The vast night was always busy, and the scattered daytime was hurried too. Amidst the interchange of night and day, the warriors of the Tarasco Kingdom moved quietly, startling the birds in the mountains and leaving nothing but the faint rustling of the wind. The auspicious day of the Sun God was approaching, and the reconnaissance of the Mexica Alliance noticeably withdrew. Legions prepared for a grand ceremony, bringing a brief peace to the frontline.
Late into the night the next day, the wooden doors of the High Mountain Fortress swung silently open. Under the protection of the Copper-axe Guards, the royal banner led the way. The Eagle Warrior, shaking its black wings, disappeared into the forests of the West. Ten thousand elite soldiers gradually gathered from several fortresses behind, forming a retreating flood. The warriors, holding sporadic torches, raced silently towards the Capital City of the West.