NOVPUBSu’angua remained silent. He watched the Black Wolf Banner across from him, pondering deeply for a while, when a strange brilliance suddenly flashed in his eyes.
"I hear the Mexica Commander-in-Chief is called Xiulote, quite young, not yet twenty?"
A trusted aide beside him promptly stepped forward, bowing to reply.
"Your Majesty is wise. According to the intelligence, the Marshal and Deputy Marshal on the northern route are descendants of the Mexica Royal Family, offspring of Itzcoatl. The Deputy Marshal is the father Xiuxoke, and the Marshal is his son Xiulote, both adopting names from the legacy of the God of Death. Moreover, Xiulote is the nominal heir to the current Alliance King, Aweit. It is said that he is only fifteen, rumored to be a reincarnation of a Sage, possessed of divine wisdom from previous lives."
Su’angua shook his head slightly. Even with innate intelligence, commanding an army to achieve such results at fifteen seemed improbable – this was likely an exaggeration by the Mexica. But even if he were twenty, that was still very young, and his experience in certain areas must necessarily be lacking. 𝘯𝑜𝘷𝘱𝘶𝘣.𝘤𝘰𝑚
"Born from a branch family, victorious in battles, youthful vigor..."
The young King pondered for a while, his thoughts becoming clearer. He summoned his trusted aide.
"In the name of the Tarasco Royal Family, as my Envoy, invite Mexica His Highness to a meeting on the battlefield."
Afterward, Su’angua gestured for his trusted aide to draw closer, whispering into his ear.
"Hint in your words, that the King of Tarasco intends to surrender to His Highness Mexica. The King is willing to give up the great Capital City and the fertile southern territories, asking only to be given a fief in the desolate southwestern mountains, preserving the continuity of the Royal Family. Specific terms can be discussed face-to-face, but His Highness’s personal promise must be obtained."
The trusted aide opened his eyes in disbelief, looking towards the majestic ruler.
"Your Majesty, this, this..."
"I have made up my mind, go quickly and pass the message!"
Su’angua’s face was as still as water, his voice stern as he watched his trusted aide bow his head and silently make his way to the front line. Only then did he slightly turn his head, summoning the Great General of the Personal Guard.
"Yuku, my loyal hunting dog, you have always been brave and skilled in archery, have you become accustomed to the new Longbow?"
In the Prepetcha language, Yuku signifies hunting dog and Coyote. In the Tarasco Kingdom, this was a noble family with a century of heritage, always serving as the Personal Guard of the Kingdom. Hearing the King’s inquiry, a middle-aged warrior with an earnest face stepped forward silently. He knelt on one knee like a statue, bowing his head solemnly.
"Your Majesty, with the new Longbow, a bird in flight within sixty steps."
"And if the bird is still, how far can you assure a hit?"
Yuku slightly raised his head, revealing his profound eyes. He followed the King’s gaze, pondering for a moment, and answered cautiously.
"Within one hundred and twenty steps, I could attempt it. Within one hundred steps, I would surely hit the Black Wolf."
Su’angua nodded slightly and then gave an order.
"Yuku, quickly gather ten of the best archers among the Imperial Guards. Later, accompany me to meet the Mexica Commander-in-Chief."
Then, he gestured for Yuku to come closer, whispering two sentences. The other party respectfully bowed with a serious demeanor and strode away.
The young King thought for a moment, then spoke out loud again.
"Summon the Priests to start the Sacred Fire, perform the pre-battle ritual, and pray to the trinity of gods! Bring forth the copper armor gifted by the Ivachio Coppersmiths, as well as the sturdy copper helmets!"
The solemn ranks of the army unfolded with a clink, the burning flames crackled to life. The Priests of Tarasco built the divine altar, sparing no expense in casting baskets of spices into the fire, igniting pleasing divine smoke. Amidst the twining blue smoke, Su’angua narrowed his eyes. His gaze shifted to his trusted Envoy, watching as the Envoy walked out of their formation, approached the enemy lines, then climbed a small hill, until he stood before the Black Wolf’s Commander’s Flag.
