Chapter Fifteen: The Laws of the Realm

Chapter Fifteen: The Laws of the Realm

In many ways, Yohuachanca’s emperor was first and foremost a prophet.

As the Godspeaker, my voice carried the weight of the Nightlords’ authority. Though the red-eyed priests held me accountable to their mistresses, I acted as the final court of the realm on judicial and religious matters. I was a living effigy, a totem whose divinely-inspired judgment could tell apart right from wrong. Eztli lurked in the shadow of my obsidian throne, the night to my daylight.

My agenda for today’s grievance hearing, the first of my reign, was quite heavy. Items on the agenda included the organization of the year’s religious festivals, justice cases my predecessor failed to settle before his death, and deciding the fate of various territories. I decided to address matters from the most urgent to the least. That way I hoped to finish in a good mood in time for my meal.

“Oh great Godspeaker, we bow before your divine majesty!” A group of red-eyed priests knelt at my throne’s feet, the sound of their hands touching the ground echoing in my hall. “We beg you to enlighten the people of the Boiling Sea and set them on the path to salvation!”

I sat in silence, my face a mask of stone, as the priests explained to me how my glorious predecessors brought the eastern islands to their knees. I remembered quite well the presence of their ambassadors on the day after my coronation. They had given me gifts to show their fealty.

The fact those same representatives weren’t present today spoke volumes about how much power they held. Words from my religious studies came to mind: woe to the conquered.

“The people of the Boiling Sea worship spirits and false deities, oh Godspeaker,” a priest said. “Vile sea monsters and broken idols. Though the children of the night led the conquest, many of the old temples still stand today and shamans still preside over sinful ceremonies. We beseech you to decide their fate.”

My first instinct was to leave them be, if only to spite the priests. Still, I decided to ask for more details first. “How did my predecessor begin with them?”

“Divine Nochtli, blessed his soul may be, proved too merciful,” the chief priest said. “He allowed them to keep their faith so long as they paid tribute and obedience to the goddesses. It was his hope that the people would grow to love the empire if the transition of power proved smooth.”

Considering Nochtli had been planning a coup against the Nightlords, I suspected he wished for the islanders to join his aborted revolt. Clearly, he had miscalculated.

“Did the people of the islands love Nochtli?” I asked.

“Of course. When he gave his life to the goddesses, they sacrificed slaves in his name so that they might guide him in the afterlife.”

A gift that proved futile once his soul was entombed in a pillar of skulls. Moreover, the islanders did not rise in revolt for him when he was brought drugged to the altar. Their recent conquest had bled the fight out of them.

“The love of the masses is cheap and easy to earn,” Eztli mused. “You get what you pay for, Iztac.”

The islanders might be thankful for small kindnesses, but we will always remain a foreign conqueror to them. I leaned in closer to Eztli, whispering. “How do you suggest we proceed?”

“I see three options,” she whispered back while playing with her nails. “You can keep things as they are. The islanders will send you seashell baskets, our priests will grumble, and nothing will change. Otherwise, the priesthood can slowly begin to assimilate the local culture.”

That was the standard procedure in Yohuachanca. Islander priests would be bound to the Nightlords and gain red-eyes. Their words and books would be slowly rewritten to merge their gods with their new vampiric mistresses in their pantheon, until one day the people of the Boiling Sea would forget all of their traditions. The process might take decades, but in the end Yohuachanca would swallow them whole.

Obviously, that option did not appeal to me. “What’s the third choice?”

“Why, but forced conversion of course!” Eztli’s smile unveiled her fangs. “We scour their temples of riches, burn them to the ground, then build new ones over the ruins! Local shamans must either convert or die!”

A chill traveled down my spine. “That will infuriate the islanders.”

“Of course.” Eztli shrugged, her smirk unwavering. “You will need more sacrifices for summer, do you not? A paltry sacrifice I must say.”

Moments like this reminded me that while part of Eztli remained within her new vampire self, bloodlust and cruelty had filled the hole Yoloxochitl left in her heart.

Still, her solution made me wonder. The islanders had witnessed Nochtli’s death without intervention because they feared the Nightlords more than they liked him. What inspired me to take arms against them?

Hate.

Once hate grew stronger than fear, it inspired a mad form of bravery in the hearts of men. Enough to defy four goddesses in my case. The courage of the desperate.

