The envoy from Don Sebastián del Hierro arrived at the gates of Tenochtitlan under a white banner of truce, his small band of deserters and forgers trailing behind like wary dogs. The man was a grizzled Castilian, his beard matted with road dust, his armor patched with Mexica cotton, the ichcahuipulli.
A far cry from the polished steel of the conquerors. Ehecatl met him in a neutral courtyard outside the palace, flanked by guards with swords, macuahuitls, and the new clay grenades hidden in their belts. The air smelled of fresh lime from nearby reconstruction, a reminder of the city's rebirth.
"You come for trade," Ehecatl said flatly, his plain tilmatli contrasting the envoy's ragged finery.
"What do you offer?"
The envoy bowed low, his voice rough speaking Nahuatl, though clearly obvious he isn't fluent, but it is progress.
"Don Sebastián sends greetings, Cihuacoatl. We have metal, iron from our forges, copper from raids. And… pussy. Women from Tlaxcalan bound and ready. In exchange for your powder."
Ehecatl's eyes narrowed, his mind calculating.
"Show me the 'pussy' first."
The envoy raised a hand, and the two Tlaxcalan women were shoved forward by one of his men.
One was older, maybe thirty, with a stitched lip and eyes dull from bruises. The other was younger in her late teens, sharp-faced, dirt caked on her legs but still standing tall. Her lip curled when she saw the city behind Ehecatl.
"Funny," she muttered in Nahuatl, loud enough for them all to hear. "Our men tore these temples down. Now we're the ones getting dragged inside them."
Ehecatl exhaled through his nose, expression flat.
"Shut up, bitch."
He didn't raise his voice. Just said it, cold.
"You idiots couldn't stop them like we did. Your men helped the wrong side, and now look at you. Beaten, fucked, and sold. Don't act defiant now. Your sole use is to make Mexica children for us, nothing more nothing less."
The girl flinched, but didn't look away. Her hands were still bound. Her mouth stayed shut this time.
The Castilian envoy shifted awkwardly, trying to regain control of the mood. "As I said… two of many. The rest await, but these are a sample."
Ehecatl didn't bother responding to him directly. His eyes moved to the women, lingered a beat too long on the younger one, then flicked to the crates.
"Show me the iron."
Bags were opened, as ingots of scavenged iron, bronze tools pilfered from raids. Ehecatl nodded.
"Your merchandise for my merchandise. But first, a demonstration."
He led them to a cleared pit outside the walls, where a straw dummy stood like a sentinel.
A warrior handed him a clay grenade to which was a simple little pot, packed with powder, shards, and a twisted fuse.
The envoy's eyes widened as Ehecatl lit it with a flint spark, the fuse hissing like a serpent.
He tossed it casually then ducked, and the explosion shredded the dummy in a roar of smoke and fragments. The ground trembled, dust kicking up in a cloud.
The envoy staggered back, awe and greed in his eyes.
"Dios… we could learn this."
Ehecatl smiled coldly. "You buy it. Not learn it. Deal?"
The envoy nodded eagerly, handing over the metal and women. As they left, artists in the shadows sketched the grenade's design on bark paper—simple lines, easy to copy for the propaganda posters spreading the empire's secrets.
…
…
…
The smoke still lingered from the grenade test, curling like the last breath of a dying man. The envoy stared at the shredded dummy with a predator's grin. Ehecatl could already see the calculation behind his eyes—'how many can we make, how soon can we use them, how do we take them if trade fails?'
Before the bastard could open his mouth again, Ehecatl raised a hand.
"One more thing."
The envoy turned.
"Tell Don Sebastián this. If he wants more powder, more fire, more of these—" Ehecatl tapped the clay pot still warm at his hip, "—he'll get it. Cheaper than before. Easier, too."
A pause.
"But only if he raids our enemies. Altepetl who still claim independence. Rebels. Cowards who watched us fall and now beg for neutrality."
The envoy blinked, slowly. "You want us to fight your wars now?"
