Aztec Eternals

In August, there were heavy rains, dark clouds shrouded the fields, and the world was full of floods. This is not a suitable season for fighting, so the fighting stopped for a while. Both the Mexica Alliance and the Kingdom of Tarasco are mobilizing their forces, preparing for a more brutal war.

The rainy season is still there, and the new batch of gunpowder weapons can only be placed in the innermost layer of the warehouse and cannot be used. They are wrapped in layers, put into airtight clay pots, and stored carefully. The soil nitrate in gunpowder has water-absorbing properties, and it will absorb water when the air is humid, reducing the performance of gunpowder, so gunpowder needs to be dried frequently. And these soil nitrates are easily soluble in water. Once they are washed away by heavy rain, the gunpowder will lose its power.

Standing on the watchtower of the wooden fort, Shulot bid farewell to the main force of the returning sailors. In this rainy season, gunpowder weapons are difficult to use, and the alliance's navy does not have a clear advantage, so it goes to a decisive battle with the Tarasco navy. The young commander asked Anatri to return to the east again, bringing in more reinforcements from the capital.

On the magnificent boat, Anatri still stands tall and straight in the rain. She was in good spirits, and saluted farewell to the commander-in-chief's banner. Then, her eyes turned and fell on Bertard who was behind the young commander. There was a fierce fighting intent in her eyes, and there was undisguised appreciation in her expression.

It was windy and windy, and the Navy's fleet only rested for a few days before setting sail again to the east. Shulot watched the huge fleet go upstream, and the female warriors on the big boat drifted away. Then he turned his head and looked at the warrior commander with a smile.

"Bothard, I heard that last time we saw you off, you had a contest with Anatri. Who won in the end? You seemed to be back very late that day."

The quiet warrior commander raised his head, stared at His Highness silently for a moment, and then answered in a low voice.

"After two rounds of competition, there was no winner or loser. Your Highness, it's time for us to head north to negotiate with the Otomi people."

Shulot smiled slightly and nodded.

"Let the new reinforcements garrison the fortress. Bring the rested 10,000 advance troops, and we will march north tomorrow!"

Early in the morning of the second day, the rain stopped a little. Ten thousand Mexica warriors gathered in the main castle, armed with a forest of clubs and longbows. They are fully equipped and prepared for a long time, ready to go into battle at any time. The long garrison has long made the warriors eager to fight.

Shulot entrusted the defense of the main castle to his father. Immediately, he carried the battle flag on his back, waved his big hand, and the marching bamboo flute sounded, and the army set off slowly.

The Mexica army surged forward, and the scouts were sent out for ten miles, and the soldiers pointed all the way north. Ten thousand samurai walked through the rolling and dense forests, through the sparsely populated mountain villages, and reached the vast fields dozens of miles south of Ottopan City. The Milpa farmland starts to be dense here, and the fields are full of vigorous new seedlings, which is the hope of the Otomi people for the new year.

The farmers in the fields were overwhelmed by the army, and fled north in horror, leaving behind the fields that had been working hard for several months. A year ago, the aggression of the Mexica was still vivid and unforgettable. Otomi's scouts watched all the way, delivering disturbing news one after another.

Shulot ordered the warriors to avoid farmland, choose suitable terrain to camp, and prepare for war. The heavy rain fell again, and the young commander waited calmly in the newly built camp.

Two days later, Otomi's negotiating team arrived in a hurry, accompanied by only a few hundred warriors.

Shulot did not go out to meet him. Dressed in solemn commander's attire, with a high bright feather crown on his head and a golden sun amulet around his neck, he sits high in the big tent of the camp. In the land of the Otomi, he welcomes the guests who live here as a master.

Xiulot on the stone seat looked at the messengers entering the big tent with a blank expression.

The Otomi emissary was still an old acquaintance. After nearly a year, the young commander saw the old priest Oort again. The other party was already pale and haggard, without the power of a groundhog roaring. Beside the old priest was General Ottopan Giova, who was also the commander of the legion of warriors in the city.

The old priest raised his all-white head and carefully looked at Shulot, his pupils shrank slightly. Shulot looked at him calmly, looking at his unusually old face and still clear eyes.

Giova's majestic body stood erect. He stared at the young commander in the middle with narrow and sharp eyes like a coyote glaring at him. His hands were empty, and his thick knuckles were clenched tightly, still giving people a strong oppression. Berthard frowned, feeling strong hostility, and then clenched the baton in his hand.

The two sides stared at each other silently for a moment. Shulot spoke first.

"In the name of the Supreme Lord Vitzilopochtli! I come with the warrior's club and the feather of peace. Otomi, I have limited patience and cannot wait long. Do not let the feather fall from my hands!"

Hearing the obvious threat, anger rose in Giova's eyes, and he clenched his hands tightly, but remained silent.