Eztli’s heavy-handed approach would invite resentment. It was one thing to conquer their land, and another to destroy their entire way of life. The islanders would fight back, even if outmatched. Since they had lost their armies, they would gut throats in the dark, set garrisons on fire, and make a nuisance of themselves. Their insurrection would be crushed in time—all were—but it would weaken Yohuachanca’s grip on the region in the short-term.

“Besides,” Eztli murmured into my ear like a demon inspiring wicked sins. “All the wealth you seize from the islanders’ temples will go to you.”

I quickly caught on to her suggestion. I could use the stolen gold for bribes, to buy out allies closer to home. Eztli had always been mischievous, and undeath had only strengthened that trait into outright deviousness.

I had two choices before me. Either rule unjustly in the hope of driving Yohuachanca’s people to revolt, or act as a merciful master in the hope that they would support me once I launched a coup against the Nightlords. I could already tell which one was more likely to happen.

The people of Yohuachanca loved my predecessor. They loved him so much that they applauded when vampires tore out his heart. Love was a fickle throne to stand on. That must have been why the Nightlords had chosen to rule through fear.

Or perhaps I could try to do both. Be a tyrant to those whose help I couldn’t expect to rise on my behalf, and generous to those who could be useful to me. I needed allies in the palace and enemies at the borders.

I had made my decision. I faced the priests and delivered my judgment.

“Turkeys love a weak master who lets them wander around. In time, they forget to fear the hand that feeds them.” I joined my hands together. “The islanders require a sharp reminder of who truly rules this world.”

The Jaguar Woman said my reign would be an age of darkness. Very well. Once I was done, historians would look to the centuries before as a golden age never to be seen again.

“I shall ban the worship of the false gods all across the Boiling Sea!” I shouted with a genuine smirk. One of delight for the chaos to come. “Seize all their holdings! Melt down their gold and silver as gifts to the true gods, and tear down their temples so we might build new ones in their place! Any foreigner that refuses to cooperate shall be executed on the spot!”

Before what had happened with Yoloxochitl, I would have hesitated to speak these words. They still tasted bitter in my mouth. But I had already committed to wage war on foreign soil. I had already bet on winning the ball game, so I might as well go all the way.

“In fact, we shall not stop at the Boiling Sea!” I declared, trying to channel some of Yoloxochitl’s zealous madness in my voice. “Let this decree apply to all of Yohuachanca’s subjects, from north to south! For the sake of their immortal souls, we shall reform today’s sinners into tomorrow’s holy ones!”

If Yohuachanca’s victims would not rise up once they saw their gods torn down, they never would at all.

The red-eyed priests lacked the fangs of their vampiric overlords, but their smiles carried as many sinister overtones. “It shall be done, oh Godspeaker.”

Beasts, all of them, I thought after calming down and slouching down on my throne. They do not need human blood to live, but they lust for it all the same.

My loathsome decree was signed with a stroke of a quill, promising the obliteration of all the recently conquered people’s traditions. The priests, wisely expecting pushback, asked for military support; which I gave. The more spread out the empire’s troops before the war with the Sapa began, the better.

“Wise choice, Iztac,” Eztli whispered into my ear with a giggle. “I wonder how many will file a complaint over this.”

Like most gods, I would see to it that these prayers never get answered. “What’s next on the agenda?”

“A boring lecture,” Eztli replied with a sigh. “I am to brief you on the New Fire Ceremony and the other religious events of the year.”

The New Fire Ceremony marked the end of the solar year and the renewal of the people’s pact with the First Emperor. To purify themselves of their sins from the old year, citizens would cast old clothes, hearthstones, and possessions into temple flames. A very special one, fueled by the remains of my predecessor, would be relinquished to the new emperor for five days.

At sunset, on the very last day of the year, I would lead a procession of priests to Smoke Mountain in the east. Once I reached the summit, all fires in the empire except for my own sacred flame would be extinguished. This would mark the end of the old world. My sacred flame would light up a bonfire at Smoke Mountain’s top, and torches would be carried across all corners of the empire to signify the beginning of a new era.

One that I hoped would see the Nightlords extinguished.

However, the New Fire Ceremony would only be the first of seven major festivals I was to oversee. In two months, I would rule over the Rain Festival, where I would beseech the sky to bless our land with water with human sacrifices.

