Aztec Eternals

October is the end of the rainy season, and the sun finally sprinkles generously on the earth, illuminating the way back.

October is also the season when the harvest is complete, and it is the joy of farmers getting food. At this time, Shulot was standing on the hill, looking to the south.

There is the edge of the Mexica Valley, and the fields are already full of withered and yellow corn stalks, and farmers can be vaguely seen busy in the fields, picking up the leaked grain. The monsoon carries the unique fragrance of grains, which is the taste of a good harvest. That was the land of the Mexica.

In the Mexican highlands, the corn harvest tends to start in mid-September and finish by the end of September. This will be the most important ration of farmers in a year, which determines their life and death.

And when he turned and continued northward, there were only stretches of barren fields in front of him, fields already full of withered grass, a village that was reduced to ashes by the Otomi guerrilla, and faint bones between the villages.

These Otomi villages were doomed in the flames of war. If they did not take in the Otomi guerrillas, they would be deemed enemies and destroyed. And once accepted, the punishment of the Mexica will follow. In this way, during the long battle, this land became an uninhabited ghost land.

"The bones are exposed in the wild, and there is no chicken crowing for thousands of miles. This is the land of the Otomi people." The young man sighed.

And in the place close to the army, there were hundreds of skinny and fresh corpses lying here and there. The warriors of the vanguard are replacing worn obsidian blades.

Just now, the forward of the army was suddenly attacked by a group of Otomi guerrilla squads.

Two or three hundred naked Otomi militiamen, armed with stone spears and wooden sticks, screamed wildly, and suddenly rushed out from the forest. Driven by a dozen or so Otomi warriors, they bumped into the front line of jaguar warriors and direct warriors, and then they were mercilessly beaten by batons, turning into warm corpses on the ground without causing any damage.

They were like harmless moths dropped into a bonfire, which crackled once before being reduced to ashes.

The militiamen had just engaged the Mexica warriors. The warriors hiding at the back didn't stop, turned around and fled into the forest. They have accomplished their task of driving the militia to their deaths.

The howling of wild dogs echoed in the mountains and forests. Their eyes were red, and they had eaten corpses a long time ago. At this time, they were attracted by the large-scale army and hung far behind. From their meager experience as dogs, these dangerous two-legged beasts would fight each other and bring them new food, just as a battle had just ended.

Shulot wears a helmet that conceals his face, wears a coyote priest costume, and holds a topaz scepter. He stepped on the ground in front of him, and the soil was slightly dry and hard in the sun. Compared with the soft muddy ground in the rainy season, this kind of ground is much more comfortable to walk on, and it is also more suitable for warriors to fight.

"This kind of attack is meaningless! The forest is sparse, the ground is dry and hard, and the sky is sunny and rainless. The militia has no advantage in terrain at all, and there are not enough numbers. It is impossible for them to cause any harm to the warriors of Mexica. The Otomi Completely insane!"

The boy looked at the militiamen who were as thin as reed sticks. These peasants cannot even be called soldiers. They are just weak, frantically hungry victims.

"The peasants must have had a hard time this year. With the rapid consumption of food by the war and the famine throughout the year, before the new year, at least three out of ten peasants will die, and the rest will be on the verge of death."

Bertard sighed. The vicissitudes of the samurai chief was born in the commoner class, and he felt the pain of the peasants.

"Even so, for the sake of war, the nobles of Otomi will still take away the last rations of the peasants and let more people starve to death. They will fill the warehouses that were empty due to the siege, as well as their own dining tables."

"So." Shulot frowned, "If we leave Hirotepec, instead of helping the local farmers, they will plunder desperately to fill their own granary?"

"Of course! Hirotepec was also besieged by us for four months, and then we were forced to hand over thirty years of tribute. Because of the siege, their autumn harvest last year was not completed.

Planted some spring this year and just harvested a little squash and soybeans the first two months, but it's just a drop in the bucket. The corn was not harvested, and the priests and nobles seized the opportunity to rebel again and fought us again. Now the two armies are facing each other, and the fields are either barren or burned. In the city of Xilotepec, there are at most four months of food left!

If the farmers' rations are not collected, what will happen once the city is besieged by our army again? For their own survival, the nobles will mercilessly let the peasants die!

Now is also the time when they least care about casualties. The crazy guerrillaism of the Otomi people is to reduce the number of militias on purpose. Rather than letting the militias consume food, or starve to death in vain, it is better to let them do some harm to us, let alone prevent the hungry people from rioting. This is the principle of nobility! "

There was calm and deep anger in Bertard's eyes.