Ehecatl gave a slight tilt of the head, not quite a nod. "We're offering opportunity. You need weapons, we need leverage. Hit our enemies, bring proof, and the price drops. Hit them harder, and maybe we throw in a few barrels for free."
The envoy looked at the grenades again, then at the guards who stood silently nearby stone-faced, unreadable, with those same pots hidden in their belts.
"I see," he muttered. "You want to outsource the bleeding."
"I want results," Ehecatl said bluntly. "I don't care who bleeds."
The Castilian smirked. "My lord will consider this… devil's trade."
Ehecatl stepped closer, just enough to feel the tension.
"No. Your lord will accept this trade. If he's smart. Because once the powder flows, it doesn't stop. It floods. And your rivals? They'll drown first. Afterall, Sebastian isn't the only war lord, as there are others and like you they come here to trade."
The envoy said nothing for a moment. Then bowed again.
"I'll deliver the message."
As the grizzled man turned and walked away, Ehecatl gave a nod to the scribes hiding in the shadows. Every word, every term, recorded. Soon to be copied, duplicated, and sent across the valley in bark-paper leaflets. The Devil's Trade wasn't just an offer.
It was policy.
…
…
…
By torchlight and lacquered ink, the scribes worked without rest.
Every envoy had been processed. Their offerings catalogued, their names recorded, and their words summarized in the new bark-paper ledgers Ehecatl had ordered standardized across the capital. Under the seal of the Cihuacoatl, nothing entered or left the city without record. Not even women.
One page read:
TRADE REPORT – 4 Tochtli (rabbit) (March 1522)
• Don Sebastián del Hierro (Castilian Warlord)
• 2 Tlaxcalan women (fertile, mid-teens)
• 9 ingots: iron/copper blend
• 6 rusted helmets, 4 swords (melt-grade)
• Payment accepted for: 12 grenades + 4 sacks black powder
• Conditional discount promised for raids against hostile altepetl (pending)
Additional Arrivals:
• Cuetlachtli envoy: 4 women, 1 obsidian chest of cacao beans, 3 jade beads
• Tochtli envoy: no goods, but pledged 40 tongues (if orders given)
• Chimalli envoy (merchant alliance): smoked fish, salted maize, 6 bound laborers
• Cihuatecuhtli envoy: 3 young girls, 2 midwives, 1 older woman (singer)
Below this, another slate was being etched:
Projected City Restoration (Tenochtitlan)
• Current: 58% reconstructed
• Estimated full restoration: April 1525, based on current man-hour ratios
• Tribute manpower:
• Tlacopan: 900 men/month
• Azcapotzalco: 750
• Tequixquiac: 400
• Coyoacan: 700
• Culhuacan: 600
• Xochimilco: 820
• Food rations stable. Surplus from Chimalli expected to extend supply 2 months.
• Horse population: 51 total
• 27 usable for cavalry
• 9 breeding stock (3 mares pregnant)
• 15 unfit or underfed
In a private alcove above the treasury floor, Ehecatl sat cross-legged, eyes closed, whispering calculations to his cheat.
"Assuming two women per noble household. Fertile cycles staggered. Proper spacing—nine months plus recovery. Controlled breeding yields: minimum 280 births per year if scaled. That's base. Add midwives, healers, and diet…"
He exhaled.
"It's not just about rebuilding. It's about replacing the dead before the empire forgets what they died for."
One of the younger scribes hesitated at the door. "Lord Cihuacoatl… should I record your estimations for the birth ledger?"
Ehecatl didn't look up. "No. Not yet. Let the priests argue over wombs and gods. I'll count heads when they're old enough to hold spears."
…
…
…
Ehecatl leaned forward, tapping his fingers in rhythm against the ledger's wooden frame. Below him, the scribes' quill scratching faded into the background. His thoughts moved faster than their ink ever could.
"Cheat. Project full Valley control. Factor in current population decay, expected casualties in subjugation campaigns, tribute potential, and labor yields. Use Mexica-standard ratios. Start with Cuauhtitlan."
A cold flicker pulsed behind his eyes. The numbers came instantly.