Ceremonies would follow on Vernal Equinox, but they would be but a prelude to the much larger Maize Festival, the year’s most beloved and important ceremony behind that of the Scarlet Moon. There I would ensure a good harvest by deflowering virgins, planting seeds in the earth, and partaking in human sacrifices.

The Summer Solstice would also host its own ceremony: the Masked Festival, where I would dress as the First Emperor in a play recreating Yohuachanca’s mythical founding. I would kill impersonators of my long-gone predecessors' enemies as human sacrifices.

The fall equinox would host yet another Harvest Festival, which for once wouldn’t involve human sacrifice. Instead, I would slaughter sacred animals as a symbolic representation of my subjects’ sins and assist in an empire-wide sweeping ceremony meant to purify the land of evil.

And finally... I would be sacrificed on the night of the Scarlet Moon.

Hearing this list of rituals from Eztli’s mouth soured my stomach. I was only four days into my tenure, though it had felt like four months to me. The year’s planning promised one atrocity after another.

“So I will take care of a sacred flame for the next five days?” I summarized. Worse, from what I understood, I would ascend to Smoke Mountain’s summit while caked in ashes. “Wonderful.”

“Pretty much,” Eztli confirmed. “You start tomorrow. Priests will help you keep it ablaze, but you’re expected to do most of the work.”

Considering what I was planning, I doubted I would have much time for fire-stoking. The ceremony did present an opportunity though: namely, the last day’s procession would allow me to leave the palace and spend the night on Smoke Mountain.

Eztli guessed what I had in mind. “Don’t get your hopes up,” she whispered, too low for others to listen. “The old bats will watch over your shoulder until dawn. For your own good, of course. A child shouldn’t wander outside without his parents’ supervision.”

I scoffed. From the disdainful way she worded it, this sentence came straight out of Yoloxochitl’s mouth. I wished I could burn her with her own so-called ‘sacred flame.’ At least this promenade would give me a breath of fresh air outside the palace.

“I’ve never climbed Smoke Mountain,” I murmured.

“Must be a pretty beautiful sight from all the way up there,” Eztli replied with a strange, distant look. “I hope I can see it too.”

“I don’t see any reason why you can’t come,” I said. “We could go watch the night sky as we used to. Smoke Mountain is said to be so tall that its peak looms above the clouds.”

Eztli smiled back at me. “You are sweet, Iztac.”

Unlike her words, her eyes were utterly without joy. It filled my heart with worry. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Eztli answered with a tone that implied otherwise. “It will make for a nice date.”

It would have, under normal circumstances. The thought of Yoloxochitl and her sisters watching over us while we enjoyed a tender moment atop Smoke Mountain did not appeal to me much, but I had to make do with what I had.

“What is the next item on the agenda?” I asked one of my priestly attendants to move on, since the subject clearly made Eztli uncomfortable.

“Next month’s marriages, oh Godspeaker.” The priests unrolled entire scrolls full of names and dates. “As emperor, you possess the right of the first night of any new bride-to-be.”

I knew what was coming, but it still took all of my strength to hide my disgust. The idea of forcing myself on innocent women only inspired horror in my heart. At least waging war on the Sapa would serve a greater purpose. “I will abstain.”

“You shouldn’t,” Eztli said.

I nodded sharply and Lady Sigrun hastily clapped her hands. Astrid walked into the room with a smaller, handheld version of her sister’s harp instrument. Necahual was about as surprised as I was.

“What kind of tool is this?” she asked Astrid, who shyly smiled back. She probably wasn’t too used to strangers.

“A lyre,” Sigrun answered on her daughter’s behalf. “Astrid, would you kindly play a song for your brother-in-law? Something joyful.”

“Yes, Mother.” Astrid pinched the instrument’s strings and started playing an upbeat melody. She was less talented than her sister at music, but her lyre provided enough noise to give us privacy.

While Necahual was focused on the song itself, Lady Sigrun leaned closer to my side of the table and went straight to the point. “Who will you choose among Xochipilli’s heirs?” she whispered into my ear.

That she knew the details of an audience only priests were privy to didn’t surprise me in the slightest. “Are you not going to suggest a pick?”

“No,” Lady Sigrun replied as she poured me a cup of chocolate. “Instead, I expect Your Majesty to tell me which of them he intends to voice his support for ahead of time, so I can accept the winning bid.”

Her words drew a smile from me. “Is it not a sin to take credit for work one hasn’t done?”

