Aztec Eternals

The wind in June is mighty, driving the layers of clouds and mists. It rose from the Great Lakes of the Gulf of Mexico, and after half a month, it finally came to the plains of the Patzcuaro Lake District and brought the first rain of the rainy season.

The sound of rain falling, the patter of light rain splashing from the sky, fell on the half-barren land of Lake Patzcuaro, making the soil softer and more suitable for farming. The drizzle was flying, soaking the endless farmland under reclamation, and also wet the farmland, the busy young man with his head bowed.

The weather in June has begun to be hot. Thousands of young adults are collectively farming in the fields, like a busy colony of ants. It is quite spectacular to see from a distance. Most of the young men are bare-chested, with only a loincloth tied around their waists, a bamboo basket on their backs, and a digging stick in their hands to keep them sharp while working. The field under the feet of the young adults has been simply marked with wooden sticks and divided into obvious strips, and each person has their own length to complete.

The old militiaman Chihuaco used both hands to forcefully insert the digging stick into the field, and then rotated it to dig a finger-deep hole. Then, he took out a few corn seeds from the bamboo basket behind his back, carefully put them into the small hole dug out with his hands, and then used his feet to slightly gather up the burned plant ash to roughly fill up the small hole. finished.

Then, the old militiaman took a step with his right foot, and skillfully dug the next hole at a distance of more than half a meter. He has been doing these farming tasks for more than ten years, and he is already familiar with them. Picking it up again at this time, there is a kind of kindness and peace from the heart.

The drizzle was caressing, the breeze was leisurely, and half a day passed by in a hurry. The old militiamen plowed for more than a hundred steps in a row before straightening up and sighing leisurely. He looked up at the dark cloudy sky, wiped the rain and sweat off his face with his hands, and shook his hands vigorously. Then, he turned his head and looked at Wezti, who was a little behind.

"Stupid wood, hurry up! The sky is dark, and the rain is likely to get heavier. Finish the morning's work early, and go to the pergola for a rest together."

"okay."

Wei Ziti wrapped his turban and looked up at the old man. With a small body, he can do farm work much faster than this young man. He responded with a muffled sound, and continued digging with the pointed stone blade of the digging stick.

"This scene is really lively! It's like a big swarm of honey bees."

The old militiaman rested his feet and looked around. He first saw the busy young people around him, and sighed in admiration. Then he tilted his head to look at the long strip of land he had cultivated.

This kind of narrow and long strip was newly drawn by the great master, and it was called "mu"; and then it was stipulated that one foot on the left and right was called a "step". Each mu has a length of 240 steps and a width of one step. It is marked by wooden sticks inserted by the master in advance, and each mu is spaced at half a step. Young adults just keep their heads down and work on one line. The planting per acre is still the same as before, first planting corn, then beans, and finally pumpkins.

Chivaco is an old farmer. He stretched out his hands, and after careful calculation for a long time, he roughly figured it out. In a normal year, on ordinary land, the harvest of this mu of land is about 80 catties of grain, with corn as the main food and kidney beans as supplementary food. In addition, there are an additional 100-200 catties of pumpkin as miscellaneous grains to satisfy the hunger, and pumpkin leaves can also be eaten as vegetables. The corn in the field should not be planted too densely, and a hole can only be planted with one foot, otherwise it will not produce cobs.

Generally speaking, the harvest in the field fluctuates with the land, and is also related to precipitation, fertilizer, light, and heat. On the fertile and good land by the lake, the harvest will obviously increase by 20%, while on the barren and bad land in the mountains, it will decrease by 20%. Tropical regions have no worries about light and heat. Generally speaking, the biggest limitation is precipitation.

In terms of precipitation, the Patzcuaro Lake area is a valley in the plateau, similar to the Sichuan Basin, and the annual precipitation is similar to that of the Texcoco Lake area, at 1000-1500 mm. The precipitation from the mountains on both sides will turn into streams and come together. There is no shortage of water for agricultural production, but the distribution of rainfall is uneven, and there is a risk of flooding during the rainy season.

The climate here is a tropical grassland climate, with an average annual temperature of more than 20 degrees, divided into distinct dry seasons and rainy seasons. In August and September, when the rainy season is at its peak, the area of ​​Lake Patzcuaro will expand significantly, so the planting in the lakeside area must be done with caution, by piling up slightly higher fields, or building floating fields on the water like the Mexica people do.

