Cactus

The end of October was always bleak and drifting. It was the wind over the wasteland, carrying a chill, and also the leaves in that long wind, scattering toward every place.

The next few days passed without incident. More than fifteen thousand Southern Allied Forces marched in a vast procession and set up camp outside the mouth of the Pamus valley. After that, the Guamare Legion attacked the valley mouth again and again, wearing down the rolling logs, timber, and stones, and damaging the camp's palisades. The Imperial Guard Legion, meanwhile, guarded Black Wolf's banner and established the Mexica main camp on hills where the trees were sparse and not easy to burn.

At this moment, the king was seated calmly in the main camp. As he sorted through the rolls of the various states in his hands, he considered the next step in his military plans. They were called rolls, but in truth they were Otomi noble and clan genealogies, drawn with long banners, feathers, and family crests.

Bertad stood attending in silence, his expression composed. His gaze sometimes fell on the rolls, where there were many peculiar marks and symbols, chiefly red "X"s and "O"s.

Xolotl opened yesterday's battle report and calmly marked an "X" beside the nobles who had died in battle, then marked an "O" beside the warriors who had performed outstandingly. By his hand was another atlas, recording the land and household numbers of each noble house and clan. These figures were not accurate for now, only vague estimates from complicated sources.

Now, the three northern states had already established a new Main God archdiocese and reported it to the Lake Capital, with the old priest Ort serving as the chief high priest of the three states. The church of the Primal God was undergoing