The old priest Ort nodded, took a deep breath, and replied loudly.

"In the name of the original god Omete Otl! I come here with the greetings of my friends. Mexicans, the two sides have already ceased fighting and signed a peace treaty under the witness of the gods. Now, in this busy and beautiful season, you Come with a large army, do you want to violate the sacred peace agreement?!"

Xiulot replied without changing his face.

"Otomi, the sacred peace treaty is always valid, and you are the ones who violated the peace treaty! You accepted the terms of the alliance, obtained the last batch of food, and promised to send troops to harass the Tarascos in the south. However, you did not keep your promise, You are just pretending! The army has come to the west, and I have seen with my own eyes that the spring plowing of the Tarasco people is normal and has not been disturbed in any way. Now, I need an explanation, and more importantly, a compensation!"

Oort lowered his head slightly, suppressing his powerless anger. He closed his eyes and opened them again, speaking calmly.

"Mexicans, we have harassed the southern coast, and the warriors shed blood. But as you can see, the south coast is heavily guarded, with stone forts and wooden villages densely covered, and the blood of the warriors cannot be shed there in vain. We are willing to pay a large sum of money. Gold, silver and precious stones, as the sincerity of peace between the two parties!"

Shulot watched for a moment, the old priest looked calm, and Giova had an angry look on his face. Afterwards, he calmly shook his head and got straight to the point.

"The eyes of the Lord God watch everything, and there is nothing to hide. Wise Priest Ort, you should understand all this. As the commander-in-chief of the Northern Army, I cannot tolerate this potential tacit understanding between you and the Tarascos!"

Hearing this, the old priest's face was serious, he watched the majestic young commander, and secretly sighed.

"The wish of the Otomi people has never been concealed, it is only peace and self-cultivation. Merciful Your Highness Shulot, we do not want to participate in the struggle between the Mexica Alliance and the Kingdom of Tarasco. The original god witnessed, and we will not Fall to either side!"

Xiulot looked into Oort's eyes, smiled slightly, and continued to shake his head mercilessly.

"Priest Ort, I can trust your sincerity, but I can't trust the Otomi people. It is impossible for the Northern Route Army to go south and let you stay in the rear, taking huge risks that cannot be determined. You must show your attitude, and in deciding the world In war, to be the ally of the Mexica or to be the enemy of the Mexica? Choose, Otomi, live or die!"

Hearing the undisguised threat, General Giova couldn't take it anymore, he roared angrily.

"The militant Mexica and the Otomi have never been afraid of war! The mountain city of Ottopan is as strong as a meteorite that fell from the sky, and you will not be able to break through it for an era! If you insist on war, you will be the ones who will be destroyed Own!"

The old priest did not stop him. He allowed General Giova to speak, but fixed his eyes on Shulot's expression.

Shulot lowered his eyes slightly. He was silent for a moment, then announced calmly.

"If you are unwilling to join the alliance to fight, the Northern Route Army will stop going south and go north instead. From the end of the month, we will destroy your autumn harvest! Within a month, all the cultivation will be reduced to ashes, and the hard work of the first season will be in vain. , You can’t even collect the seeds. Another year of no crops, by this time next year, you will suffer the famine that will destroy your homeland!”

Hearing such a cruel announcement, Giova roared like an erupting volcano.

"First you want to destroy the spring plowing, and now you want to destroy the autumn harvest. Destroy the autumn harvest, evil Mexica! You are only more than 10,000 people here. As long as we promise the envoys of the Tarascos, we can work together to expel you and drive you away." Into the roaring Leman!"

Hearing Tarasco's messenger, Shulot stared. Immediately, he responded indifferently with a serious expression.

"Let's face it, Otomi! Two lines of Mexica troops are pressing down on the border, and the southern line is the main force of the attack. Hundreds of thousands of Mexica warriors attack day and night, Sitaquarobong is crumbling, and the Tarascos themselves cannot protect themselves. ! They will not venture north to lay siege to a strong wooden fort. Their main naval force is absent, and they cannot cross the river!"

Then, Shulot smiled confidently.

"A new batch of reinforcements has arrived. The North Route Army now has 20,000 warriors, and the follow-up army is also coming. This is a force that you cannot resist! What's more, the times are changing, and new weapons have appeared. I can no longer protect you!"

Hearing the words of the new weapon, the old priest Ort's expression changed. He thought for a moment, then raised his hand to stop Giova's growl.

"Honorable Your Highness Shulot, I heard from the scouts that when you attacked the wooden fort on the north bank of the Leman River, you used a powerful longbow. I wonder if you can show it?"

Hearing the old priest's sudden request, Shulot was slightly taken aback. He thought for a while, thinking of the capture of the Tarascos, and finally nodded.

