Killing and Conquest

On the way to the king's great tent, Xolotl looked at the sky. Deep heavens, high clouds, sunlight that no longer held warmth, and a wind laden with cold.

"It was already the end of December. The ominous days at year's end would soon arrive."

Xolotl thought, lowering his eyes. He silently entered the deep, dim royal tent, as if walking into a beast's lair.

Inside the great tent, King Tizoc still sat high upon his throne, his face like that of a god. His eyes were half-closed, and he seemed as still as an ancient well. The War Priests were absent from today's meeting. On the right side of the tent stood the commanders of the great army, still draped in Sun Stone double-sided cloaks. On the left stood the City-State Legion Commanders, wearing feathered crowns and cloaks of different kinds.

Xolotl saw his father standing at the front of the left side of the tent, his face full of resolve and worry. Only when he saw the two men entering did Xoloc, Legion Commander of the Holy City, smile in delight. He exchanged a glance with Xolotl, then gave the king's younger brother Avet beside him a slight, formal nod.

The brief greeting passed in an instant and drew no one's attention. Soon, Xolotl followed Avet to take his place on the right. He looked around. Most of the generals in the tent were weighed down with worry, and familiar leaders could not help whispering among themselves. For a time, the atmosphere was restless and unsettled.

A bonfire burned in the great tent, making it somewhat brighter. After another moment, when the commanders and legion commanders had all arrived, Tizoc finally opened his eyes. He swept the tent with a fierce gaze, and the voices within gradually lowered until silence finally fell.

Xolotl pondered inwardly. He recalled scenes from the king's previous councils, watched the expressions of those present, and silently counted how long the tent had remained quiet. It seemed the king's prestige had indeed declined.

"I summoned you here for two matters. First, to learn the casualties of each legion. Second, to discuss our next plan."

King Tizoc looked toward the City-State Legion Commanders and asked in a deep voice.

"Let the Main God bear witness! What are your losses?"

The generals came forward one by one to report the losses among their legion warriors. They cursed the cunning of the Otomi People and, in passing, complained that provisions were insufficient, hoping the king would distribute another batch.

Xolotl watched carefully and saw Tizoc's brow gradually furrow.

The siege had already lasted more than three months. The casualties during this time had indeed greatly exceeded everyone's expectations. With the hardships of the rainy season compounded by mountain forest guerrilla warfare, of the fifty thousand Mexica Warriors, more than six hundred had died of illness, over four hundred had fallen in battle, and nearly two thousand had accumulated sicknesses or wounds. Even twenty Jaguar Warriors of the Military Nobility had died.

In just over three months, three thousand elite warriors had been killed or wounded. Xolotl was somewhat startled by this number, and for the first time witnessed the power of mountain forest guerrilla warfare and rainy-season epidemics. After all, even if fifty thousand Otomi warriors were drawn out to fight fifty thousand Mexica Legion soldiers in open battle, they might not have inflicted such losses upon the army.

This showed that logistics and the environment could sometimes harm an army far more than a large-scale campaign.

The commanders present did not care much about the Militia, so there were no precise figures for Militia casualties. Xolotl only knew that the Militia in the main camp and rear areas had likely lost three or four thousand men as well, mostly among the units maintaining transport through the mountain forests. Half had died in the harsh forests of the rainy season, while the other half had been killed or wounded by Otomi patrols in guerrilla attacks.

King Tizoc's brow furrowed even more deeply, forming a clear vertical crease between his brows, like a Jaguar trapped halfway up a mountain.

"Totek, what are the Otomi casualties?"

After pondering for a moment, the king looked toward the supreme commander of the great army. Totek hesitated unusually for a moment, then still stepped forward and answered truthfully in a ringing voice.

"We found the bodies of more than two thousand five hundred Otomi Militia. As for warrior corpses, there were fewer than a hundred."

At such a number, the great tent immediately erupted in an uproar. The Otomi Militia had actually achieved a casualty ratio of two-to-one, even three-to-one, against the Mexica Warriors in the mountain forests. It was a number utterly impossible to accept!

"It seems the Otomi People have finally found a way to deal with Mexica Warriors. How should the great army respond to these cunning enemies in the mountain forests?"

Xolotl lowered his head and eyes, deep in thought, yet said not a word.

"May the Main God bless us! We shall surely achieve victory and take Otopan Mountain City!"

King Tizoc prayed aloud, struggling to calm himself and quiet the generals in the tent. Then, with a stern expression, he looked at Avet and demanded sharply.

"Avet, where did these Otomi People come from? How many more are there?"

"Honored King, the hostile Militia came from the two states of Guamare in the west and Pamus in the north. Besides these two places, a small number of Otomi warriors came from city-states farther west or north."

Avet's expression was grave as he replied with equal solemnity.

"The enemy warriors who came as reinforcements are estimated at one or two thousand, while the Militia cannot be counted. The villages in those two regions can still mobilize tens of thousands of able-bodied men."

At the mention of tens of thousands, the generals stirred into clamor again. Everyone shouted that they would show the Otomi People what they were made of. Xolotl listened intently for a while and found that no one had yet mentioned withdrawing. The Otomi mountain people's weakness in direct battle had given everyone the impression that they were soft and easy to bully, the illusion that victory was already in sight.

This time, even King Tizoc found it difficult to calm the uproar in the great tent, and he had no mind to do so. His expression was severe as he summoned the supreme commander Totek forward, and the two spoke in low voices for a few moments. Then Xolotl saw Totek nod heavily, his hard face cold and his eyes gleaming with frost. Next, the king gave another order. The hard-faced supreme commander dropped to one knee and struck his chest heavily with his left arm, making a solemn pledge.

