Dry dry season, mild sunshine, lush forests, and rolling mountains. Otomi villages are always placed in valleys between mountains, where flowing springs nourish the barren bean fields. There is a shallow fence outside the village to guard against coyote attacks. Small sheds are built around the village to raise turkeys and native dogs.
This crude defense was of no use to the samurai. The mountain people who were fettered by the village were like birds whose feet were tied. Under the attack of the cat, they could only cry feebly.
Soon, villages and farmland were in flames, and women and children were driven away, leaving only black smoke that obscured the sun. This is a cruel war.
Shulot followed the team of two hundred people and watched everything in front of him silently. His three views are like a block of iron, being constantly beaten, changed, and forged into steel.
He didn't know how Avitt convinced the commander-in-chief. Maybe it’s food, maybe it’s efficiency, maybe it’s friendship, maybe it’s the future. Early the next morning, Totec changed his plan, divided the warriors into teams of two hundred, burned the villages, executed the men, but spared the women and children, and drove them as far as possible to the city of Guamare.
The process of destruction accelerated rapidly. After a few more days, all villages within two days of Guamare had disappeared. Thousands of hungry women and children were also accumulated in the camp. The war potential of the Otomi people was constantly being undermined. Eliminating.
Avit sent an envoy to negotiate with the city of Guamare, but there was a quarrel at the scene and no agreement was reached.
At night, Shulot saw an envoy quietly coming to the camp, and then bags of food were hoisted down from the top of the city. After receiving two weeks of food for eight thousand people, Totec nodded with satisfaction.
Early the next morning, the army was preparing to break camp. Before leaving, Shulot took one last look at the city of Guamare. The priests in black and white robes were also at the top of the city, watching the retreating Mexica Legion below the city.
From a distance, the little coyote priest and the old black and white priest looked at each other. They could only see faint dots, and could not hear each other's voices. Only complex emotions surged.
Shulot shook his head and turned to leave. But he saw a young follower warrior digging a small hole in the ground with a wooden shovel. Then he put a small cotton bag into the pit and buried it again. There was something vaguely wrapped in the small bag.
Finally, the young warrior knelt down, prayed to the sun, and recited the name of the god "Huitzilopochtli".
Shulot was a little surprised. He looked at the young warrior and asked, "My warrior, what kind of ceremony is this?"
The follower replied respectfully: "Dear priest, this is not a formal ceremony. Before joining the war last year, I just gave birth to a boy. His umbilical cord is in the cloth bag, and I always carry it with me."
"This should be the farthest battlefield I can reach. According to the custom of warriors, I buried my son's umbilical cord here and prayed for the protection of the God of War. This way, when he grows up, he can become a powerful Mexica warrior , follow the Mexica Legion and set foot on this land again to completely conquer the Otomi people."
"Is it the custom of warriors..." Shulot murmured, and then nodded to the warrior: "The great patron saint will bless you and your son! We will come back again."
The legion then set off, burned the camp outside Guamare, released the useless prisoners, and headed for Otopan.
The returning Mexican Legion turned into a squid. Teams of warriors kept extending like tentacles, and warriors kept returning. Along the way were burning flames, fields reduced to ashes, and women scattered in all directions. and children.
"Within twenty years, there will be no threat to the city-state of Guamare." Avitt couldn't help but sigh as he walked, looking at the fireworks along the way, "because they could not gather together the food for the expedition, nor the Without sufficient logistics manpower, even if there are still warriors, they can only stay in the city."
"But there are other city-states of the Otomi people further to the west." Shulot thought for a while and said.
"It's too far there. Even if we send warriors, the food supplies must come from Guamare." Avitt smiled, "Not to mention, seeing the tragic situation in Guamare, the small city-states of Tecaicos may not dare to continue. Join the war.”
Xiuluo nodded, which was also a kind of shock.
"What's the situation on the king's side?" Shulot asked curiously.
"It's still the same." Avitt shook his head. "The Otopans couldn't be killed. The king was a little impatient and tried to attack once, but was shot all the way up from the bottom of the mountain. The ladder hadn't even been put up on the top of the city. The stones continued to fall down one after another. After I barely climbed up once, the ladder was quickly pushed down and the leading warrior was gone. It is estimated that more than 400 warriors and 500 militiamen were killed in total, and even more were injured."
Xiulote also shook his head, "We lost another camp. This kind of mountain city cannot be defeated by force. The king lost his head this time."
"Haha." Avitt smiled softly, "Totec is not here, and it is not feasible to rely on the king alone to fight. Kasar is greedy for merit and is not a qualified commander in a siege."
"Indeed." Shulot thought about the king's theologian qualities and his grandfather's song.
"In the final analysis, this is all a problem of grain roads. The efficiency of grain roads in mountains and forests is too low," said Shulot.
"I remember that the west of the capital is connected to the Lema River. The Lema River flows along the plateau, all the way west through the Mexica city-state of Tepanicapan, and then flows westward through the border between the Otomi and Tarasco peoples. , can flow to the southern border of the city-state of Otopan, and even to the mountains and forests south of the city-state of Guamare."
"The distance from this river to Otopan City is only less than a week's mountain road. If we can use this river, then the Otomi people will not be able to threaten our food routes." Shulot analyzed the situation that broke the situation. possible.
Avit turned to face the south. To the south were the mountains and forests, and to the river. Beyond the river were the Tarascans.
"This route is indeed the shortest," Avitt agreed, "but the Lema River is right under the noses of the Tarascans. The Tarascan legions can arrive at any time."
"We cannot place the key node of food supply here, otherwise once the Tarascans declare war, the army will be cut off from supplies."
"What if we maintain two supply lines at the same time?" Shulot thought.
"This is the key now. We can't figure out the attitude of the Tarascans and don't want to irritate them." Avitt tapped his forehead lightly with his hand. "The scouts found that the Tarascans were fighting with the Otomi people. Legions have been assembled on the northern border. There is a high probability of invading the weak Otomi people to the north, but we must also be careful."
"Actually, I am more worried about the movements of the Alliance's life and death enemy, the Tlaxcalans, than the movements of the Tlaxcalans. This war has been going on for a long time. Now all the nearby forces have been mobilized. Prepare for war."
Shulot was also worried, but this worry could not change the overall situation.
"Maybe quitting the army is the best choice."
The return trip of more than half a month passed quickly. Along with the black smoke along the way, the Mexican Legion mercilessly destroyed the foundation of the Otomi people and plundered the food along the way.
When he saw the solid mountain city standing in the distance again, Shulot was already very tired both physically and mentally. The legion soon returned to the siege camp, and Totec ordered it to disband.
Hulot dragged his tired body and returned to the familiar cabin with Bertard's support.
The moment he entered the room, he finally relaxed, raised his head, shook off his feather crest, and let out a long yawn. Then take out a wooden board and write and draw on it. Then he let go of his pen, threw his head back on the deerskin carpet, and fell asleep directly.
Bertard gently carried Xuellot to the bed, and looked at the young man's sleeping face, and he smiled slightly. Then he covered the boy with a thin quilt.
Then he picked up the wooden board on the table and saw a black tengu painted on the left, a three-color feathered snake painted on the right, and a line of words below.
"War...struggle...and...peace...peace." Bertard recognized the Chinese characters one by one, and then couldn't help but sigh, "The priest really loves to learn."