Cuauhtitlan — Estimated tribute: 600 men/month, 100 women/year, maize, and lime
Zumpango — 400 men, obsidian fragments, minor fishing surplus
Xaltocan — 520 men, known for reeds and construction labor
Teotihuacan — 700 men, stoneworkers, and spiritual tribute (priest-class presence)
Otumba — 550 men, known for runners and low-tier warriors
Tepexpan — 300 men, 200 women, fertile wetlands, canoe transport nodes
Texcoco — High value: 1,100 men/month, 200 women, intellectual elite, lost royal records
Huexotla — 380 men, known for scribes and bilingualism
Coatlichan — 270 men, minor but strategically positioned
Chalco — Hostile but rich: 900 men, 160 women, maize surplus, military talent
Xico — 210 men, lakeside specialists
Mixquic — 190 men, flower cultivators, ritual goods
Cuitlahuac — 340 men, salt and fish output
He whispered again.
"If they're all brought under control… that's 7,460 laborers per month minimum. Add another 1,000 women per year if pressure's consistent. Maize output alone triples, fish and salt by half."
His eyes narrowed.
"Time to full city restoration drops from April 1525 to July 1524."
"Bridge reconstruction? Months instead of years."
"Weapon production? Scales by 3x if Mixquic and Teotihuacan cooperate."
"Grenade storage? 400 units per season, safely."
He leaned back, spine cracking against the wooden frame, a faint grin forming.
"Give me the valley… and I won't need allies. Just storage space."
A courier arrived at the door, breathing heavily.
"Lord Cihuacoatl—word from the south. Chalco sent a priest and two baskets of amaranth. No tribute. Just… prayers."
Ehecatl didn't move.
"Write their name at the bottom of the conquest list. Highlight it."
"Yes, lord."
He turned back to his mental ledger.
"Next: target acquisition routes. Begin with Texcoco. Use diplomacy if possible. Use fear if not."
The candle cracked beside the codex, but Ehecatl didn't blink. His fingers hovered above the ledger.
"Cheat. Recalculate if we optimize labor: introduce wheelbarrows, two-wheeled carts, and horse-drawn carriages for material transport. Add Ford-style station division for adobe molding, timber prep, and basic armament production. Use available local materials. No imports. Assume baseline training time of one week."
A rush of numbers flared in his mind.
• Wheelbarrows: 4x load capacity per laborer
• Carts: Horses increase transport range by 3x, reduce human fatigue factor by 50%
• Assembly line stations: Reduce tool production time by 60%, housebeam carving by 40%, clay grenade casting by 45%
• Projected failure/delay buffer: 10–18%, depending on rain and sabotage
He exhaled once.
"New projection: city restored by December 1523, instead of July 1524."
"Weapon stockpile doubled by spring."
"Housing: 8,000 new units completed within nine months."
"Aqueduct and sewer repair accelerated by 3x if carts replace reed baskets."
Ehecatl whispered to himself.
"Four wheels and a horse. That's all it takes to outpace every enemy we've ever had."
"They'll never understand why we finished first. And they won't have time to catch up."
"Cheat. Run simulation again. Factor in external contractors: Cuetlachtli, Tochtli, Cuauhmecatl, Chimalli, Cihuatecuhtli, and Don Sebastián. Estimate combined labor, women, and potential logistical offsets if incentivized correctly. No shared technology. No internal integration unless explicitly noted."
His pupils constricted as the mental figures shifted.
[Cuetlachtli – Huexotzinco Raider / Fanboy]
• Fanatic loyalty = predictable output
• Offer: "Lower weapon prices. Future governorship. Go raid your hometown."
• Projected delivery: 2,500–3,000 slaves, mostly labor-fit, few complaints
"Huexotzinco's got surplus population. Sentimental fool probably thinks he's 'returning in glory.' Good. Let him."
[Tochtli – Totonac Psycho / Liability]
• No title offer; just blood and steel
• Incentive: Early access to experimental weapons
• Expected return: ~1,200 laborers, ~400 women, all stolen
"Since he's already running amok, it wouldn't hurt to let the psycho play with whatever weapons we make, and gather data from it."
