The midday sun filtered through the high screens of the eastern hall, dappling the polished stone floor in broken squares. Ehecatl didn't notice. His eyes were on the paper.
Another one.
He reached for a feather with one hand while still reading the last. The messenger waited a few paces back, still kneeling, arms resting stiffly on his thighs.
"Who brought this?" Ehecatl asked.
The messenger cleared his throat. "Runners from the east. They arrived last night. Rested only once."
Ehecatl nodded and reflected on the paper .
Inside were numbers.
Tribute tallies from the new conquests.
Not just sacks of maize and salted fish. These were the other kinds, the real kinda wealth, cacao, quetzal feathers, gold dust, cotton etc. The brothel percentages. The gambling ledgers. The pulque and tequila distillery estimates. Even a line about a fist-sized gem intercepted from a merchant who tried to lie about his cargo weight.
Ehecatl took a slow breath.
He hadn't expected such vast sums, but it was happening anyway. Because he'd structured it that way. Because he'd told the Yaoquizque Tequitiliztli to think in terms of surplus, in terms of control, in terms of sustaining themselves.
And now it was sustaining more than that.
He rubbed his temple, lips twitching faintly. Not a smile, more like disbelief trying to look humble.
So this was why they always said war was profitable.
He looked past the paper, past the flickering incense and shaded cushions. Out across the open courtyard where merchants passed under guards' gazes, where a few priests whispered with ledgers in hand, and where new conscripts trained in orderly ranks.
It wasn't gold filling his hands.
But it was enough.
Enough to feed the army. Enough to keep roads repaired and tribute collectors safe. Enough to grease wheels back in the capital and make sure no noble family grumbled too loudly, and more than anything it was enough to keep the people fed and the city calm.
He wasn't using it to build monuments or throw festivals.
But the temples were stocked with offerings again.
The markets weren't short of maize or meat.
And no one had dared bring up famine in over a month.
He set the paper aside and motioned to the aide standing at the edge of the chamber.
"Have the quartermasters update the reserves. And send word to the armory. I want the blacksmiths working through the night. If we're getting surplus, it's going back into firepower."
The aide bowed and moved quickly.
Ehecatl leaned back into the woven seat, arms folding.
He still remembered those first weeks. Exhausted. Overworked. Running every number by hand. Drawing plans on scraps. Arguing over whether they'd have enough metal for spearheads by the next moon.
Now?
Now reports arrived without needing reminders.
Now the front line was sending back wealth instead of just news.
He chuckled, low and short as all this reminds him of Smedley D. Butler.
'War was a racket.'
And he was starting to understand why people kept doing it.
…
…
…
It was late afternoon when Tecuichpo entered with the bundle of thin paper strips and reeds.
"Still at it?" she asked, half-smiling as she stepped over to the shaded mat where Ehecatl sat cross-legged, ink already staining two of his fingers.
He didn't look up at first. "Didn't want to lose my place," he murmured, eyes squinting at the latest glyph form. "Is this one 'tochi'? Or am I about to say 'rabbit dick' again?"
She snorted. "No, that one's right. You're improving. Slowly."
"I should've just made everyone read letters," Ehecatl muttered quietly to himself, but there was no bite to it. He shifted to make room as she settled beside him, setting the fresh bundle of glyphs down. "So, what's new from the front?"
She began sorting the pages by region. "Cuauhtémoc's still holding Cuauhtocho. Maxixcatzin's already got most of Cuetlaxtlan, but there's some Totonac towns dragging their feet. Cuetlachtli, though…"
Ehecatl glanced up. "What about him?"
"Still the same. No full report, but it sounds like his front hasn't collapsed. That's good enough, right?"
Ehecatl grunted, rubbing the corner of his eye. "Good enough for now. At least no one's asking me for more men."
"Yet."
They worked quietly for a while, Ehecatl reading aloud the glyphs she pointed to, sometimes mispronouncing, sometimes surprising her with how fast he corrected himself. It wasn't the usual awkward flirtation he gave her. No dumb jokes. Just focus, effort, and a few dry comments about how many strokes each glyph took.
Eventually, she glanced at the sunbeam shrinking across the stone floor and stood up. "You usually stop around now."
Ehecatl looked out the open corridor. The city had that golden hue again. "Shit. You're right."
