War and Peace

The dry season was parched, yet the sunlight was mild. Lush green forests lay across rolling mountains. The villages of the Otomi People were always built in valleys between the hills, gathering flowing spring water to nourish the barren bean fields. Outside the villages, a shallow ring of palisades was usually erected against coyote attacks. Inside, small pens were fenced off to raise Turkeys and native dogs.

Yet such crude defenses meant nothing to the Alliance's warriors. The mountain folk, bound to their villages, were like sparrows with their feet tied, broken beneath the Mountain Cat's savage pounce, left with nothing but helpless cries of grief.

Before long, villages and farmlands became flames. Women and children were driven away under guard, while black smoke rose into the sky and blotted out The Sun. This was cruel war, filled with blood, fire, and death.

Xolotl followed a two-hundred-man warrior detachment, silently watching everything before him. His values were like a chunk of iron, hammered again and again, altered again and again, forged into steel.

He did not know how Avet had persuaded the commander-in-chief. Perhaps with food, perhaps with efficiency, perhaps with friendship, or perhaps with the future. Early the next morning, Totek changed the plan. He divided the warriors into groups of two hundred, ordering them to burn the villages, execute the adult men, spare the women and children, and drive them as much as possible toward Guamare City.

The process of destruction rapidly accelerated. After several more days, every village within two days' journey of Guamare had vanished. Thousands upon thousands of hungry women and children had also piled up in the Alliance camp. The Otomi People's potential for war was steadily being erased.

Avet sent envoys to negotiate with Guamare City. The talks turned into a shouting match, and no agreement was reached on the surface.

But at night, Xolotl saw envoys from the city-state quietly enter the camp. Then sack after sack of grain was lowered from the city walls. After receiving enough food for eight thousand people for two weeks, Totek nodded with satisfaction.

Early the next morning, the army prepared to break camp. Before leaving, Xolotl gave Guamare City one final look. Priests in black-and-white robes stood silently atop the walls as well, watching the Mexica Legion retreat below.

From afar, the young Earth Wolf Priest and the old black-and-white-robed Priest gazed at one another. They could see only faint dots in the distance and could not hear each other's voices; only complicated emotions surged between them.

Xolotl shook his head and turned to leave. Then he saw a young follower warrior digging a small hole in the ground with a wooden shovel. The warrior placed a small cotton bundle into the hole and buried it. Something seemed to be wrapped within the bundle.

At last, the young warrior knelt on the ground, prayed to The Sun, and recited the divine name of "Huitzilopochtli."

Somewhat surprised, Xolotl looked at the young warrior and asked.

"May the Main God bless us! My warrior, what ritual is this?"

The young follower's face filled with anticipation as he answered respectfully.

"May the Main God bless us! Honored Earth Wolf Priest, this is not a formal ritual, only a prayer. Last year, just before I joined the war, I had a son. The bundle contains his umbilical cord, which I have carried with me ever since."

"This should be the farthest battlefield I can ever reach. According to the custom of warriors, I buried my son's umbilical cord here and prayed for the God of War's protection. When he grows up, he will be able to receive blessings from this distant land and become a powerful Mexica Warrior. He will follow the Mexica Legion and set foot on this land again, completely conquering the Otomi People!"

"A custom of Alliance warriors."

Xolotl murmured to himself, then nodded and smiled at the warrior.

"Praise the Main God! The great Guardian Deity will bless you and your son! We will return!"

The legion set out at once. It burned down the camp outside Guamare City, released the useless Captives, and headed toward Otopan City.

On its return journey, the Mexica Legion became a squid. Warrior detachments continuously stretched outward like tentacles, while warriors continuously returned. Along the way were burning flames, fields reduced to ash, and scattered tribal women and children cast adrift.

"Within twenty years, the Guamare city-state will no longer pose a threat!"

As Avet walked, he looked at the black smoke rising along the way and could not help sighing.

"The villages have been destroyed, the adult men have all died, and the fields will also turn barren. These city-states will not be able to gather enough grain for an expedition, nor enough manpower for logistics. Even if they retain warriors, they can only wither away behind their city walls."

"Avet, do not forget that there are other Otomi city-states farther west."

"They are too far away. Even if they send warriors, their food supplies must come from Guamare."

Avet smiled, somewhat unconcerned.

"Not to mention that after witnessing Guamare's misery, the small city-states of Tekequex may not dare to continue participating in the war."

Hearing this, Xolotl nodded silently. This too was a form of deterrence—the deterrence of Jaguar-like slaughter. Then his thoughts turned, and he asked curiously.

"How are things progressing on the King's side?"

