Waiting

The setting sun dyed the sky a hazy red, like the eyes of a deity gazing upon the earth, admiring the magnificent slaughter of mortals, savoring the sacrifice and offering of life. Then He smiled, stirring crimson ripples across the Long River, sweeping away every cold offering. At last, He closed His eyes in satisfaction, and the world vanished into darkness.

The fierce battle finally came to a halt. Dots of campfires rose along both banks of the Great River. The Militia had already finished clearing the battlefield. They buried the fallen warriors, gathered the remaining weapons and armor, and herded the Captives together.

This battle to cross the river had lasted an entire afternoon, and the Tarasco had suffered immense casualties.

Blocked by the Great River, the Spear Militia and the foreign mercenary corps had been utterly annihilated. Very few survivors managed to swim across the Long River and escape back to the southern bank. The two elite Militia forces had lost ten thousand men, while the final wave of landing warriors had suffered nearly a thousand casualties. At this moment, on the southern bank, the Priests once more ascended the Divine Altar and lit ghostly blue flames to guide the dead toward the infinitely beautiful underworld.

The Mexica People had suffered no small losses as well. Three hundred warriors had fallen in the clash with the Spear Militia, and nearly four hundred more in the fighting against the mercenary corps—for a total of seven hundred warriors dead, along with eighteen hundred Militia. Most of the casualties had come during the brutal deadlock and entanglement, especially in the vicious struggle against the Dog-kin. These light infantrymen, who feared death not at all, made Xolotl deeply wary.

The Aztec Alliance was accustomed to conquest and possessed a well-developed system of treatment. At this time, the wounded were being tended to. Supplies of Yucca juice and Ink Leaf for staunching blood and disinfecting wounds were limited, and could only be reserved for the seriously injured. Xolotl and his followers boiled water and cloth strips, then gave the lightly wounded simple disinfecting treatment and bandages.

In this battle, the Longbow Warriors had played a decisive role. In the cavalry-less Americas, the tactical value of archers was irreplaceable. The Longbow Warriors' close-range volleys had completely shaken the formation of the dense Spear Phalanx, allowing the warriors to charge into the pike formation and fight at close quarters.

At the same time, the Longbows' firepower was strong enough, their damage beyond everyone's expectations. Longbow shots from medium range alone could threaten targets in Leather Armor. For the first time, the warriors' lives had seemed so fragile. The landing warriors on the beachhead fell beneath the Longbows like cherry blossoms, and the commander across the river immediately lost the will to fight. After roughly estimating the warriors' likely casualties, the Tarasco simply withdrew to the southern bank.

After nightfall came another grand funeral. Alone deep in enemy territory, the camp's food was always limited. There were many Captives, but the young Priest deliberately kept only several dozen Spear Militia. As for the rest—there were campfires, ritual dances, prayers, sacrifices, and blessings.

When the ritual ended, dawn lit the horizon. After the warriors cried out to bid farewell to the Guardian Deity, they reverently added the names "Avet" and "Xolotl." They blessed the victorious commander and the Priest protected by the gods, offering their heartfelt admiration and loyalty.

A fierce battle, a sacrifice, the hearts of men, a fragment of the future.

The Mexica People held the southern bank. What followed would be a long standoff. The Tarasco first sent three or four thousand Militia across the river both upstream and downstream, led by more than a hundred warriors, adopting the posture of outflanking and striking from the rear.

Yet Avet remained unmoved. He merely gathered boats to blockade the river upstream and downstream. Enemies without stable supply lines posed no threat at all. The three or four thousand Militia who had crossed soon lost morale, their ranks falling into disorder. The commander sent only five hundred Mexica Warriors to each side, scattering the Militia corps that had crossed, destroying the enemy warriors at their core, and leaving the remaining Militia to fend for themselves.

The Mexica's ten thousand main-force warriors remained gathered together, relying on their sturdy Mountain Camp as they waited for the Tarasco army. Yet the Tarasco seemed to have suddenly lost their desire to launch a major attack. They only continued building strong fortifications on the southern bank and assembling more boats.

The warriors of both sides faced each other across the river. Priest rituals continued without end, commanders stood opposed from afar, yet a strange calm prevailed.