As for the soil fertility in the field, in this era when there is a lack of iron farm tools and large livestock, and it is impossible to plow deeply, it can only be solved through natural fertilizers, fallow and burning. Corn is planted at such a large distance, and beans are also used to fix nitrogen in order to maintain sufficient nutrient supply.

"Well, the harvest of four acres of land, more than 300 catties of grains, plus wild vegetables in the field, is just enough to consume for a year. Is this what the great master said about 'one stone'?"

Thinking of this, Chivako raised his head and counted the strips he wanted to complete, and there were exactly ten fingers. The old militiaman exhaled deeply again. He complained in a low voice, but a smile appeared on his face.

"How ruthless, a young adult planted ten acres! When harvesting is busy in October, I would probably be so tired that I would spit in my mouth and collapse into a single piece like a fish on the shore. But ah, I really look forward to the harvest scene!"

"Uncle, I'm done. There's a lot of work, and I'm more tired than before in the village. Let's go and take a break!"

Wezti finally caught up with the progress. Panting, he took Chivaco with him and walked towards the arbor among the fields. These neat fields are clear and distinct, and every few miles, there is a large thatched pergola. There are several large barrels in the pergola, some farm tools and seeds are piled in the corner, and a simple altar of the main god is in the middle. It's raining today, and the sun isn't too strong. When the rain stops, I can't work under the sun at noon, so I have to rest in the shade.

As the two approached, two Mexica warriors appeared in the pergola, sitting cross-legged on the ground and chatting. The weather was really hot, they didn't wear armor, but they were holding battle clubs, and there were sharp bone whistles hanging around their necks. These two warriors are the overseers of the field. They are responsible for supervising the work of the young adults, guarding the altar of the main god, and taking care of the agricultural tools, buckets and seeds in the arbor.

"you."

Seeing someone approaching for a rest, a young warrior raised his eyes and was about to yell. Another elderly warrior hurriedly stopped and tugged at his arm.

"Let them rest. They have made great achievements and met His Highness. It is said that they will be named nobles!"

The young samurai swallowed the words that followed. He glanced at it twice, then turned his head, and said in a low voice bitterly.

"It's just the Prepeca militia who betrayed the old master, and they don't have any extraordinary martial arts skills. They can even be named nobles of the alliance and stand on our heads! Hey, His Highness said that he would give us land and rewards, Why hasn’t there been any movement yet? Instead, let us warriors take care of the chores in the field.”

"When did His Highness miss the decision? No matter what his background is, no matter whether he is a seller or not, rewarding meritorious deeds is His Highness's consistent approach, and everyone has always believed in it. Some time ago, Your Highness has distributed the rewards of gold, silver and cloth, and has been promoted. Is it the level of warrior? There is a shortage of Dingkou now, if it is true that the field is granted, do you plant it yourself? We just listen to His Highness!"

"Of course your Highness is right. It's just that gambling is not allowed in the army, and there is no fun in the city. Even the women are organized to work. The gold and silver are not much use in our hands! As warriors of the alliance, we have to fight on the battlefield." Looking for a future. As long as you save enough captives and heads, and make enough contributions, you can become a military nobleman in the future! What future do you have if you hang around in the fields."

Hearing this, the old warrior also sighed. His eyes showed eagerness to fight, like a wolf who was secretly enduring his minions, but he continued to persuade him.

"Gold and silver stay in your hands, even if you can't spend them here, you can go to the market in the hinterland of the alliance to spend them. When the family moves from the hinterland of the alliance, we will lay a foundation here. Later, we will build houses, buy herbs, and buy slaves. Either way requires a lot of money.”

"As for the merits, follow Your Highness, are you afraid that there will be no credits? After the Western Expeditions are fought one after another, everyone is exhausted, and they have to rest for a while. When the autumn harvest is completed, go out to conquer at that time, and it will be more calamity Grab some food and food!"

The young warrior nodded with an expectant smile on his face. By this time, Chivaco and Wezti had entered the arbor. The Mexica warriors simply greeted each other, then stopped talking.

Chivaco returned the gift with a smile on his old face. Then, he walked to the side of the wooden barrel, scooped it up with a wooden ladle, and gulped water directly into the ladle. The cold well water flows into the throat, dispelling the dryness and heat of the body, and it also has a little sweet and salty taste.

The water was pumped from nearby deep wells by peasants, put into wooden barrels, pushed by a new type of wheeled cart, and transported in the morning. The great master has a request that everyone is not allowed to drink lake water during the rainy season, and must drink clean well water or stream water. And the alliance never lacks salt, there is a large salt field near the capital, and the great master asked the peasants to add salt to the water to better maintain their stamina.