“It would be a greater sin to appear fallible,” Lady Sigrun replied unabashedly. “Besides, I would be in your debt.”

“Duly noted.” I saw no reason to deny her wish. “My contact also provided an answer to your test.”

I recounted to Sigrun what the Yaotzin told me while paying close attention to her mannerisms. My mother-in-law’s face gave nothing away—it might as well have been made of marble—but I noticed her eyes briefly blinked when I mentioned Mazatl’s daughter. She was good, very good; but not perfect either. I might learn to read her better with time.

“I am surprised,” Sigrun said, and for once she appeared entirely truthful. “Few even know that the man has a daughter, let alone her name. He is a very private person. The fact you learned this information within a day’s time, if it proves correct...”

“Once it proves correct,” I insisted. The Yaotzin never lied. While I couldn’t rule out the possibility that Mazatl’s daughter didn’t go along with his wishes, I doubted the wind wouldn’t have informed me. Like any good merchant, it required repeat customers.

“Did the Nightkin tell you?” Lady Sigrun asked. I smiled in response without giving anything away. “You have grown better at hiding your thoughts, Lord Iztac.”

“I will take that as a compliment.”

“It is one.”

“Thank you.” I noticed Necahual turning away from Astrid’s song and squinting at us. She probably figured out we were scheming together, but wisely did not mention it. “I do wonder why you need that information though.”

She smiled at me. “The answer might cost you.”

Ever the opportunist, I see. “I will pass for now.” I was more interested in her runes anyway. “I have another request for you.”

Lady Sigrun glanced at Necahual, who returned her gaze. “You want me to look after her now that her daughter has grown distant.”

“You are quite astute,” I complimented her. From the way Necahual stared at us, she had guessed what we had whispered about. “Can I count on your support?”

“I shall teach her court etiquette in return for your assistance on the Xochipilli case,” Lady Sigrun promised with a sharp edge in her gaze. “It is getting late, Emperor Iztac. Your consort must be waiting for you.”

Indeed. I loudly thanked Lady Sigrun for the meal and song, kissed her daughter Astrid on the forehead, and did the same with Necahual’s cheek. “Be wary,” I whispered to her, too low for our host to hear. “She is an ally for now, but a fickle one.”

Necahual bit her lower lip without answering, her nod almost imperceptible. She was a novice at this game, but she had good instincts. A lifetime of keeping her emotions bottled up inside her heart probably helped.

I am starting to get it, I thought while leaving Sigrun’s chambers with guards shadowing my steps. How this game is played.

The world of the living and that of the dead did not differ much. In both cases, one had to first give in order to receive in turn. Everything I did on the behalf of another should have a price attached to it. The right information was worth more than gold, and there was nothing more precious than trust.

These were simple rules to follow. At least so far.

Nenetl’s chambers, as befitting those of a consort, were located within a short distance of mine. I immediately noticed a strong smell of cacao when I approached its barkwood door.

“Nenetl?” I raised my hand to knock on the door, but a guard did it for me. “Are you there?”

I heard her answer from the other side with a trembling voice. “C-C-Come in!”

I exchanged a glance with one of the guards, who opened the door. “Keep watch outside,” I told them after crossing the threshold. “I will call for you if I need it.”

Though I suspected they would rush in on their own by the evening’s end. I intended to make noise.

Unlike Lady Sigrun and Ingrid’s tidy apartments, Nenetl’s quarters reminded me of the capital’s chaotic marketplace. The antechamber alone was a spacious hall of shelves filled with maize, squash, and most of all, cacao beans. The smell of it was almost intoxicating, and I nearly stumbled on a grinding stone filled with chocolate. From the look of it, Nenetl had to have stopped midway through the process.

“I’m so sorry!” I heard Nenetl apologize from two rooms over. “I am so sorry, my lord, my emperor, I—the oven is not working properly! I’m sorry!”

“The oven?” I blinked in astonishment as I followed her voice. “You have a kitchen in your quarters?”

“A-A small one, yes!”

She was cooking for herself? In a palace with thousands of servants?

Nenetl’s constant litany of apologies led me straight into her quarters’ main room, a large hall with a central table surrounded by scattered board games and other exotic decorations. Exquisitely crafted patolli boards with jade pieces waited next to a miniature replica of a ballgame court whose wooden players were held by sticks. Ceramic pots were piled in a corner next to painted dolls, bizarre clay figurines, obsidian mirrors, and a collection of various shiny stones with as many colors as the rainbow. I failed to find a pattern of any sort. I couldn’t even identify half the trinkets in this room.