"I'll finish the rest," she said, taking the unread pages. "Go eat. Go nap. Or go be weird somewhere else."
He looked up at her, the tiredness only now catching up to his face. "Thanks."
She didn't smile, but her voice softened. "You've been better lately."
"Getting paid is what makes me feel better." he shrugged.
She left without another word, and Ehecatl leaned back against the stone pillar, letting the glyphs blur for a moment.
Still no full word from Cuetlachtli.
But silence from the front… wasn't always a bad thing.
…
…
…
By the time Ehecatl made it back to his quarters, the sun had dipped just enough to bathe the inner courtyard in soft amber. He slide open the curtain door with one arm, exhaling through his nose.
The moment he stepped inside, familiar voices floated from the back room.
"There he is," Malinalli called, stretched out on the cushion bench with one leg lazily kicked over the other. "Did the world end today or are you finally done pretending it might?"
"Still spinning," Ehecatl muttered, tugging off his sandals.
"You look smug," she added, sitting up now. "That's a smug walk. What happened?"
"Work got better."
"That's it?" Tecuelhuetzin raised a brow from where she was braiding her hair near the window. "That's the whole answer?"
"I said it got better," he repeated, already walking toward the clay basin. "You want a song too?"
"I want the truth," Malinalli shot back, grinning.
"You want gossip," Ehecatl replied, dipping water into his hands and splashing his face. "Not the same thing."
"Oh no," Catalina's voice came soft, but amused, from her seat near the hearth. "He's dodging again. That means it really was good."
He didn't argue. Just wiped his face with a cloth and glanced toward her.
Catalina straightened a little, the curve of her belly now impossible to miss even under her loose tilmatli. "By the way," she said, switching to Nahuatl with careful, deliberate pronunciation, "I've been practicing. I can say full sentences now."
"You just did," Ehecatl nodded, impressed.
She smiled, proud but not overly showy. "And Xochiquetzal has started speaking Castillian more. I think we're trading brains."
"Finally," Malinalli muttered. "Someone else she can whisper with besides me and you."
Catalina just laughed. "Also… the baby's been kicking more. A lot. I asked the midwife to stay close these next few days. It's getting close."
That quieted the room a little.
Ehecatl looked at her belly for a moment, then back at her face. "You feel ready?"
She nodded slowly. "As ready as I can be. I'm not scared."
"Good," he said, stepping further into the room.
Xochiquetzal appeared from the side, holding a folded blanket and placing it neatly on the corner shelf. She didn't speak, but she gave him a small, quiet smile.
He returned it, then looked around at the room. The women were all in their places. The air smelled like tamales and warm stone. A bowl of roasted squash seeds sat on the low table.
It was peaceful.
He just took a seat beside Catalina, let his back rest against the wall, and exhaled like a man who'd finally gotten the rhythm of the day just right.
The quiet lingered like a blanket for a moment, until Malinalli shifted her weight with a small groan and leaned back against the cushion behind her.
"I've been wondering," she said, running a hand slowly along the curve of her stomach. "Catalina feels her baby all the time now. Mine still kicks, but not nearly as often."
Tecuelhuetzin glanced over. "You worry too much."
Malinalli gave her a half-smile. "That's rich coming from you."
"Have the midwives said anything?" Ehecatl asked.
"They've checked. Said the baby's heartbeat is strong." She nodded once, more to herself than anyone. "They say not all children move the same. Some are just quieter in the womb."
"But you still worry," Catalina said gently.
Malinalli nodded, rubbing her palm in slow circles across her belly. "I do everything they say. Massages every morning. That foul tea at midday. I eat what they hand me, drink what they hand me… walk every afternoon with Tecuelhuetzin."
"Even when she doesn't want to," Tecuelhuetzin added, smirking. "Especially when she doesn't want to."
"I follow the routine," Malinalli went on. "And when I'm not doing that, I listen to her."
She tipped her chin toward Tecuelhuetzin again.
"About the war?"
"Of course," Tecuelhuetzin said. "He won't tell me anything unless I barge in with maps and names. But I get what I need when I ask the right people."
"And?"
"We're winning," Tecuelhuetzin said simply. "More than that, we're moving. Farther than I expected."
Her eyes grew distant for a moment, gaze flicking to the open doorway and the faint glow of firelight outside.
