Mobilization

At noon the next day, the sunlight was warm and dazzling. Xolotl wore a priest's robe and sat atop a miniature pyramid beside the palace compound. He looked up at the magnificent Pyramid of the Moon ahead, while watching the city-state's mobilization unfold.

The Holy City Priesthood's decision had already spread throughout the Holy City and the nearby villages. The decision to send troops was unshakable! And today was the day of the mobilization speech, meant to kindle the morale of the warriors and militia!

Xolotl widened his eyes and looked toward the towering Pyramid of the Moon. His grandfather Xutl stood atop it, clad in a full set of High Priest ceremonial attire weighing dozens of pounds. Golden light glittered from him, illuminating all around!

The Pyramid of the Moon held a special meaning for Xolotl. It was the place where everything had changed.

The youth gazed at the Pyramid of the Moon. The dazzling light left him half dreaming, half awake, submerged in distant memories. They were memories of the "past," though they had already begun to blur.

In those memories, he had been a young man born in the nineties who loved history and geography. He had been fascinated by the ancient civilizations of the Americas, and countless times in Civilization and Europa Universalis, he had played as the Aztec Civilization. At the age of twenty-five, he had finally gotten the chance to travel to Teotihuacan in Mexico, where he had secretly climbed the Pyramid of the Moon at night.

That night, he sat amid the ruins of the temple atop the pyramid. No light shone in any direction, and black night surrounded him like ink.

The Milky Way stretched vast and boundless overhead. By sheer coincidence, the once-in-a-decade Leonid meteor shower came rustling down. On a sudden whim, the young man shouted a wish at the shooting stars.

"I wish to return to the past, lead the ruined Indian Civilization to rise again, defeat the invading European colonists, and turn the Americas into the Americas of the Indians!"

Before his words had faded, darkness fell before his eyes and he collapsed. In his muddled consciousness, he felt himself turn into a beam of white light. Then came endless dizzying movement and rapid shifts of color. When he awoke again, he could no longer see the world. He could only vaguely sense his surroundings. He was still in the ancient city of Teotihuacan, but there was now much more breath of life everywhere.

He wandered through the hazy world, without purpose or direction, drifting only by instinct until he reached a remote thatched hut. There, he felt a tremendous pull.

He passed through the wall and sensed two connected lives. One was a weak, mottled glow, while the other was a cluster of colorless specks. Drawn by that pull, he plunged into the colorless specks. White light flashed in an instant, and his consciousness became a blur.

The next time he woke, it was accompanied by a piercing cry. Had it come from himself? He opened his eyes and saw a low roof and two faces caught between joy and sorrow. Black hair, yellow skin, hunched figures—their enormous shadows fell beneath the moonlight, covering his tiny body.

At last, sorrow replaced joy. He stopped crying, but heard another suppressed sob. One hunched figure abruptly straightened, carried him in its arms, and walked out of the room.

The crying gradually faded away. An infant's brain could not sustain too much thought. He felt himself being carried to the edge of a pond, and then the water slowly rose over him. He had only just crossed over, and he was already an abandoned infant?

His tiny body coughed violently. He choked, unable to breathe, and seemed to faintly hear fresh crying beside him. His consciousness slowly blurred, and his newborn body lost all sensation. When he awoke again, he had once more become a beam of white light without sight.

This time, he did not dare wander about carelessly. After judging the scale of the buildings, he slowly floated toward the busiest and grandest center. He forcefully resisted the occasional pulls that came from around him. He drifted through the heart of the ancient city, and finally felt a new attraction within the bustling palace compound. Then he continued forward and once again plunged into colorless specks.

When he woke once more, it was, as always, accompanied by his own crying—and an irrepressible laugh. The infant opened his eyes. A young, brawny man held him up in both hands. He wore a feathered crown, stood tall and straight, and was draped in a white cotton robe. His features were resolute; he too had black hair and yellow skin.

The roof was high, painted with colorful figures and scenes. A circle of people knelt around them, grinning broadly without making a sound. A young woman lay on the bed as well, tears overflowing from her smile.

Soon, a richly dressed middle-aged man wearing a stone crown hurried in. He spread the infant's legs, then looked at his little specks with delighted laughter. Next, he loudly spoke words Xolotl could not understand, repeating one word several times. The surrounding crowd cheered and repeated that word too. It sounded vaguely like, "Xolotl!"

From then on, he had a new name: Xolotl.

