her reputation.