"I keep picturing it," she said softly. "Our people… finally beyond our borders. Not just stuck in Tlaxcala, not begging for scraps or bribes. But out there. Taking what they want. Looting freely. Coming home with things they never thought they'd hold."
Malinalli smiled. "That's your dream."
"Not exactly that, but somewhat." Tecuelhuetzin said. "It's just nice to be able to live to see where my people aren't going to stagnate."
The moment held for a breath longer. It was quiet, thick with meaning before soft footsteps scuffed against the polished floor outside.
A knock followed. Then a voice.
"Cihuacoatl? Message."
Ehecatl pushed himself to his feet and crossed the room.
He opened the door to find a young runner, dusty from travel, a sealed scroll case held close to his chest.
"From the north," the boy said, lowering his gaze respectfully. "They said it couldn't wait."
Ehecatl took the case without a word.
The women watched him from their seats, all of them now still. Curious.
He broke the seal.
And read.
The silence stretched.
Catalina tilted her head. "News?"
Ehecatl's lips parted, then curled. Half-smile, half disbelief.
"What is it?" Catalina asked.
He stepped further inside, still holding the opened letter, eyes scanning it again to be sure he hadn't misread.
"Cuetlachtli's requesting more supplies," he said. "Says the Huastecs in Tziccoac fight harder than the ones back in Tohancapan. Fierce resistance."
Malinalli arched a brow. "Didn't he already take Tohancapan barely two weeks ago?"
"He did," Ehecatl replied, voice low, almost thoughtful. "Says they've held it. Yaoquizque Tequitiliztli have already begun administration. Now he's pushing on and says he's preparing a siege."
Catalina's lips parted slightly. "Already?"
Tecuelhuetzin leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "That fast?"
Ehecatl didn't answer at first. He sat down slowly, the scroll still loose in his grip.
"He's asking for more horses. More food. Salt. Charcoal. Iron, powder, and even a few scribes," he said. "Says he'll explain why later."
There was a beat of silence.
"Sounds like bullshit to me," Malinalli said, not unkindly. "He's exaggerating."
Catalina shook her head. "Cuetlachtli doesn't lie to him. If he's asking for those things, it's because he needs them."
Tecuelhuetzin shrugged lightly. "I barely know him. Seems too serious for me. Always quiet. Always thinking."
"That's what makes him creepy," Xochiquetzal said, arms crossed as she leaned back against a carved beam. "Creepy people lie too."
Ehecatl smirked faintly. He looked down at the scroll again.
Maybe they were right to be skeptical. Or maybe not.
He remembered back when this war had just begun. When all of this… the reform, the drills, the gear, the tactics—had felt like an uphill climb with no clear end. They had barely formed the Yaoquizque Tlapixque. Half the generals still clung to spears like sacred bones. And now?
Now Cuetlachtli had gone from raw zealot to front-line hammer, already carving through the northeast like he had something to prove.
Ehecatl exhaled through his nose. A quiet scoff.
"He's really doing it," he muttered.
Malinalli blinked. "Doing what?"
"Following through," Ehecatl said. "Everything we laid down. The system. The reform. He's taking it farther than I thought he would."
He looked up at the firelight flickering against the walls.
"This isn't a game to him. And somehow… we gave him the right tools."
No one said anything right away.
Then Catalina smiled gently. "Maybe we should send him more scribes."
Malinalli snorted. "More weapons first."
Xochiquetzal just rolled her eyes.
And for a moment, the quiet settled again. Heavier than before. Full of meaning. Full of motion.
War wasn't a storm anymore. It was a machine.
And somewhere out there, Cuetlachtli was pushing it forward.
…
…
…
A few days later, after finishing his reports and overseeing the day's audits, Ehecatl left his chambers early. No fanfare. No guards. Just him in a plain cloak and the soft warmth of evening sun brushing the rooftops of the city.
He walked alone through the southern sector, past the repaired aqueduct, down toward the same corner where his eyes had first opened in this world. Where the rubble had once choked the street and the stink of blood and rot lingered in every stone.
But now? There were open stalls. Cook fires. Music.
And Citlali, behind her table of sweetcorn rolls and honey biscuits, tying ribbon around a customer's purchase.
She spotted him before he could say a word, but she didn't jump or flinch. She just gave a slight smile and finished her sale before waving him over.
