NOVPUB"The Mexica are known for their proficiency in sacrifices, and all the parts of the world sing praises of their piety. I wonder if I’ll ever have the chance to witness that magnificent sacrificial ceremony with my own eyes..."
At this thought, a chill suddenly struck the King’s heart. He couldn’t help but lift his head and gaze toward the southern sky.
From the "Palace of Wind," traveling southeast for four to five hundred li, one would reach the state of Xitaqualo. The undulating mountain forests hindered the movement of large-scale armies, with rivers flowing north to south serving as natural pathways for marching troops. Dense stone forts dotted the strategic points along the rivers.
The summer sun fell from the sky, illuminating the flags atop the stone forts. The breeze caused the flags to flutter, clearly displaying the patterns, a third of which were already the sun and the hummingbird.
Nobility scion Iskali, with a commander’s long banner of three and a half meters on his back, stood on a hill, firmly watching ahead.
Two hundred meters in front lay a small stone fort made of greenstone. The fort was stained with traces of slaughter, with scattered corpses and broken arrows around. The highest point of the watchtower was adorned with the Eagle Banner of the Tarasco Royal Family. A Jaguar Warrior in yellow armor and beast helmet, his body soaked in blood, strode to the top of the watchtower and snapped the Eagle Banner. Behind him, a seasoned warrior in dark green war clothes presented a new banner solemnly, his head bowed.
Then, the Jaguar Warrior forcefully planted the new banner at the highest point. Facing the strong wind, he let out a mighty cry, calling upon the Chief Divine’s name. The banner unfurled in the breeze, revealing the vivid emblems of the sun and the hummingbird. At that moment, thousands of Mexica warriors cheered loudly, praising the victory granted by the Chief Divine!
On the hill, Iskali too bowed his head, covered his prominent cheekbones with a hand, and prayed silently. Then, with a stern expression and cold light flickering in his eyes, he called for his trusted aide calmly.
"How many captives from this battle?"
"Two hundred Tarasco warriors, five hundred militia, most of them wounded."
"Leave none."
Iskali waved his hand coldly, his voice as indifferent as usual. This stone fort had resisted resolutely, maintaining its ground for a full five days in the face of enemies several times its number and despite the formidable longbows and the bombardment of stones. The Alliance warriors, while storming the fort, had also lost over two hundred men... The commander did not intend to give any prisoners the chance to convert.
The trusted aide bowed and left promptly. Shortly after, the accompanying priests erected a simple altar to pray to the highest Chief Divine and offered up the sacrifices. The priests’ sacred chanting soon echoed inside and outside the fort, as thousands of warriors knelt before the Sacred Fire, finding solace for their souls and renewing their will to fight.
Iskali also knelt to pray. While his lips muttered prayers, his mind drifted with the breeze toward the Capital City.
"It is already past mid-July, and only a third of the Xitaqualo state has been conquered. The resistance of the Tarascan people grows ever more tenacious, and the losses among the warriors ever greater. Esteemed King, when will you arrive with the main army?"
The wind continued on its way. Behind the southern route commander, a series of wooden forts extended until the beginning of the supply route at the state of Raziko. Among the forests surrounding the camps lay many bodies of Tarasco soldiers, staining the soil beneath red. Meanwhile, the Mexica warriors and militia were buried in shallow mounds around the camps, resting in eternal peace after a moment’s cry and struggle, regardless of friend or foe.
The warm sunlight fell equally upon miles of land, yet the ground below had changed. In the Mexican Valley at this time, the land was lush and green. Wildflowers bloomed beside the roads, and young shoots in the fields grew vigorous and strong.
The farmers carefully weeded their fields, tending to the corn, soy, and pumpkins. Occasionally, they would pause in their toil to observe the large troops of militia passing by, noting their sharp stone spears and the tall bamboo baskets on their backs—these were the militia transporting food to the front lines in the south.
As the vanguard of warriors passed, the bold farmer would quietly ask a few questions, inquiring about what the Tarasco people in the west were like. The clash two hundred li away took place on enemy territory, and the Alliance’s spring farming went on as always. For the civilians of the Alliance, war seemed as distant as a thousand li away, at the very edge of the world.
The residents of the Lake Capital City were clearly more knowledgeable and experienced. They gathered in the bustling market of Tlatelolco in the North City, discussing the latest, albeit inaccurate, news brought by busy caravans. Guided by community priests, the Capital City’s inhabitants talked loudly, imagining the situation of war sweeping through like a broken bamboo, discussing the victory that was sure to be achieved.
Inside the King’s Palace, Aweit was seated high on his throne, draped in a majestic and authoritative robe. He held the latest parchment reports, reviewing the mobilization reports from the Texcoco Lake District. By the King’s side, Gillim stood with his hands tied, holding pen and paper, his expression solemn, uttering not a sound.
The King held all military movements firmly in his hands. Looking at the tally marks on the parchment, he performed rapid and accurate mental calculations without needing others to report or assist him. After a while, Aweit nodded in satisfaction.
"The vassals from each region seem to be quite obedient thus far. The Vastec, the Mistec, and the Zapotecs have all sent the second tribute of the summer. The distant Zapotecs have been underhanded, delivering only two-thirds of what the Alliance demanded. Given the Alliance’s preoccupation with farming and warfare, it is indeed not feasible to send troops against them. However, this appears more like a test from the vassals, not to be indulged at will!"
After pondering for a moment, Aweit made a firm decision.