Symbolizing the God of Death, the Black Wolf flew high on the flag, howling up at the newly risen sun. Beneath the flag, the Young Commander showed a look of surprise as he saw the enemy Envoy kneel before him.
"The King of Tarasco, Cazonci of the Prepetcha, the eagle of the lands amidst the lake, His Majesty Su’angua, extends his solemn regards to Your Highness of Mexica, Divine Revelator of the Tenochtitlán people, the Black Wolf of the City of the Gods, Marshal Xiulote... For the glory of the gods, two great Alliances fight a deadly battle, sacred blood flows wantonly... At this moment, the earth is submerged in crimson, the world has reached the end of the divine war... Kings meet under the watchful eyes of the gods, leaving their immortal declarations..."
"As the Supreme Sun God ascends into the sky, the moon falls behind the mountains. The eagle of the lake is willing to land on the Cactus, allowing its spines to pierce its wings... It bows its head and cries softly to the mighty Black Wolf, offering up the fattest fish from Lake Patzcuaro... From this moment on, the eagle shall enter the caverns of the southwest, guarding the frontier there for the sun..."
Xiulote skipped the ritualistic preamble, mulled over the metaphorical phrases, then asked in surprise.
"Are you saying, in the face of the two armies, Su’angua is willing to surrender to the Alliance, offering up the Patzcuaro Lake region? The southwest, guarding... is he requesting a fief in the southwest?"
The Envoy pursed his lips, solemnly nodded his head without a word. His expression carried a hint of despair along with a final stubborn resistance.
"No, the esteemed Majesty did not say this. He simply wishes for Your Highness of Mexica to meet him before the formation. Following the noble protocol of the Tula people, the royal families of two divine descendants should meet and greet each other before the formal battle commences. This battle is destined to be immortalized by poets, becoming an eternal chapter in their works. The two Kings should meet before the battle, to leave their names in the annals of epics!"
Observing the Envoy’s demeanor, Xiulote showed a slight smile.
"You are a fine Envoy; you may step back and wait for now!"
Two Personal Guard Warriors then stepped forward and led the enemy Envoy away. Xiulote looked towards the distant enemy’s Royal Banner, falling into deep thought. After a while, he turned his attention to his Head Warrior.
"Bertade, a battle between our forces is imminent that will decide the fate of the world. At this time, Su’angua is inviting me to meet before the formation, what could be his intention?"
Bertade pondered for a moment, then replied calmly.
"Your Highness, Su’angua is either truly surrendering or harboring ill intentions. He might hope to persuade Your Highness, seeking an opportunity; or perhaps he is merely stalling for time, waiting for reinforcements. But his thoughts are not important. What matters is what Your Highness intends. Do you wish for Su’angua to surrender?"
Hearing the Head Warrior’s question, Xiulote laughed heartily.
"Of course! The outcome of this battle is still unknown. Although our forces hold a numerical advantage, the enemy is entirely composed of elite troops."
The Young Commander gazed at the opposing side. Tens of thousands of Tarasco Royal Army troops arrayed in a formidable formation, well-equipped, lining up steadily in front of the Mexica legion. A warm breeze carried the distant sounds of the enemy’s faint cheers and the aroma of spices. The Priests of Tarasco danced wildly around the Sacred Fire on the divine altar, lifting the morale of the great army.
"The Royal Legion is different from the Chapala Legion; they are unified, determined to fight to the death. The Northern Army is composed entirely of my loyal direct line, and even if we emerge victorious from a bloody battle, who knows how many warriors will be lost. If just by meeting once, I can receive the surrender of the Tarasco army, it would be like a generous gift from the Chief Divine! Qinchongcan would fall without a fight, and even this year’s spring plowing in the Lake Region could be on time!"
A smile appeared on Xiulote’s face. He hoped to preserve the vitality of the lands around the lake, whether they be civilians or warriors. Because in his heart, he harbored vast future plans, too many grand schemes.
Bertade looked at the Young Commander, observing the bright light in his eyes. The Head Warrior fell silent for a moment before speaking implacably.
"Then, my Prince, can you accept Su’angua’s surrender?"
