The Heron River meanders eastward, like a jade belt on the northern land, surrounding the vibrant wilderness. A kingdom's long ship rowed its long oar against the long river and continued to sail upstream to the vast west.
"Rivers...plains...villages...camps..."
The old militiaman Chihuaco stood on the bow of the boat, looking at the open scenery along the coast, which was completely different from the jungle of the Totonac people. On both sides of the Heron River are plains with sparse grass, where you can see running deer and hares.
Among the green vegetation, every few dozen miles, you can see a village with thatched huts or a camp with cave houses dug out. The former belongs to the migrating Huastec tribe, and the latter belongs to the semi-settled Janambre tribe. They all surrendered and paid tribute to the Red Crow tribe, and provided food and clothing.
"What are they growing in these villages? What do they usually eat?"
"Well…"
Hearing his father's farming problem, the wasteland warrior Chippawa pulled his hair helplessly. He thought for a while, then captured a tribal warrior who was rowing a boat, and asked a few questions in Guakili, before answering affirmatively.
"Dad, the Huastec people in the village can farm and grow more crops. The most important ones are corn, pumpkins and beans, just like ours before! They also grow peppers, tomatoes, mango trees and papayas. Tree…"
"As for food, ordinary villagers only eat pumpkins and beans! Corn is made into cakes and presented as tribute to the Red Crow tribe... Oh! They also fish, dig wild vegetables, and dig berries... But in the rich forest, there are fish The lakes are basically occupied by the tribal camps of the Janambre people. They are more fierce, and the docile Huastec villagers generally cannot compete with them."
"As for the camp of the Janambre people and the camp of the Bossalos people further north, they are semi-settled and semi-hunting in the wilderness. Their bow skills are good and they can shoot many birds; their fishing is also good. I would go fishing in the lake; sometimes if I was lucky, I would encounter deer and northern bison, which is a lot of meat!…”
"These wilderness tribes also grow some corn and beans, but the farming work is too rough! They don't care much after sowing the seeds in the spring. After harvesting in the fall, they migrate to the tribe, scurrying around like rabbits without nests... "
Having said this, the wasteland warrior Chipawa looked at the warrior next to him and asked with a smile.
"Isn't that right, Jaka? Every time you go back in autumn, you can't find your own tribe, just like a wolf can't find its den..."
Jaka, the warrior of Janambrae, has blue tattoos on his face. He is not tall but has a strong body. When he heard the question, he widened his eyes, retorted a few words seriously, and then shouted something. The tribal warriors rowing on the boat laughed loudly and howled with excitement.
"Ha ha!…"
"Uh...what did he just say?"
"Dad, Jaka just said, how come the wolves on the grassland can't find their dens? The ones who can't find their dens are stupid and smelly pigs! Haha! Scold yourself..."
"Oh! This year, their tribe will not move, so they built a village east of Warrior Lake. Last year, they followed the big chief to plunder south and captured hundreds of obedient Huastec serfs; this year, they followed the little chief to go north and plundered a A batch of strong Koahuik women...Now that they have people to farm for them and a mother-in-law who can give birth, they are ready to settle down..."
Having said this, the wasteland warrior Chipawa paused, looking a little unsure.
"Jaka also said that Sister Alan is planning to create a new tribe of hundreds of people in their tribe. From now on, you don't have to pay for food. You only need to go out and fight for the chiefs... Hey! Why haven't I heard this news? We all have fifty Now that we have a hundred-man army, do we still need to build a new one? Do we want to continue to fight north?..."
On the longboat, Priest Mecat pricked his ears, listening thoughtfully to the conversation between father and son.
The Red Crow tribe expanded very quickly, very quickly. In just a few years, they developed from an exiled tribe that had experienced the fighting in the North to a tribal alliance in the North. The Red Crow Tribe is the leader of this tribal alliance. Other tribes that were either forced to surrender or joined on their own initiative accepted the leadership of the Red Crow Tribe and were even merged into it.
Under the rule of this large tribe, there are Huastec villages that pay tribute and food, farming and settlement, and wilderness tribal camps that go out to fight and semi-hunt and settle. The latter gradually transformed into a settled village, and established a stable tribal army during long-term campaigns...
"Chief Red Crow, he behaves in a very orderly manner... He's not like an ordinary canine leader!..."
Thinking of this, Priest Mekart felt a little worried. The rise of such a bellicose tribal alliance in the northeastern corner of the world does not know what impact it will have on the future of the alliance. And with such a long distance, it would be difficult for either the Alliance or the Kingdom to send troops to intervene and interrupt the process of their rise.
"O Lord God! The Red Crow Tribe nominally surrenders to the Alliance. Are they a threat to the kingdom or a possible ally?..."
The long boat continued westward, rowing the waves with its long oars. It took five days to travel more than two hundred miles until it reached the vast and vast Warrior Lake. And here, tribal camps, farmlands and villages, large and small, are spread out everywhere in the fields around the lake, like chili seeds sprinkled on corn tortillas.
Chihuaco, an old militiaman, looked towards the shore of the lake and saw groups of tribal warriors carrying spears from west to east. He asked with confusion on his face.
"Chipawa, how come there are so many tribal people ready for war during this busy farming season?"
"Dad! They are not going to fight, but have just returned from the north! They are the newly disbanded tribal centurions and are about to return to their respective tribes. As for their tribal lands, there are captured serfs and some left behind. Women and old people came to farm. And the goods and people stolen from this war are much greater than the harvest from farming!…"
Chippawa, the wasteland warrior, smiled and spoke proudly.
"After the autumn harvest last year, Sister Alan led a team of forty centurions from Red Crow City and went north to conquer the tribes in the wasteland that refused to surrender! We swept through all the tribes in the wasteland until we reached Flint Lake, six hundred miles away. We We fought a big battle there and defeated several coalition forces from the large Koahuik tribe! Haha! It was so refreshing!…”
"Then we walked another two hundred miles northeast and came to the big river in the north. We grabbed a lot of it and then returned one after another! Haha! It was really fun!"
"What? The great northern river? Where is it? What's its name?"
"Yes! It's a long, long river! It's about... seven hundred miles away in the north, right?... It's very wide there, and it's hard to cross without a boat. There are many Koahuik tribes around, and some come from the northern grasslands. The chaotic tribe... Oh! I also met a group of prairie people who were hunting northern bison, and they seemed to be called Lipan. The tribal warriors from both sides looked at each other across the river for a long time, roared, and then left..."
The wasteland warrior Chipawa thought for a while and said with some uncertainty.
"As for the name of that big river...it seems that the people of Coahuík call it Río Bravo?"
"Northern bison...Lipan people...Rio Bravo..."
Hearing this, the old militiaman thought for a while but had no impression. He estimated that there was still an extended northern continent with countless northern tribes, just like what he had heard about during his first voyage to explore. Thinking of this, he couldn't help but lower his head and pray sincerely.
"Ah! Lord God bless you! I beg you..."
"Don't! Don't let your blind Majesty know where that place is... Otherwise, he might send me there again!"
Note: The Bravo River is the Rio Grande on the US-Mexico border and is the fifth largest river in North America.
