While Tenochtitlan was busy preparing for the impending campaign in the southwest, eager to extend its help to the city-state that requested it while expanding its influence far and wide, the Toluca Valley’s altepetls did not remain idle or lacking in aid.
The legendary Otomi warriors from the mountainous north came to reinforce the local resistance, people renowned for their ferociousness on the battlefield, famous for their ruthlessness and brutality. Or so the dwellers of Tenochtitlan heard.
And those were the very same people Miztli encountered while first setting his foot in the enemy capital, pretending to be someone he wasn’t, already experienced enough after travels of a few moons, spying with certain flair, yet not in the outright enemy city. The opportunity to come near the leader of the Otomi reinforcements presented itself promptly, too good to overlook, even if it exposed him to plenty of danger—danger he found out he was not always equipped to handle properly, to avoid without risking his life and freedom at the very least.
In the meanwhile, Elotl, sent by his brother back to Tenochtitlan to deliver the word of the dangerous reinforcements through Necalli and to the Emperor himself, arrived in the island-capital, only to land in plenty of trouble his own recklessness brought upon him time after time. The neighboring Tlatelolco was again up to no good, and this time, even Tlemilli’s exalted sister found herself involved, if inadvertently, caught in political machinations that only one man could help her escape.
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