"Tels, you shoot an arrow out of the big tent, and then go show them the real thing."

Upon hearing the order, the guards opened the tent door, and the fresh wind blew in front of them, bringing moist water vapor, which cheered everyone up.

Afterwards, Ters, the personal guard in charge of guarding, smiled plainly. He turned around on the spot, held the longbow in his hand, took out a copper arrow, and prepared to string. The simple samurai's gaze moved a little, and he stopped fifty meters away, where was the wooden box where the Otomi people delivered gifts. He aimed slightly, the longbow buzzed, and let go of the arrow. The copper arrow passed through the opened tent door like electricity, and was nailed to the wooden box with a "bang", the tail of the arrow trembled continuously.

Giova looked serious. He strode forward, pulled out the copper arrow from the wooden box, and stood there for a while. Then, he silently came to the side of the old priest, whispered a few words, and the old priest looked solemn.

Tells also walked to the old priest with a big bow in his hand.

The old priest Ort took a step closer and bowed down. He opened his old eyes, his gaze was like a torch, and he carefully looked at every detail.

He looked at the sturdy longbow, gestured at the length of the bow, and then pinched the hardness of the wood with his nails, frowning. This strong wood is extremely difficult to work and must be worked over a long period of time with scarce copper tools. Then, he stroked the winding silk bowstring, observed the connection between the bow body and the bowstring, and analyzed the specific technical details.

Then, he took the copper arrow from Giova, and took a closer look at the almost cylindrical wooden shaft. He tried the hardness of the arrow shaft again with his nails, frowning greatly. This kind of arrow shaft consumes more labor. Copper arrowheads, strong shafts, and expensive feathers are all costs that the Otomi cannot afford.

Finally, he looked at the sloping bone wrench in Tells's hand, and let out a deep sigh.

"Mexicans, you are indeed extremely powerful and rich. You can equip a large amount of this kind of hard longbow and consume such a large amount of expensive feather arrows. Your craftsmen must have thousands!"

After a moment of emotion, Oort changed his tone and looked closely at Shulot's face.

"However, Your Highness Shulot, with this weapon, it is still just a delusion to threaten the Ottopan mountain city! You cannot afford the loss of the warriors who attacked the city. Unless, what other preparations do you have?"

Shulot smiled confidently. He looked calm, did not answer, just spoke.

"Priest Ort, as long as you send troops to the south and plunder the land of the Tarascos! We will help you cross the river and take you away. We don't need the harvest of the plunder, and all the property belongs to you. The same , this time, you don't need to attack the fortified Acambaro state. The Otomi warriors are free to choose, go all the way west, plunder the Sakapu state opposite Guamare, and even plunder the rich Chapala Lake District! "

Having said that, Shulot paused for a moment, and looked at the old priest solemnly.

"Priest Ort, you were born in Guamare State, and you know the surrounding situation better than I do. There are Otomi tribes that you are familiar with. I believe that you can find suitable targets!"

Oort thought for a moment, asking about the most important key.

"Your Highness Shulot, you asked us to join the war against Tarasco, but allowed us to form an independent army and choose our own targets?"

Xiuluo nodded and answered frankly.

"Exactly. Priest Ort, we need more actions to build mutual trust, and it is not suitable for directly forming a coalition army. However, I will send a small team of warriors to follow your legion and report regularly. You must truly communicate with Tara The Scots fight, otherwise...the league will never tolerate another breach of contract!"

After hearing these words, the old priest Ort fell into a long silence. Giova first looked fiercely at the Mexica. Afterwards, he stroked his hair restlessly, waiting for the old priest's wise final decision.

The bonfire in the big tent crackled, the wind outside the big tent whistled and whimpered, and the people in the silent big tent struggled. After a while, Oort looked at the commander of the Mexica with difficulty, the familiar young Highness.

"His Royal Highness Xiulot, we signed the last covenant. You provided Ottopan City with food for five months as agreed, and helped us through the most difficult time. I don't believe in the Mexica Alliance, but I believe in you, and I am only willing to make an oath with you!"

There was a strange look in the eyes of the old priest. He stared at His Highness on the stone seat, and finally roared loudly, shaking people's hearts.

"The peace treaty of the gods has ended! If you want us to join the war in Tarasco, you must in the name of the noble ancestors! Cut off your hair, cut your palms, and sign a lifelong blood contract with the Otomi under the witness of all the generals. Swear the covenant and engrave all the promises on the immortal stone!"

Xiulot was silent for a long time before slowly nodding with a complicated expression.

"Priest Ort, thank you for your trust. Who will swear with me, is it you?"

The old priest Ort shook his head firmly. He turned and pointed his finger at the shocked Giova.

"No! My life is about to come to an end. He will be the one who signs a lifelong blood oath with you!"