[Cuauhmecatl – Cholulan Priest / Zealot]
• Believes Ehecatl is some prophecy incarnate
• Incentive: Recognition. Installed as puppet ruler of Cholula.
• Projected return: Religious migration, 1,000–2,000 willing followers
"I roll my eyes, he kneels. I nod, he brings me bodies. Fine. Bless him."
[Chimalli – Merchant Syndicate / Calculated]
• Has numbers, logistics, storage, buyers, sellers
• Offers: Cash, slaves, goods, information
• Asks only for: Stable lanes and privileges
• Output: Sustained supply line of ~500–700 per month
"Greedy. But efficient. Doesn't need glory. Just margins."
⸻
[Cihuatecuhtli – Noblewoman / Political Survivor]
• Leverages revenge, matrilineal power, and marriage
• Offer: Herself, her house, and tribute
• Estimated yield: High-skilled noble daughters, midwives, servants, house retainers
"She's attractive. Bitter. Dangerous. If marriage gets me her enemies and their daughters? Worth it."
[Don Sebastián – Castilian Smith Warlord]
• Practical, brutal, well-stocked
• Offer: Regular metal shipments, local women, forge access
• Condition: Ehecatl keeps supplying explosives
"Let the Caxtilteca get drunk on powder. He doesn't realize I'm testing his limits too."
Final Calculation Output (Revised with External Warlords)
• Repopulation acceleration: +23%
• Construction labor pool: +38%
• Weapon production: +3.2x increase
• **New projection: Full restoration by AUGUST 1523
• Enemy buffer time to respond: -5 months
He exhaled sharply through his nose.
"August. Now we're ahead of schedule."
"August does sound nice, but what if we add in conquering from outside the valley?"
"Cheat. Reopen projections. Add conditional modifiers: successful reconquest of the following external altepetl zones — Tlaxcala, Huexotzinco, Cholula (already probable), Tepeaca, Cuetlaxtlan, and Zempoala. Estimate impact on labor supply, skilled artisan absorption, and surplus agricultural zones."
Initial Data Returns
Total regional labor influx (enslaved, loyalist, coerced):
• Tlaxcala: 8,000–10,000 laborers (high resistance, but massive potential)
• Huexotzinco: Already targeted by Cuetlachtli; confirmed surplus
• Cholula: Peacefully integrated under Cuauhmecatl yields up to 3,000 voluntary workers
• Tepeaca: ~2,000–4,000 if raided, mostly fieldhands
• Cuetlaxtlan & Zempoala: Coastal, high value in slaves, gold, and strategic trade
Estimated cumulative boost to recovery effort: +52%
Projected Timeline If External Conquests Succeed:
Earliest City Restoration: May 1523
*Margin of Error: ±2 weeks
Ehecatl stares at the figures, quiet for a long time.
"May."
Another pause.
"Tell me what it would take… if I went even faster."
Cheat Response (Paraphrased):
"To surpass that, you'd need total regional compliance. Immediate use of horses, wheelbarrows, assembly-line techniques, and zero delays from rebellion, sabotage, or disease. Also: full integration of Huexotzinco, Tlaxcala, and coastal zones, plus uninterrupted tribute from surviving altepetl. Total coordination would require imperial administrative control — not just alliances."
"So, in other words complete centralization is necessary for a this."
He smirked.
"I've got time, then."
And then he adds one more command.
"Make a list of which warlords will resist that outcome. I'll deal with them first, also show me potential strategic value if we monopolize smallpox."
CHEAT ANALYSIS: THE VIRUS
• Codename: Huey Cuitlatl (The Great Filth)
• Properties:
Highly infectious. Mortality rate 30–50%. No known indigenous immunity.
Survivors are scarred, weakened, often infertile.
Second exposures? Rare. But not impossible if the strain mutates.
PROJECTION: WEAPONIZATION SCENARIOS
1. Containment Vault (Tier 1)
Objective: Keep infected items in a sealed underground chamber. Open only if disobedience or foreign invasion occurs.
Result: Creates leverage — threat of a second outbreak.
