The sun hung high in the sky, shedding its scorching light; heads dangled, dripping with beads of blood. Beneath the brilliance and the crimson, more than ten thousand Tlaxcalan captives, anxious and uneasy, were forced to gather at the village center. Sharp spearheads closed in from all directions. Fierce Samurai showed merciless killing intent. Even the moist air seemed to be filled with the scent of death.
"Tlaxcalans! The Divine Power of the Chief Divine is the sun, is the flame, is light! He shines upon everything on earth from the highest cloud! And all resisters, rebels, non-believers, and wicked ones are on a path to death!"
Holding a long spear, Pimeng stood before hundreds of Samurai, facing tens of thousands of fearful civilians. He spoke coldly, in a not-so-fluent Navajo language, hissing each word.
