Funeral

The setting sun receded toward the west, returning to the end of the Divine Kingdom.

The crimson clouds filling the sky drifted away with it, like a life fading into nothingness.

Then darkness came, swallowing the red earth.

It buried all cruelty, and the captive-taking came to an end.

Dots of campfire sprang up beneath the hills.

The warriors counted their spoils, while Avet and Kasal discussed the casualties from the battle just fought.

More than three hundred Mexica Warriors had died in this battle, and over seven hundred had been wounded.

Most of the casualties had occurred during the siege atop the mountain, especially among the warriors on the half-encircled flank. Balda's assault force had suffered few losses, while not a single Jaguar Warrior led by Kasal had fallen.

The more elite a force was, the more cautiously it was used. It was often reserved for the decisive blow, while prolonged hard fighting was avoided whenever possible.

The Otomi People, meanwhile, had suffered grievous losses. Before the great rout, some three to four hundred warriors had been killed or wounded. After the rout began, whole units of warriors were wiped out one after another. Within half an hour, fifteen to sixteen hundred had been killed or wounded on the mountain, and another seven to eight hundred had been taken captive afterward.

In the end, only a little over a thousand warriors escaped from the mountaintop. Their formations had completely collapsed; their bones had been thoroughly broken. Even if the fleeing warriors somehow returned to Otopan City, they would need several months of rest before they could fight again.

Giova still escaped, taking the last warrior battalion with him. These forests and mountains were the homeland of the Otomi People. Once they fled into the woods, they were like rats slipping back into their holes, vanishing without a trace.

The militia were counted far more roughly. The Otomi militia caught in the pincer attack alongside the warriors atop the mountain had suffered the worst, with nearly half killed or wounded. The militia engaged by Balda had also taken heavy losses. The four thousand militia sent around the rear to hold the enemy down had fled the fastest and lost little. As for the final two Stone Thrower battalions, those seasoned hunters had only hurriedly launched two inaccurate volleys before withdrawing into the forest ahead of the Jaguar Warriors' charge.

All in all, the militia had lost only a little over two thousand dead, with another two thousand or so taken captive. Yet the scattered militia would likely flee straight back to their homelands and no longer take part in the war to come.

"The militia have the weakest fighting strength, yet in every battle they suffer the fewest losses. Their losses never even exceed thirty percent. Xiu, do you know why?"

Avet was in an excellent mood. He blinked and asked.

"Because every time, they rout once they have suffered twenty percent casualties?"

Xiu smiled as he guessed.

"The Main God bears witness! You got it right. But there's another reason."

Avet smiled brightly as he mocked them.

"The militia carry the least equipment. Some of them have nothing but a loincloth. Once they start running, no one can catch them!"

"Haaha!"

Xiu laughed and shook his head. On the Americas, where there was no cavalry, the militia did have that advantage: they could flee easily, just like the Ashigaru of Wagoku during the Warring States period.

But Xiu soon could not laugh anymore. More than three hundred Mexica Warrior corpses lay neatly arranged in a freshly dug pit. He stared at those frozen faces. Many were people he had met only yesterday, yet today they would keep company with the yellow earth. The battlefield was a place of slaughter, where life was fickle as morning dew, and something stirred within him.

The army was noisy, and the victorious warriors' emotions surged even more fiercely. Most of the dead had come from the same villages and communities, living alongside one another day and night, only to be parted in a single day. Since the battle had been won, Alliance tradition called for a funeral to comfort those who still lived.

In this age of divine authority, Priests enjoyed the highest power. Yet as bridges between mortals and gods, they also had to perform rites and soothe the hearts of the people. Worshipping Heaven, Earth Mother, and the spirits, praying for bountiful grain, and guiding the souls of the dead were responsibilities the Priests could not escape.

The Alliance Warriors looked toward Xiu expectantly. Avet, meanwhile, smiled and winked at him.