"May the Main God bear witness! It is still the same."

Avet shook his head, his expression becoming grave as well.

"The people of Otopan are determined to hold out. They are hiding in Mountain City and refuse to come out even if beaten to death. The King grew somewhat impatient and tried attacking once. They were shot at all the way from the foot of the mountain. Before the ladders even reached the city walls, stones came crashing down in an unbroken stream. Later, they barely managed to climb up once, but the ladders were quickly pushed over, and the vanguard warriors were wiped out. I estimate that more than four hundred warriors and over five hundred Militia died in total, with even more wounded."

Hearing this, Xolotl shook his head as well.

"A meaningless attack, and another battalion has been lost. A Mountain City like this cannot be taken by force. The King has lost his head this time."

"Haaha."

Avet chuckled softly, his smile concealing an unreadable meaning.

"With Commander-in-Chief Totek absent, the King cannot really wage war on his own! Kasal is greedy for merit and does not care about the lives of warriors. In a siege, he is not a qualified commander."

"Indeed."

Xolotl thought of the King's theologian-like nature and his grandfather's song offering, then silently put a cross beside the King's name.

"At the root of it all, this is a problem with the supply route. The efficiency of transporting grain through the mountain forests is simply too low!"

"I remember that west of the capital city, there is also the Lerma River. The Lerma River flows westward along the plateau, passing through Tepanicapan of the Mexica city-states, then through the borderlands of the Otomi People and the Tarasco, reaching the southern border of the Otopan city-state, and even the mountain forests south of the Guamare city-state."

"At its closest point, this river is less than a week's mountain journey from Otopan City. If we can make use of this river, then the Otomi People will have no way to threaten our supply route!"

Hearing Xolotl's analysis, Avet turned to face south. To the south lay vast mountain forests and rivers, and beyond the Great River of Lerma were the Tarasco.

"Not bad! This route is indeed the shortest."

Avet pondered for a moment and expressed his agreement.

"But the Lerma River lies right under the Tarasco's noses. Their legion can arrive at any time."

"We cannot place a crucial point of our food supply here. Otherwise, once the Tarasco declare war, the army's supplies will be cut off!"

Hearing this, Xolotl considered the possibility of breaking the deadlock and made another suggestion.

"May the Main God bless us! What if we maintain two supply lines at once?"

"That is precisely the current problem. We cannot read the Tarasco's intentions. We do not want to provoke them and fight on two fronts."

Avet raised a finger and lightly tapped his forehead.

"Alliance scouts have discovered that the Tarasco are gathering legions along the northern border of the Otomi People. They are most likely preparing to invade the weakened Otomi People from the north, but we must remain cautious."

"Actually, compared with the Tarasco's movements, I am more worried about the Alliance's mortal enemy, the Tlaxcalan. This war has gone on for a very long time. So long that every nearby power has already mobilized, ready for war at any moment!"

At this, Xolotl lowered his eyes. He was worried too, but such worry could not change the larger situation. After all, he did not yet hold the power to determine it.

"May the Main God bear witness! Perhaps withdrawing the army is the best choice."

More than half a month of return travel quickly passed. Accompanied by black smoke along the route, the Mexica Legion ruthlessly destroyed the foundations of the Otomi People while plundering grain along the way.

When he saw the sturdy Mountain City standing in the distance once more, Xolotl let out a long breath. During this expedition, he had marched hundreds upon thousands of miles and witnessed tens of thousands of deaths. All of it had exhausted him in body and mind. Soon, the legion returned to the besieging camp, and Commander-in-Chief Totek ordered it disbanded. Dragging his weary body along, Xolotl finally returned to the familiar small house with Bertad's support.

"Forest after forest, Wasteland after Wasteland, city-state after city-state, village after village of death... This was warfare in an age of savagery. Peace was so terribly far away..."

The moment he entered, Xolotl finally relaxed. He raised his head, flung off his feathered crown, and gave a long yawn. Then he took out a wooden board and began writing and drawing on it. Soon, his pen slipped from his hand, and the youth fell backward onto the deerskin rug, immediately sinking into deep sleep.

Bertad gently carried Xolotl to the bed. Looking at the youth's sleeping face, he smiled faintly and covered him with a thin cotton quilt.

Then he picked up the wooden board from the table. On the left was a black Celestial Dog; on the right, a three-colored Feathered Serpent. Beneath them was a line of writing.

"War. And. Peace."

Bertad recognized, character by character, the Alliance's traditional Pictographic Script and the corresponding Chinese Characters. After a moment, he could not help letting out a sigh.

"The Priest truly loves learning... Could it be Him...?"