As for the wheeled vehicles, the old militiaman also looked carefully at them curiously. This kind of wheelbarrow can move freely on the muddy ground of the lake district plain, but it is hard to say in the forest with intertwined trees. There are two wooden handles on the wheelbarrow, a board box for loading, and a big wheel below. The center of the big wheel is empty, and there is a circle of supporting wooden strips, which are cut into neat lengths and supported, and there are also two circles of shiny copper nails for reinforcement. Anyway, it is time-consuming and laborious to look at. It must be made with bronze tools, and the cost is also expensive. It's tight, like something old men use.

Beside the old militiaman, Wezti simply drank two sips of water, and then came to the altar in the center of the arbor. The altar was built of blocks of wood and stone, with the sun symbol of the main Mexica god placed on it, surrounded by a circle of sun-dried grains, mainly corn kernels, bean kernels and pumpkin seeds.

Wezti lowered his head and silently prayed in his heart, chanting the name of the main god, praying for a good harvest this year.

Usually, during the spring plowing, the priests of the village lead everyone to pray to the God of Harvest. Now the Alliance runs everything, and the Mexica priests also travel to perform rituals. It is said that the power of the Lord God is very strong, and he can make everything round, and he also cares about the harvest. Hearing the priests' narration, Stupid Wood is a little skeptical, but it is better to pray than not to pray, and let's take a look at the harvest this autumn. how.

After resting for a quarter of an hour, the two continued to return to work in the field, and it was time for dinner as soon as they were busy. At this time, the rain stopped slightly, and the dark clouds became thinner. The sun hides behind the clouds, and on the dark edge of the dark clouds, it dips into a brilliant red glow, which is inexplicably moving.

It was a day of hard work, and I only planted more than one and a half acres, and another five or six days were busy for ten acres.

Chivako wiped off his sweat and took a look at the tip of the digging stick. In less than two days, the blade of the stone had worn a lot, and the blade must be replaced in the middle. Fortunately, it is said that the great lord has already made arrangements. The craftsmen in the city are using bronze tools to make spare agricultural tools for the young adults who cultivate outside the city.

The old militiaman had used bronze spears and knew that this metal was quite durable, but the production was scarce and the cost was high, so they always gave priority to tools and weapons. As for the bronze farm tools, that is temporarily hopeless.

In fact, digging a hole for planting is actually okay, anyway, you don’t dig the ground much anyway, and you can use a stone digging stick as well. The real labor is the sickle when harvesting. If you have a sharp sickle, you can save a lot of effort. As far as sharpness is concerned, the alliance's obsidian sharp blade is the sharpest, much faster than ordinary bronze blades. It's just that the origin of obsidian is limited, it wears out quickly, and the cost is also high.

The old militiaman walked leisurely along the ridge of the field, while looking at the sky, thinking wildly. The young adults around stopped their work one by one and gathered into a walking team. The young men were talking about today's food, and the field became noisy. From time to time, someone saluted and greeted Chivaco, and the old militia responded with a smile.

The Mexica warriors maintained the order of the team and returned together, leaving only one man on duty in the arbor. The peasants had to sleep in the fields overnight to watch over them. If they lost farm tools or damaged the altar, it would be a serious crime to have their hair cut, whipped or even beheaded.

Of course, this kind of hard work on night duty is not Chivaco's turn. He is now the captain of the Tuntian Army, with a militia brigade of 200 people under his command. Yes, the young men are all descendants of Tarasco, and now they are arranged by the great master to do collective farm work. They are organized in the form of an army and live in a collective camp. They have to get up on time every day, pray, have breakfast, and do farm work until evening, then pray again, have dinner, and then return to the camp to rest.

The current life is to farm in the form of the army, and then support themselves, and the surplus food is used as military rations for expeditions. The number of surrendered troops was calculated in tens of thousands, and they were all broken up at this time, and they were divided into thirty battalions with a battalion of a thousand men as a unit. The officers of each battalion are served by Mexica warriors, Mexica militiamen, Tarasco surrenders who have made contributions, or Tarasco surrenders who surrendered earlier.

Puap is now leading the 1,000-man battalion, and most of the other old brothers are captains of 200 men. Only Wezti has given up his position as captain and has been quietly following the old militiamen.

