The King’s garrisoned stone fort sat atop a hill nearly a hundred meters high, in an extremely perilous position that was the core of the southern defensive line. The watchtower atop the fortress was the highest point in the region, offering a commanding view that laid the entire battlefield bare.
The clear sunshine bathed the lofty summit of the stone fort, where samurai stationed there saluted their supreme King. A fresh breeze swept through the wooden watchtower, the flags of the three gods unfurled in the wind, and the royal Eagle Banner fluttered boldly in the sky. In the very center of the watchtower stood the royal standard, passed down for a hundred years, from the hands of the predecessor monarch, Tariacuri, to this day.
Su’angua stood beneath the great flag, silently looking up. The royal eagle, its wings spread, soared gloriously on the flag. Then, he gazed toward the frontline of battle, his chest swelling with emotion. Before him lay rolling hills covered in lush, tall forests, stretching towards the majestic mountains of the East. Among the hills and beside streams, there were stone forts and wooden fortresses dotting the mountains. The Kingdom and Alliance’s banners alternated and drew near each other, fluttering mercilessly on the battlefield.
At this moment, the sounds of fierce combat carried on the distant wind, occasionally mixed with the piercing screams of agony, proclaiming the cruelty of war. In front of the hillside stone fort at the very front lines, one could vaguely discern the earthen ramparts where archers from both sides exchanged arrows and fell in succession. From time to time, warriors fell from the high ground, twisting into bizarre shapes on the ground, adding new stains to the earth.
On the ground, the Mexica samurai held their shields high, braving the storm of stones and feathered arrows from the city walls, hoisting long wooden and bamboo ladders before suddenly slamming them against the battlements again. Immediately, the samurai wielding war clubs charged up with a ferocious cry, clashing with the teeming militia at the top, then falling silently. Usually, a Mexica samurai could rely on his shield and cotton armor to forcibly slay several militia before being pierced by a copper spear from an unknown assailant and returning his soul to the Divine Kingdom.
When a concentrated volley from the longbows outside the fort struck, dozens of Tarasco militiamen died instantly, tightening the breached defenses. With the Mexica nobility’s Eagle Banner war group taking the lead, the Mexica samurai seized the opportunity to climb up, gathering more and more behind their shields. Faced with this critical moment, the Kingdom’s military-service nobility set an example, leading the ready Tarasco samurai with their copper spears into the fray, striking the first blow against the elite enemy forces. Then, the vassal chieftains followed suit, leading the face-tattooed Tekos warriors with their stone hammers and copper spears, roaring as they joined the battle group.
These warriors, clad in war armor, fought fiercely, invoking the names of the gods, heading off to different Divine Lands. The clubs from both sides crushed heads, copper spears pierced through chests and bellies, stone hammers snapped shoulders, as they embraced each other and fell together. Dead bodies kept rolling off the ramparts, some landing within the fort, where alert militia would step forward. They would pry open arms that were still warm to strip off blood-stained armor and don it themselves, in hope of gaining the slightest chance of survival.
However, in the King’s eyes, these tiny figures desperately struggling in battle were no more than tens of thousands of ants struggling beneath his throne. Their fate was already sealed!
"The southern line originally had over ten thousand samurai and thirty thousand militiamen. I’ve brought two thousand Copper-axe Guards, five thousand elite spear-wielding militiamen, and five thousand ferocious barbarian mercenaries. The Tekos from the South have sent ten thousand tribal warriors. Then the Lake Region sent another twenty thousand militiamen. This amounts to twenty-three thousand samurai, ten thousand elite militiamen, and fifty thousand defending militiamen!"
Swells of emotion surged within Su’angua’s heart, for this was a tremendous army, capable of dominating the world. 𝒏𝙤𝙫𝒑𝙪𝙗.𝙘𝒐𝙢
Suddenly, a thunderous "bang" resounded in succession, along with the cheers of the Mexica people. The King looked up again, to see the enemy’s massive siege engines hurling a volley of heavy stone projectiles. The wildly flying stone shots lacked precision, yet those that by chance struck the battlements felled several of the defending enemy. The actual lethality of the stone shots was not significant, but under the weight of stones that could be dozens of kilograms, the dead were horrifically mangled. The morale of the militiamen plummeted in the face of the siege engines’ roar.
The thought of the opposing forces weighed heavily on Su’angua’s mind again, a mountainous pressure settling upon his shoulders.
"Since fighting began in June, nearly a fourth of my forces have been lost, with five thousand samurai and fifteen thousand militiamen dead on the southern front! The Mexica have constructed siege engines capable of hurling stones and earthen platforms for stationing longbowmen. The small wooden fortresses can’t hold out for long, only the stone forts in advantageous terrain can staunchly defend."
"Surrounding a few key forts, the Kingdom has deployed thirteen thousand samurai and thirty thousand ordinary militiamen, fighting the Mexica on all fronts. Hundreds die or are wounded daily, and the consumed supplies are counted by the hundred thousands of kilograms!"
The young King’s expression was grave but resolute. In his eyes was a steadfast confidence, fearless of all combat.
"My battle flag stands here, and the southern line is as stable as the towering Chololo Volcano! Even with new weapons, the Mexica warriors’ casualties cannot be few, such an offensive cannot continue for much longer! The first batch of imitated longbows has already been deployed to the battlefield, letting the Mexica taste their own medicine."
With this thought, Su’angua emitted a long howl, gazing towards the distant East. From his vantage point, he could vaguely make out another vast stone fort, where the Mexica King’s banner waved proudly.
King Aweit sat calmly in the great hall of the stone fort, flipping through the pages of a book. His demeanor was composed, indifferent to the brutal combat taking place outside. The specifics of frontline combat were planned by the skilled Commander-in-Chief Iskali and executed by the loyal Great General Stanley. The King needed only to wait patiently.