Over the next half month, Xolotl continued the arduous training of the warriors. A warrior's physique could not be forged in a day, and steadfast will also had to be shaped through sweat and tempering. Bertad's archery improved by leaps and bounds. He had a foundation in javelin throwing and was a warrior with thirty years of training behind him. Now he was only missing one unfound poplar tree from being able to shoot through a willow leaf at a hundred paces.

The youth also began practicing archery. In this age of military transformation, even if Lü Bu or Zhao Yun were reborn, they would still be no match for Matchlock Muskets and cannons. Bows, at least, were still safe and powerful. In his remaining time, he kept watch over Cuauht's Longbow production. The old carpenter and the other Artisans had always been kept at Avet's side, nominally as engineers for the construction of towns and camps. Over this half month, the Longbow Guard had gained another twenty Longbows.

Then, in the afternoon, the organization of the written language made another breakthrough. Xolotl discovered that the followers studying Chinese Characters would proactively make pictorial marks familiar from their own lives, helping them understand the words and annotate their pronunciations.

Avet eagerly joined the second stage of developing the script: relying on the complete system of Chinese Characters, incorporating the Mexica People's nascent primitive pictographs, and organizing simple symbols to aid pronunciation and meaning, so as to assist ordinary people in learning, understanding, remembering, and pronouncing words. Thus, Priests and the great noble class would possess enough learning to master the complete Chinese writing system. Ordinary warriors and commoners, meanwhile, needed only master everyday writing and their traditional language.

Xolotl watched for a while and found it strangely familiar. Wasn't this Japanese Hiragana and Katakana? They had likewise learned the writing of the Celestial Empire in a tribal age, likewise used it to annotate and understand their native tongue, and in the end would likewise set out upon a newborn path of blending Huaxia culture and developing their own civilization.

At misty, rainy dusk, sunlight hid behind the clouds. The youth would stand upon a high hill by the river, watching the Long River surge westward into the ocean of his memories; watching the Water Fleets of both sides weave across the river, drilling and fighting like the Māori People, then separating again, fishing fallen Militia from the water and returning to camp for their meals.

This sudden peace left Xolotl somewhat puzzled.

He went to find Avet. His teacher was recording food consumption in Chinese Characters and Mexica Simplified Script. The camp currently maintained provisions sufficient for more than a month. A new fleet was gathering in the capital.

"Avet, what exactly are the Tarasco across the river doing? Why did they attack only once? They clearly still have seventy thousand men." The youth asked in confusion.

"Because they cannot find an easy chance for victory. Or rather, the price of winning a battle is too great." Avet smiled faintly, full of confidence.

"But during the last river crossing, they did have a chance to win." The youth thought for a moment.

"At the time, their first wave of spearmen and second wave of mercenaries had already tied down eight thousand of our warriors. Once the third wave of five thousand warriors crossed the river, they would become locked in close fighting with our remaining warriors. Then the fourth wave of five thousand warriors could attack the four Mexica warrior camps that had just eliminated the spearmen. The fifth wave of warriors could seize the upper hand, and the sixth would absolutely secure victory!"

"But beneath Longbows, javelins, and War Clubs, how many warriors would they have to lose?" The commander countered with a smile. "Besides, I would never allow the fourth wave of warriors to be transported over smoothly. The Water Fleet is already prepared to fully engage the enemy and cut off transport for at least three quarters of an hour. By the time we finish off the spearmen, hold down the Dog-kin, and then encircle the five thousand Tarasco warriors, Zuangua's throne will no longer sit steady."

"That's true. To defeat us, they would have to lose at least five thousand warriors." The youth nodded. "The navy and army can coordinate with one another and produce an even greater effect. The Water Fleet here is crucial. It can hinder the enemy's troop transport at any time, allowing us to secure local numerical superiority. Then our superior land forces can easily wipe out the enemy."

"What if they abandoned this crossing and went north across the river somewhere else?" the youth asked again.

"Our position is like a wooden thorn driven into the Tarasco's waist. Every place within five days' march lies vaguely under our control, and their supply routes are threatened by both our Water Fleet and land forces. If the Tarasco press north without regard for us, then once their supply line is cut, the Otomi People will have no food to save them."