Only after a long while did the great tent fall silent. King Tizoc nodded, and Supreme Commander Totek strode to the center of the tent. He stood behind a chest-high stone platform and announced the king's decision to the generals.

"Let the Main God bear witness! The king has decided to divide two detached forces to punish the city-states of Guamare and Pamus! One force will be directly under the royal house, and the other entrusted to the city-state coalition. Each detached force will field eight thousand warriors, including at least one thousand Jaguar Warriors or Eagle Legion warriors, all dressed in the gear of ordinary warriors."

"Each force will also have two thousand directly controlled Village Militia attached, to carry provisions and transport spoils. Food shall take priority among the spoils."

Totek's gaze settled on the faces of the city-state legion commanders. He stared at them fiercely until every commander nodded in agreement, then gave another order.

"This expedition has three objectives! First, march directly beneath Guamare and Pamus, demand that the city-states submit and pay tribute, sever their Alliance with the Otopan people, and withdraw the harassing Militia. Their withdrawal shall be the priority. We can forgo tribute."

"Second, if the city-states of Guamare and Pamus refuse to withdraw their reinforcements and break the alliance, the detached forces shall show weakness before the city-states and lure them out to fight."

"Third, if the Otomi People still huddle in their deep burrows like Grass Rats—"

Supreme Commander Totek paused and swept his gaze over the generals once more. Then he removed the more than twenty-pound Obsidian longsword from his back, the Macuahuitl. Raising it high with both hands, muscles swelling, he swung it down with all his strength.

Boom!

Xolotl's whole body shook at the tremendous crash. The stone platform before Totek exploded apart, dust flying as it was smashed through by a single blow!

At this sight, the generals were filled with dread. As they looked at Totek, their eyes immediately held fear and obedience.

Dust rose, blurring the supreme commander's figure. Xolotl could not see his reddened eyes. He only heard a cold voice, each word spat out like a glacier from God Mountain.

"Then let our warriors destroy every Otomi village and burn everything! Take no Captives in this battle. Men, women, old, young—leave not one alive!"

Hearing the supreme commander's proclamation, everyone in the tent looked at one another in shock and remained speechless for a moment. Then the generals thundered their assent, and killing intent surged forth.

At the rear of the ranks, Xolotl was shaken to the core, as if he saw an endless wash of blood rushing toward his face.

No Captives, not one survivor?!

Ever since coming to this world, Xolotl had discovered that although there were bloody rituals of human sacrifice, the Aztec Alliance's armies never actually engaged in meaningless slaughter. Mexica Warriors only captured sacrificial offerings they could take away, then released the old, weak, sick, disabled, and harmless youths, allowing villages to continue breeding and enduring.

It was like a Jaguar hunting, taking only enough food to survive. Unlike a cat, which killed meaninglessly for amusement, that would be a waste of sacrificial offerings.

The promotion system among Alliance Warriors proved the same point. A warrior's advancement counted only the number of enemy warriors captured alive and opposed mere killing.

From a theological perspective, sacrificial offerings belonged to the gods. Only lives offered in ritual could satisfy the gods' demands. The world needed an unending stream of offerings as fuel to keep The Sun moving.

Thus, Mexica Warriors needed villages that would endure, needed a ceaseless stream of sacrificial offerings. It was a realistic law of the jungle: offerings were food for survival. They normally would not be like the armies of the Ming, slaughtering villages for wealth and leaving no survivors to avoid the pressure of civil officials.

On the other hand, sacrificial offerings also had different ranks. Offerings of God-descendants pleased the gods most, noble bloodlines came next, ordinary warriors were acceptable, and lowly Militia were merely dispensable extras.

That was also why Xilotepec's Suiqiu City would rather surrender all its wealth than open its gates: sacrificing three hundred noble God-descendants far outweighed three thousand commoners.

Until now, the wars Xolotl had experienced had all been low-intensity tribute wars and captive-taking wars, unlike the brutal wars of conquest between different cultures during the rise of Yuan-Qing. By now, he could face slaughter on the battlefield, yet he was still not prepared to face true brutality.

Yet at this very moment, because of the threat to their supply route, the Alliance's great army faced a crisis of survival. The Mexica Warriors were like hornets whose nest had been stabbed, scattering in every direction with murderous fury. This time, they would cast aside the principle of capturing offerings and meet the rat's attacks with the absolute cruelty of a cat.

The generals then scattered from the tent, gathering elite warriors, shouldering War Clubs gleaming with cold light, and bringing enough Obsidian blades to expend, enough to kill with.

Xolotl kept his head lowered, dazed. Avet pulled him onward, and his steps were unsteady. In his haze, he saw his father striding toward him.

Then the strong Xoloc stretched out his arms and tightly embraced Xolotl. Lowering his head to his son's ear, he spoke softly.

"Xolotl, I know your heart has always been soft, but a soft heart is meaningless. My son, you must have a warrior's strength!"

"Life is no more than flowers blooming. All things will die in silence, and you must always see bloodshed. Commoners' blood, warriors' blood, nobles' blood, Priests' blood, even my blood, will all flow upon the Earth Mother—and your own as well!"

"Remember! A warrior is one who calmly takes death as the road home."

After saying this, Xoloc lowered his head and kissed his son's forehead. Then he gave him another fierce embrace before turning away. Two steps off, Olorosh the Jaguar gave Xolotl a worried look, then turned and left as well.

At last, only Avet remained. Turning sideways, he looked at his student Xolotl and smiled faintly. Then he continued half-dragging the youth forward in great strides.