After fighting for decades, he has long been accustomed to seeing the life and death of warriors, but he cannot forgive the brutality of the nobles and the hardships of the common people. He wants change to happen. Thinking of hope, the warrior commander silently glanced at Shulot, and stopped talking.

The young man frowned thoughtfully. He remembered the calculations before the decisive battle, and Avet had taught him what a commander's perspective is. In the commander's mind, life is nothing more than a calculated number.

According to his and Avet's original plan, the army would negotiate peace with the Otomi people, rescue Kasar who was in charge of the rear, and 3,000 directly subordinate warriors, and then exchange food with the Otomi people for prisoners. After the peace talks, the whole army went south, evacuated the land of the Otomi people, quickly entered the capital, and formally inherited the throne in the capital.

Finally, control the food supply of the capital and subdue Atotonilco's 30,000 troops.

But now it seems that he still needs to think carefully about how to deal with Hilotepec City. This city-state has fallen into its weakest moment, and it also has its final madness.

Walking in a hurry, the two walked past the cold body of the militiaman. The samurai took no time to bury their enemies, nor were they interested in the odds and ends that the militiamen might have.

As soon as the large group of warriors passed by, the pack of wild dogs behind them swarmed up. They have long been impatient to wait. But this time, they didn't need to dig out the dead bodies from the soil.

After silently thinking for a long time, the boy asked again.

"Since there is insufficient food, why did the nobles of Xilotepec launch a rebellion in such a hurry, are they really willing to sacrifice themselves for the city of Ottopan?"

Bertard looked towards the western mountains and forests, which was in the direction of Ottopan City. He pondered what he knew.

"The main reason is hatred. The priests hated the Mexica legion, as did the nobles and warriors."

The boy thought of the sacrificial plates that were dragged away, the priests who cut their faces and swore. There are also a large pile of confiscated tributes, many of which are engraved with the family crests of nobles. And finally the sacrifices of three thousand men, and those relatives who followed them crying.

"In addition, Ottopan and the Tarrascala must have given them certain promises. Such as food supplies, and military support. If the Mexica army withdraws, they will also be able to get rid of the nearby farmers and wildlings. Among the tribes, those who left no way out plundered food for three or four months."

The boy recalled the countless burning villages and fields under the city of Ottopan, and the cruelty that tens of thousands of civilians were sent to death that night. These were experiences he could not forget.

"Is there any surplus food in Ottopan City? They almost ran out of food." The boy obviously didn't believe it.

"How can the promise of the city-state be counted? Ottopan City was desperate at the time, so it would naturally try its best to deceive and promise. Now, they must also be trying their best to search for the peasants in their own territory, consume their own militia, and guard against the Mexica. Or the attack of the Tarascos.

As for the Tlaxcalans, let alone whether they would. Before Atotonil Cobang was connected, it was impossible for them to transport food to the Otomi people. "

The teenager nodded in agreement. Although the long siege war dragged down the Mexica, the huge gap in national strength and the complete destruction of agricultural production also made the Otomi people desperate at this time. Hirotepec City could not count on the promised support at all.

"Since Ottopan City and Hirotepec City are not of the same mind, there is a lot to do here. Let's deal with them separately!"

Mexica's civil war has just ended, but Otomi's foreign war will continue. As the situation in the world changes, everything will change accordingly. It just depends on how people who adapt to the situation do it.

After a three-day march, the mountain camp finally appeared in front of Xiulot again. Under the magnificent sunset, the boy's command flag was raised high, carrying the king's body and the scepter, and the morale of the four thousand troops was high.

But in front of them, the scale of the mountain camp has expanded again. The dense camps spread out, and the flags of different city-states fluttered among the camps.

Tens of thousands of city-state warriors are stationed on the periphery. They are yellow and thin, tired from the journey, but still have the vigor of a samurai. At this time, they are full of hope to start a fire and cook. Smoke rises from the campsite, reflecting the evening glow, heralding a sunny tomorrow.

"It seems that the 20,000 city-state warriors in the periphery have surrendered. Food is the lifeblood of the army. Whoever controls the food will control the power of the war!" The young man couldn't help smiling.

Seeing the returning army, the warriors along the way stepped forward one after another. They saluted respectfully to the coyote priest and the legion commander, and then peeked at the king's body in awe, and the shining topaz scepter in the boy's hand.

With a confident smile of a winner, Xiulot nodded and responded one by one.

"Now, our strength has grown again! The warriors of Mexica will once again unite under the king's banner, making all enemies tremble."

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