Risk: Internal breach due to sabotage or animal vector.
2. Targeted Outbreak (Tier 2)
Objective: Infect captives from rebellious altepetl, release them during "prisoner returns" or "peace offerings."
Result: Controlled annihilation of enemy populations.
Risk: Impossible to contain once it spreads beyond a threshold. Backlash from surviving neighbors or allies.
3. Reverse Diplomacy (Tier 3)
Objective: Offer "protection" from a second outbreak to those who submit and pay tribute.
Result: Fear-based subjugation. Converts allies without lifting a weapon.
Risk: Must ensure they believe Ehecatl controls the virus — not the gods, not chance.
IMPACT ON CITY REBUILD TIMELINE
• If used as deterrent only (Tier 1 & 3):
Adds +18% compliance rate across external altepetl
Reduces resistance-related delays
New restoration date estimate: Early March 1523
• If used offensively (Tier 2):
Enemy collapse accelerates conquest
Restoration timeline unchanged — but empire-wide fear index spikes by +40%
Long-term stability becomes volatile
Ehecatl exhales slowly.
"So… the very thing that burned our world… might be the spark for our rise."
He pauses.
Then asks the one question that matters:
"Do we know who survived it and why?"
CHEAT RESPONSE:
"Survivor patterns suggest partial immunity based on proximity to European contact zones. Genetic factors inconclusive. Survivors are assets. Track them. Study them."
STRATEGIC RESOLUTION:
Ehecatl issues a hidden directive:
• Establish a vault for infected garments and bodies from the first outbreak
• Assign a secret task force under Chimalli to monitor exposure resistance
• Send false rumors through pochteca traders: "The Mexica now command the Filth."
The candle was long dead, snuffed by its own wax. Only a soft red glow of the coals lingered in the corner, and Ehecatl hadn't moved. His fingers were stiff, hands caked with charcoal dust, and sweat had dried into a thin crust across his neck and collarbone.
He stared at the final slate in front of him. The numbers didn't lie.
January 1523.
From ruin to full restoration in less than a year if the projections held.
He leaned back slowly against the stone wall, shoulders sore, legs numb. His body had begged for sleep hours ago.
But his mind…
His mind was still catching up.
…
…
…
He did it.
He actually did it.
Tenochtitlan was supposed to be gone forever. That was the story, wasn't it? That was what the books taught him, what the documentaries hammered in, what the whitewashed curriculum insisted on.
"They were doomed the moment the ships landed."
"Primitive people against steel and gunpowder."
"Inevitable defeat."
"A proud but tragic civilization."
That was the script.
And now?
Now Cortés was chained in a cage like an animal.
Now cannons and grenades were being forged under Mexica control.
Now merchant envoys came begging to offer wives and silver just to be included.
Now he, HE was estimating an industrial rebuild faster than anything seen on this continent.
He buried his face in his palms.
"What the fuck am I doing?"
He whispered it. Not in panic. Not in shame.
Just… wonder.
He never expected to be part of this.
He never planned to build an empire.
And yet, every day he walked further away from the person he used to be.
The scared boy from the 21st century who knew how this story ended. Who felt helpless, furious, reading about how Mexica people were shattered, turned into museum exhibits and footnotes. Reduced to mascots and tourism backdrops.
He used to wonder
'What if we could have fought back?'
Now he didn't have to wonder.
He was the answer.
His eyes drifted to the wall etched with earlier maps, sketched concepts, city drafts. Not one of them existed in the old world.
None of this did.
Because that world was gone.
This one?
This was his.
He sat there a while, letting the silence stretch. Just him, his heartbeat, and the sound of wind slipping through the shattered doorway like a whisper from the lake.
Tomorrow, he'd meet with the quartermasters.
Tomorrow, he'd begin training the wheelwright crews.
Tomorrow, he'd finalize quotas for tribute labor distribution.
But tonight…
Tonight he just stared at the city through the window.
And smiled.
Not with joy. Not even with pride.
But with the cold, quiet certainty of someone who refused to be erased.
"You said we never stood a chance."
He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.