"An army without supplies has no fighting power to speak of." Avet explained patiently, taking the opportunity to teach Xolotl basic tactical principles.

"So they must pull out this wooden thorn?"

"If they truly wish to go north, then they must swallow our stronghold." Avet nodded.

"If they find an opportunity and secretly transport all thirty thousand warriors across the river, we probably won't be able to defeat them." The youth seriously calculated the likely casualties on both sides. He believed mathematics would not deceive him.

"Haaha. If they truly can transport all their warriors across the river, then we indeed would find it difficult to win in a frontal battle." Avet gave a sly smile. "At that time, we would all retreat into the Mountain Camp and hold it to the death. This camp was built for precisely that purpose."

"If thirty thousand warriors surround us, the food in the camp can only last one month." The youth felt inexplicably worried.

"If all thirty thousand Tarasco warriors really cross the river and surround the camp stronghold, then that would be even better!" Avet burst into laughter. "Their troops would be stalled beneath our fortifications, with the Great River behind them and the enemy fleet obstructing their transport."

"At that point, why would Totek continue besieging Otopan City? He could lead the army south immediately, strike from within and without, have the fleet block the river, and once those thirty thousand Tarasco warriors were destroyed, the Tarasco state would be finished!" The commander laughed happily, eagerly anticipating that future.

The youth nodded in understanding. "So the Tarasco have no certainty of defeating us. Then why did they send out their army?"

"In war, who can ever be certain of defeating an opponent?" Avet stopped smiling and grew more serious. "It is only a matter of terrain and circumstance restraining one another, seizing the advantage of the situation, and then waiting for the right moment."

"What is the situation?" the youth asked, half understanding and half confused.

"The situation. This Lerma River, this Mountain Camp—this is the situation! Relying on this river, the enemy army cannot swarm forward all at once and bring its numerical advantage into play, while its supply transport is further harassed by the Water Fleet. Relying on this mountain camp, we can hold fast, use a small army to oppose a large one, and fully unleash the power of bows."

"The situation of mountains and rivers strengthens our army, allowing it to exert greater power! It restrains the enemy army, allowing it to exert less power!"

Avet concluded confidently, "Failing to seize this strategic ground in advance was Zuangua's greatest mistake."

"Then what are the Tarasco still doing on the southern bank?" After thinking for a moment, the youth had a flash of insight. "Gathering so many troops and consuming so much grain and fodder, they must have some purpose."

At this, the commander's pupils narrowed slightly, and he recovered from the pride of recent victories.

He clasped his hands behind his back and paced as he thought. "The Tarasco remaining here now can only achieve one effect: keeping this army of ours pinned down."

Avet suddenly clapped his hands. "Very likely, that was their original purpose all along. The battle to cross the river must have been Zuangua's spur-of-the-moment idea after seeing me, his old friend!"

"Looking at it this way, although the Tarasco have not seized the advantage of the situation, they are waiting for the right moment. So that's how it is!"

"What moment?" The youth was curious.

"We will know soon enough." Avet's eyes suddenly became profound. "Because Otopan City cannot hold out much longer."

In the blink of an eye, time reached August, and the rainy season entered its most fervent days. Torrential rain hung from the heavens in thick unbroken lines. The swelling river submerged the former crossings, and the great camps on both sides fell completely quiet.

Xolotl quickly grew accustomed to his orderly life: training, learning, teaching, research, contemplation. Every day of his was full and brimming with strength. He was becoming someone those around him could rely on. Confidence and resolve filled his face, as though destiny and fighting spirit burned within his heart.

That evening, when he once again stood atop the high hill watching the boats in the distance, a small Canoe suddenly glided lightly to a new crossing. A young man dressed simply, with gentle features, stepped down from it.

Xolotl rubbed his eyes, almost thinking he had seen wrong.

"Acap! Why are you here?" The youth strode forward, hugged the companion he had grown up with, and asked joyfully.

"Wow, we haven't seen each other in a year, and Xolotl, you've completely changed. Now you truly have the bearing of a regiment commander." Acap smiled gently, with a warmth like polished jade.

"I came this time because of the previous agreement between the High Priest and the King's younger brother." Acap said solemnly. "And I have brought extremely important news!"