"Cihuacoatl? What are you doing here?" she said. "Thought war kept you busy."
"It does," he replied, hands tucked behind his back. "But I finished my day's work. Figured I'd come buy something sweet."
"Then you came to the right place."
He bought two sweets, letting her place them in a small woven pouch. She handed them over without asking for a price. He placed two cobs of cacao down anyway.
"I didn't just come for sweets," he added. "Wanted to talk."
Citlali tilted her head. "Oh?"
"I've been thinking," he said. "About this part of the city. How I first woke up here, if you remember. And how it used to feel. Wanted to replace that memory with something better."
She nodded slowly, eyes warm but cautious. "That's fair."
"Figured talking with you might help."
That pulled a quiet laugh from her. She leaned slightly against the edge of her stall.
"My kids are doing better, by the way," she said. "They sleep through the night now. Eat more. Talk more. The flags everywhere, the schools, it helps settle their nerves."
"You still live nearby?"
"Mhm. Owners of the food market let me rent a small place just off the main plaza. Not fancy, but clean. Safe."
Ehecatl glanced toward the plaza. "They go to school in that same area?"
"Every morning. Come back telling me about numbers. Picture glyphs. The older one tried teaching me a few."
"I'm glad," he said. "That's the idea. Build all this so it belongs to them one day. All of it."
She looked at him for a moment. Quiet.
"Does that mean the war's going well?"
He hesitated, then gave a sideways shrug. "Can't deny it. Can't confirm it either. But in the coming days, I'll be sharing more with the city."
"And will I get to hear it first?" she teased, folding her arms.
He leaned slightly closer. "If I run into you again… maybe."
Her brow lifted just enough to be playful. "Then you better know where to look."
"Where should I start?"
"Some days I don't work. On those, I'm usually in the market. Or walking the neighborhood behind it."
"The one near the old water basin?"
"That's the one."
He smiled, finally taking one of the sweets from the pouch. "Then I'll see if I can manage to stop by… once I'm sure everything's steady on the front."
"You always say that."
He bit into the tamarind and chewed thoughtfully.
"Maybe this time I mean it."
Citlali looked at him for a second longer, eyes dancing just a little, then turned back to rearrange her trays.
"Then don't make me wait too long."
…
…
…
They kept talking as the sky dimmed. Not about war. Not about reports. Just light things, her kids, market gossip, the stubborn old man who kept trying to haggle for sweets she'd already discounted.
By the time she packed up her baskets and tied the cloths over her stall, Ehecatl was still there. Not hovering. Just… present.
She glanced sideways. "You sure this was all you wanted?"
"I told you I wanted to replace bad memories," he said with a shrug. "Might as well walk you home while I'm at it."
She didn't protest.
They moved through the streets at an easy pace. The city buzzed low and calm in the evening heat. Smoke from cookfires drifted overhead, mixing with the scent of chilies and grilled fish.
They were nearly to her corner when he glanced over and said, just loud enough for her to catch it:
"So… should I be worried your neighbors will think I'm your husband?"
She snorted. "You'd need to show up more than once before they start that rumor."
"Oh? So you've been keeping count."
"Of course. Got to know how long I have before you disappear again."
He smiled. "Then I guess I'll need to show up a second time soon, just to see if rumors do start."
She laughed quietly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Careful, Cihuacoatl. Those are big commitments, especially at that."
"At what?"
"That flirting thing."
He lifted his eyebrows. "'Ahh it's fine, my heart wants what it wants." Of course while omitting that he also wants to be digging in them guts.
She gave him a look, one he couldn't quite read, but it lingered.
They reached her doorway. One of the hanging cloths over the entrance fluttered slightly in the breeze.
He stopped.
"I should head back," he said. "But keep an ear open. Word from the war front's coming soon."
She nodded once. "I'll be listening."
He gave a small salute with two fingers, turned, and walked off without looking back.
But her smile didn't fade as she watched him go.
…
…
…
The tecpan courtyard was quiet when he stepped through the gate, the last of the sun slipping behind the rooftops. A few guards were exchanging tired jokes near the entrance. One of them straightened when he saw Ehecatl.
"Cihuacoatl," the man said, lifting a small scroll case. "Came just before nightfall. From the north."