Xiu sighed and straightened his back. He recalled the rites his grandfather had taught him, put on a long feathered crown, draped himself in a black Celestial Dog robe, raised the Divine Staff of wood and gemstones, built a Divine Altar upon the hill, and lit a roaring bonfire.

The name Xolotl symbolized death and rebirth. It could not have suited this moment more perfectly.

Thousands of warriors stood beneath the Divine Altar, waiting solemnly. Then desolate drums began to sound, and mournful clay flutes played, carrying the night's elegy into the air.

"The earth trembles, and the Mexica People begin to sing."

The figure of a young Priest danced atop the Divine Altar. With a clear, ringing voice, he cried out, praying for the gods' response and calling the souls of the departed home.

Beneath the Divine Altar, tens of thousands of warriors stripped off their upper garments and began to dance the wild steps of warriors. Then the bonfire flickered and swayed, while the earth trembled and shook.

This was the dance.

"He made the Jaguar dance with him,

Come and behold life's turning and its final rest.

He stood upon the Eagle Regiment's wings and cried out,

Weep, Mexica People!

Such was the battlefield,

The place where we honored the gods with sacred blood!"

The warriors' steps grew more urgent. The drums fell like rain, mingling with the cries of jaguars and eagles, as though they had come from the savage wilderness of ages past.

Soon, amid the drumbeat rhythm of marching feet, the Jaguar Warriors quietly departed. When they returned, the groans of many wounded came with them. A thousand captives unable to move easily had been placed around the great pit.

This was the preparation.

"The Divine Eagle was dyed blood-red,

The Jaguar roared amid death.

Armor shattered,

Long crowns were cast away.

Splendid gemstones fell like rain,

Bright feathers burned.

Warriors' bodies shattered,

Submerged in blood,

Returning to dust."

The warriors danced in utter abandon. The earth-shaking drums and footsteps drowned out the wails before life departed. Warm liquid gushed forth, flooding over the corpses of those slain in the pit, bringing the sacrificial words of the prayer to pass.

This was the sacrifice.

"There was nothing in this world

As sacred as death upon the battlefield,

As dazzling as flowers bursting into bloom!

With the life force that had passed away,

We repaid the Main God who bestowed life:

Huitzilopochtli,

Huitzilopochtli!

Huitzilopochtli!!!"

At the sound of the god's name, the warriors stopped their steps and bowed low upon the warm earth. Devotion filled their faces as they shouted the Guardian Deity's name in unison, three times.

This was the summoning of the god.

"The City of Gods,

Teotihuacan,

Was also the tomb of gods,

A bridge linking life and death.

My heart longed for it,

Yet it lay beyond all reach.

The dead awakened there,

The dead rose there,

The dead lived there,

The dead found peace there.

This was the Main God's promise,

And we prayed for the departed.

The god had arrived!"

With the young Priest's proclamation, the warriors beneath the Divine Altar suddenly erupted into clamor! They prayed loudly, called out the names of the dead, spoke their final words of parting, and then fell silent all at once.

This was the farewell.

"The god had arrived!

To guide the souls of the departed

To the Red Kingdom.

Then the god said:

You have awakened.

Look upon this red sky,

Look upon this red dawn,

Look upon this red Guan,

Look upon this red swift.

The butterflies had already flown away."

Above and below the altar, all was silent. The silent warriors raised stone shovels and buried every trace of bright red. Only the distant drums and the blessing clay flutes remained in the wind.

This was rebirth.

The Main God returned to the heavens, and the souls went on to the Divine Kingdom. Xiu extinguished the bonfire, while the eastern sky slowly revealed the first faint glimmer of light.

The Alliance Warriors also raised their heads and gazed at the distant Morning Star, the anchor of their spirits. In this age, people's hearts lay above the nine heavens and below the nine depths, never in the human world.

Afterward, warriors climbed the hill one after another, cut off a lock of their hair, and placed it beside Xiu.

Xiu stood upon the altar, looking at the warriors in surprise. He knew this was the highest courtesy, signifying that the warriors would follow him and were willing to fight for him.

The funeral had ended. Dawn had arrived.