Hearing Tessosomok say "begin", the servant standing in the venue bowed to the onlookers and said: "Then, all distinguished guests, please enjoy the simple opening ceremony first."
After saying that, the servant withdrew. Soon, in full view of everyone, a man was escorted to the center of the square. All his clothes were stripped off, leaving only a rag around his waist. There were many bruises on his face, and two front teeth were broken. From the other direction, a sturdy Aztlan warrior walked up. He was fully armed, from a helmet to a shield. As soon as he came on the field, he waved the sharp maquawit in his hand majestically.
Masitra knew this custom in Aztlán. Since hearts obtained in battle were more favored by the Sun War God, the Aztlan would hold a mock joust before killing their captives, in which the sacrificed slave would be allowed to fight with only a branch, while his opponent would Will be equipped with the best weapons. Few people can survive such an unequal battle. Although both sides have not yet taken action, the outcome is already doomed.
"Do you miss this kind of ceremony?" Nesa Hualcoyotel turned around with a smile and said to Masitra, "Although it has been a while, I think you still remember it."
Masitra lowered her head in annoyance. He knew what Nezahualcoyotel was talking about. It was after his city-state was captured by the Aztlan Empire for the first time. In order to establish his authority, the Sun King held such a ceremony in the city-state. The ceremony lasted for a whole week, and 70% of the soldiers who surrendered were taken to the duel and killed. On the seventh day, the blood in the duel field had reached the ankles. Anyone who witnessed that scene would never forget it in their lifetime.
"Ah... look what I said."
Seeing Masitla's disappointed look, Nessa Hualcoyotl laughed and comforted, "Don't worry, the new Tratoani, as long as you are still members of the empire, such a scene will be fine." It will never happen again, I promise.”
"Members of the Empire..."
Masitra smiled miserably. The Aztlan Empire did not regard them as members of any empire. In addition to regular tributes, each city-state had to turn in a certain amount of slaves every year for sacrifice to the empire. For these city-states that did not have the authority to initiate foreign wars, the only source of slaves was the indigenous people in the city-state.
Under the stands, the duel went on as everyone expected. The man holding only a branch was unable to confront the fully armed Aztlan warriors head-on, and could only dodge painfully. But the venue for the duel was limited to a small circle. After a few dodges, he was forced into a desperate situation. The Aztlan warrior knocked the branch out of his hand with a stick and twisted his body. In a burst of cheers, other warriors outside the circle rushed over and suppressed the defeated man, dragging him onto the altar.
The black-clothed priests on the altar had sharpened their daggers. As soon as the man was dragged onto the altar, a priest used his robe to stand between the man and the audience. A shrill scream came from behind the robe, and then the priest holding a knife took out a bloody object from behind the robe and placed it on the altar.
The robe was put away, and the soldiers waiting on the altar dragged the motionless man from the other side of the altar.
Masitra heard Nesa Hualcoyotel, who was sitting in front, sneer: “He quite cares about other people’s feelings.”
After the sacrifice was over, the square became quiet again. There were only bursts of bloody smell, drifting in with the wind from time to time. After a while, there were whispers in the audience. After the fear dissipated, everyone present realized that the blank time was too long.
Tesosomok on the pyramid frowned and turned sideways to ask the servant beside him, "Why hasn't the envoy arrived yet?"
"According to the news just now, the envoy encountered a small problem." The servant replied nervously, "It's about the march..."
…
…
"Your Majesty! Hurry up! Move quickly!" Amy's urging sounded anxiously near the port, "The ceremony has already begun! We are already late!"
"Idiot Amy...huh, you think I don't want to...huh...don't want to hurry up? I still want to discuss business with those Tratoani! Huh...but...huh..."
Ella opened the side window of the chariot, stuck her head out, and panted like a puppy under the sun.
"This is how labor-saving gears work! Although they allow us to move heavy objects, the speed will be slower..."
The road from the port to the venue has been cleared in advance; Swedish and Aztlan soldiers stood on both sides of the road to escort; Amy rode on Fenrir, leading a group of guards with medals in front. Open the way; thousands of soldiers followed behind, with spears standing as densely as a forest.
But such a team is now moving as fast as an old man on crutches by the roadside. The reason was that the chariot being guarded in the middle of the team - although Ella had stepped on the pedals and turned it around, the wheels underneath were still rolling slowly like a snail.
"I was too busy testing the armor and firepower performance. I only tried a little on the deck to see if I could step on it. Sure enough, God is not as good as man..."
"Even a human calculation should have calculated this!" Amy shouted, "At this rate, when will we arrive at the venue?"
"Let the soldiers push... push from behind." Ella gasped, "This way... we can... block faster..."
As soon as he finished speaking, the speed of the chariot suddenly increased, successfully overtaking the old man with a cane walking beside him.
"Oh oh oh oh! No need to push! It's getting faster! I feel like I can do it now..."
Before he finished speaking, the chariot suddenly slowed down again, and was soon overtaken by the old man walking beside him with a cane.
"What's going on?" Ella stepped on the pedal desperately, "My speed is not slowing down at all? What's going on?"
"It was a little downhill," Amy replied, "and now it's a little uphill."
"I just asked Ulf to restore the armor to its original appearance. Why is it so slow? How did those students design it...ahhhhh!" Ella suddenly wailed, "I remembered, they You told me that in order to move this thing, it has to rely on a slope!"
"...I'd better ask the soldiers to hold shovels and shovel all the roads leading to the venue into slopes."
"Is this... too late?"
"I don't know." Amy complained with a cold face, "I only know that at this speed, His Majesty will starve to death on the road and can't even see the gate of the venue."
(End of chapter)