The crowd gathered at the end of the field, then roughly separated into different groups, and returned to the camp with noisy voices. The captains of each team yelled and cursed loudly, and the young men marched amidst the yelling and chaos, but barely maintained the basic order.

The old militiamen led their own brigade, as if they were leading a group of turkeys, and kept yelling in their mouths. After a few days of collective labor constraints, these young adults already have rough rules. At least they won't stop halfway, relieve themselves, or catch hares in the grass. It's also possible that this was the effect of the Mexica warrior's whip.

At the forefront of the queue, Puap was leading the Tuntian camp with a straight face. He finally became a hereditary nobleman, but he still has to lead his subordinates to do such hard work in the fields. Master Huitu is full of dissatisfaction now, but he doesn't dare to express it, because this is a task that His Highness strictly requires and attaches great importance to.

When the spring plowing started a few days ago, His Highness even went to the field in person, leading a group of senior commanders and generals, each of whom planted more than an acre of land. A legion leader who looks like a monkey is very good at farming, and even planted two acres at the same time. Since His Highness and the commanders demonstrated in person, officers at all levels naturally did not dare to neglect, at least they should pass the limelight.

Mr. Huitu thought about the good days after the limelight had passed, a smile gradually appeared on his face, but a group of well-groomed garrison troops gathered in front of him.

Seeing the pace of the army on the opposite side, Puap's face froze. After looking at it for a while, he realized that it was a thousand-man battalion composed purely of warriors. Among the thirty garrison camps, there are about four or five such warrior garrison camps, all of which come from Tarasco warriors who surrendered in previous battles. And the troops in front of them were extremely well-organized, and the battalion commander at the head was the young "Sky" Patriarch, Horta.

Not far away, Horta had a gloomy face, like a creditor collecting debts. His subordinates are family warriors who follow loyally. They have always been one body and work together, and His Highness has not dismantled and reorganized.

In the past two days, terrible news has come from the northwest: the sky family, which has been passed down for two hundred years, has been completely cleaned by Prince Feather, and has since disappeared in the Chapala Lake area. For this reason, His Highness personally summoned the head of the sky family, spoke kindly to appease him, and promised to give the noble daughter of Mexica as his wife, so that the sky family could establish a foundation in the alliance.

Faced with His Highness's reassurance, Ortanono should be quite grateful in his heart, but he couldn't show a smile on his face. The hatred accumulated in his heart made him yearn for revenge and fighting, longing for the day when he would attack the Chapala Lake District.

Under the leadership of the commander-in-chief, the two camps gradually approached like this. Puap weighed it for a moment, then stopped first, signaling for the sky warriors to go first. Horta nodded proudly and walked away, but after walking a few steps, he remembered something again, and quickly turned back in front of the gray soil warrior.

"Ash Puap?"

"Respected Patriarch of the Sky." Puap's face changed, and he bowed his head first.

Horta, who came from a hereditary nobleman, bowed his head in return. He squeezed out a stiff smile, and looked at the new nobleman with a shallow foundation in front of him.

"Noble Huitu, I have something to ask for your help, please don't refuse."

"You say."

"His Royal Highness asked us to garrison fields. Each person in the battalion can complete ten acres, and a battalion can cover thousands of people."

"really."

"My battalion is full of warriors, not very good at farming. Can you send some old farmers to help out?"

Puap was silent for a moment, then smiled and nodded in agreement.

"No problem. Generals Preepeca are supposed to help each other."

"good!"

Horta finally showed a sincere smile. He patted Puap on the shoulder and said with a smile.

"Dear Huitu Noble, I will tell His Highness about your help to me. Lord God bless you! May we accumulate enough food as soon as possible to conquer the remnants of the damned kingdom!"

Faced with this blessing, Master Huitu was stunned for a moment, then smiled.

"Lord God bless! May we become sharp battle axes in the hands of His Highness! May His Highness lead us to pacify the four corners of the country!"

"Haha!" The two looked at each other and laughed out loud at the same time. The dim red sunset glowed all over the land, and the laughter of Prepeca's generals echoed in the desolate wilderness after the war, and also fluttered over the endless newly reclaimed farmland. This laughter was hearty, full of killing intent, and full of golden hope!

The author carefully consulted the relevant agricultural information, and then sorted out the agricultural data and conditions of this era. Agriculture is the foundation of ancient civilization. Population, economic scale, military maintenance, including a series of systems of the protagonist, all rely on agriculture, so we will try our best to be authentic and reliable. A related map is available for your reference. Well, I am trying my best to ask for tickets!