However, none of the strange items in Nenetl’s collection could stand up to the Sapa’s tablet.

As per my orders, my servants had transported it to Nenetl’s apartments; though since it was ten feet high and half as wide, they had to put it sideways to fit it inside the hall. It remained as impressive as the day the ambassadors presented it to me, with its smooth volcanic stone surface covered in silver patterns mimicking the sky. An eclipsed sun of an obsidian stone circled with gold occupied the design’s center.

What did the Sapa call it again? The Chaskarumi? Its surface felt strangely warm when my fingers brushed against it. They said they used it to calculate the movement of the stars...

It was the eclipsed sun that fascinated me the most, however. I almost imagined the Chalchiuhtlicue’s dead one in its place, a purple circle raining tears onto a grim god’s skull. How would the Sapa have represented Tlalocan’s sky? A sapphire surrounded with burning rubies?

“I am so sorry, my Lord Iztac.” I turned my head to the side to see Nenetl walk out of an obsidian archway to my left. I caught a glimpse of a stone oven behind her. “I, I wanted to bake cacao sweets for you, but the fire, the fire is not... it’s not good enough...”

“I told you, call me Iztac, and skip the lord part,” I replied with a warm smile. “I’ve got enough flatterers to compensate.”

I meant it as a joke, terrible as it was, but it only caused her further distress. “I... I’m sorry. I forgot.”

I sighed and studied Nenetl. I had expected the most shy of my consorts to wear a dress or something formal; the way Ingrid had when I visited her mother. Instead, she welcomed me in a common, dirtied sleeveless blouse covered in chocolate stains and she had soot on her white hair and hands.

“You need not apologize, Nenetl,” I reassured her. The wolf inside her was buried very deep. “But, forgive me for asking... Why do you have a kitchen in your quarters?”

“I, uh, I cooked for the priests all my life.” She smiled shyly, her fingers trembling. “It... it calms me when I’m stressed.”

Considering how she looked, it didn’t help much. “I apologize if I put pressure on you,” I said. “I intended for today’s afternoon to be a relaxing moment.”

“No, no, this is all my fault, I–” Nenetl blushed enough to turn her pale skin scarlet. “It’s the first time I’ve hosted someone.”

“Truly?” I squinted at the dozen or so games she had laying around. “What are these for then?”

“I, uh...” Somehow Nenetl became even redder. “I... I mostly play against myself. I switch from one chair to another.”

That was both strangely adorable and terribly sad. If anything though, it made me appreciate her more.

She is painfully awkward and transparent, I thought, but it is all genuine.

“Well, now you have a partner,” I replied with amusement. “Though you’ll have to teach me how to play most of these.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Nenelt nodded joyfully. “I have patolli, Sapa games, that new Board & Conquest from the north. Which one would you like to try first, lor—Iztac?”

“Surprise me.” I hoped that by encouraging her to take charge, she would grow more comfortable around me. “We have the afternoon and evening ahead of us.”

“Oh, then we can try the Sapa games,” she happily suggested. Her eyes turned toward the Chaskarumi. “They are almost as pretty as this tablet.”

“I like it very much,” I confirmed. Though I would have to destroy it by the evening’s end.

All the pieces were now in place.

I activated the Gaze and the Veil spells in tandem. I immediately felt the weight of others’ attention on my shoulders. Nenetl, a rat hiding within the walls... and someone else.

This third presence immediately put me on edge. My entire plan revolved around deceiving a handful of people with my Veil spell. The more onlookers present, the greater the risk of failure. Moreover, the presence was close. So close it might as well have been...

Standing right in front of me.

I turned my sun-empowered eyes toward the Chaskarumi. My Gaze spell dispelled the illusions that covered its surface. The stars remained as sparkling as ever, shining lines of metal in a sea of blackened stone. But the eclipsed sun...

The obsidian stone at the center of the tablet had grown a reddish, vertical line in its middle. The golden circle’s curves had stretched left and right into a familiar shape. The same one I saw each morning when I cleaned before an obsidian mirror.

An eye.

Someone was observing us through the tablet.

Good, I thought, a smile on my lips. This would make things so much easier. Keep watching. You will like what you see.