Ehecatl took it with a nod and cracked the seal as he walked, reading while his sandals scuffed across the stone.
It wasn't long, but it said plenty.
Cuetlachtli had taken Tziccoac. Entirely. All of it under Mexica control.
The Huastecs who hadn't surrendered were fleeing farther north into a place they called 'Tamaholipas.'
He was chasing them. Not recklessly, but with purpose. The kind of pressure that made the rest of the conquered region easier to hold.
He'd also secured the route from Tohancapan to Tziccoac. The horse relays were running. Supplies were moving. And now he needed more.
Ehecatl stopped at the edge of the hallway. He reread the name.
Tamaholipas.
The spelling was rough. Phonetic. But he knew what it was.
Tamaulipas.
A state. A place from another world. A name he hadn't heard in years. In that other life, it was scrubland, small cities, border tension. Cartels, smuggling routes, lost youth. Now?
Now it was just land. Wild, open, fought over by people who didn't know they were walking the bones of a country not yet born.
He smiled faintly. Just for a second.
"So… you went and did it," he muttered.
Cuetlachtli hadn't just followed orders. He'd completed the objective and then kept going. Pressed north. Took the fight farther than expected. And somehow still managed to follow the logistics plan like Ehecatl had drilled it into him himself.
The whole thing had gone from scribbled diagrams and long nights over stone desks to actual results.
And it was working.
He rolled the scroll back up and tapped it against his palm, already thinking of how to redirect surplus for the next convoy north.
Picture glyphs. Spoken words. Dusty riders and blood-slicked victories.
Whatever it took Cuetlachtli was getting it done.
Ehecatl turned toward the inner stairs, still half-smiling.
"Not bad," he said under his breath. "Not bad at all."
Ehecatl leaned back in his chair, stretching the stiffness from his neck as he unsealed the latest scroll marked from the northeast front. A quick glance at the glyphs confirmed it was from Cuetlachtli. Another report, routine by now.
Or so he thought.
Inside the tightly wound scroll, something heavier slipped out and landed on his lap with a soft rustle. A folded parchment. Different texture. Thinner. Faded ink.
He blinked.
It was a map.
Not a Mexica one.
He opened it slowly.
The outline of the coastline looked… familiar. It was a rough sketch, annotated in cursive Castilian, ink bleeding slightly through its folds. Ehecatl's eyes narrowed as he adjusted the lighting. And then his mouth fell open.
"…No way."
He pulled the other document closer and read Cuetlachtli's attached explanation.
The Huastecs had killed a Castilian man a few years ago near Tziccoac. His belongings were split among the victors. Somehow, one of them had ended up with a map. A genuine Castilian chart of the Gulf of Mexico.
Ehecatl's gaze swept across the names. "Pánuco… Tamuin… Vera Cruz… T. Palmas…" Then his mind paused at one familiar spot.
He chuckled softly. "South Padre…"
It hit him like a punch of nostalgia. Spring break. Beer. Dumb friends in board shorts. The faded hotel room that smelled like sunscreen and crushed chips. The bridge to the island. A girl in a red top he never saw again. A better, dumber time.
And now Cuetlachtli was there.
Well… not there there, but close enough to be freaky. Ehecatl's smile stretched wider as he kept reading.
Cuetlachtli had taken Tziccoac. Established full relay lines back to Tohancapan. Was now advancing through Huastec and Chichimeca territory further north. Founded an outpost he named Yaotlan. Allied with a tribe he called the "Xanample"—whatever that meant. Had secured land, choked off enemy movement, and… built another outpost farther up.
Mexicatlan, he called it.
And the river?
Hueiatoyatl.
Ehecatl shook his head slowly, grinning in disbelief. "This man really just named the Rio Grande, and gave it its same name."
He leaned back in his seat and let the moment settle in his chest.
They had gone from reclaiming the Valley to redrawing the known world. All in under months.
He was still laughing quietly when the door opened and one of the palace servants rushed in.
"Forgive the interruption," the man said quickly. "But… Malinalli… she's gone into labor."
Ehecatl froze. Blinked once.
Of course. Because today needed one more surprise.
He stood up at once, already moving.
"Get the midwives," he said over his shoulder. "And send word to Tecuelhuetzin and Catalina."
"Yes, Cihuacoatl."
The door shut behind him.