The middle-aged man from his memories now stood atop the high platform. Time had aged his face. Only the dazzling golden light still shone upon the crowd below. Nobles, warriors, and commoners came from every direction, gathering beneath the pyramid to hear the divine message relayed by the High Priest.

"People protected by the Sun God, the God of War, Huitzilopochtli! The bloodline of Huitzilopochtli, the new Tlatoani, brings the gods' command: take up your weapons, join the king's sacred coronation war, and capture the sacrifice chosen by the gods—the weak Otomi People of the north."

The imposing voice was relayed layer by layer from the Pyramid of the Moon by the priests. It grew ever more grand until it covered the entire square, jolting Xolotl awake from his memories like a divine proclamation.

"Twelve rainy seasons have passed since the last sacred war and great sacrifice! The Sun of the Fifth Age has an agreement with us. He needs thousands upon thousands of hearts to sustain the light of the sky. Otherwise, the sun will go out, and all things will wither. Now, the time for sacrifice has come again!"

"The Earth Mother beneath our feet, Cipactli, also has an agreement with us! She makes corn grow and nurtures all things, while we repay her with blood. Otherwise, the crops will fail completely. The Earth Mother thirsts for blood!"

"The world is balanced, and the God of War sustains its workings. Every one of you knows that the city-state's population is growing ever larger, that more and more infants are being abandoned, and that the food allotted to each of you will grow ever scarcer! The world has lost its balance. The God of War needs the sacrifice of lives to prevent the world's destruction!"

"We have only one choice: capture the lives of our enemies and sacrifice them to our Guardian Deity! This is a divine war to save the world!"

Limited productive power, limited food, a constrained population limit, and an endlessly growing population. This was Mesoamerica's historical cycle. Xolotl thought silently. Those seemingly endless wars and sacrifices actually had inevitable reasons behind them.

The commoners discussed it in panic, heavy with worry beneath the priests' terrifying prophecies. Yet their fear was guided and transformed into a resolve to take up arms. The nobles and warriors remained silent.

"In the name of the Guardian Deity, I swear: in this sacred war, any young warrior who captures one captive alive will be promoted to Level 1 Captor! Capture two more alive, and you will be promoted to Level 2 Huastec Hunter! Capture three more alive, and you will become a Level 3 Elite Fire Warrior! Capture four more alive, and you will become a true Level 4 Senior Warrior, qualified to join the Eagle Warrior Order or the Jaguar Warrior Order and become a formidable Level 1 Military Merit Noble! They will forever receive a fertile plot of land from the city-state, perhaps even a Chinampa upon the lake! The same shall apply to all priests who take part in the war."

At this proclamation, the warriors erupted in clamor, shouting excitedly without meaning. Some even drew their long clubs and struck their shields. Some newly elevated Military Nobility also grew excited at the mention of Chinampas.

"Our enemies are the weak Otomi People! Their ancestors were easily defeated by us and driven from the Valley of Mexico bestowed upon us by the gods. Killing them is as easy as pulling weeds! Yet now, these wolf-dogs still harass our valley, drooling as they eye our fields. Only by sacrificing them utterly to the gods can we defend our most precious land!"

"The Otomi city-states are wealthy. Within them are more Tortillas, Black Bean Paste, cacao fruit, cotton cloth, and all kinds of beautiful flowers, feathers, herbs, silver ornaments, gold ornaments, Obsidian, and gemstones than anyone can count. Their city-states contain no warriors—only sacrifices, slaves, and your future wives and concubines!"

At these words, even the hereditary nobles were finally moved. The great nobles leaned close to one another, discussing the luxury goods they lacked. Similar yet different desires finally blazed in everyone's eyes!

"Warriors of the God of War! For the gods' agreement, for the glory of warriors, for our land, and for the wealth that belongs to you, join the sacred war! The priests will stand with you. In the name of the gods, victory in this war is certain!"

At this moment, everyone below the platform except Xolotl finally sank into meaningless shouts and howls! At last, under deliberate guidance, their frenzied cries became two earthshaking words: "War! War!"

The unified roar rang through the heavens, representing the will of a people and their thirst for slaughter and war. This scene was etched deeply into a young boy's eyes, impossible to forget.

Note: In medieval societies, more than 90% of the population were ruled commoners at the bottom. Infant mortality was as high as half, and the odds of dying before the age of ten were unimaginably higher. If you were born into the lower class, there was a ninety percent chance you would die in obscurity. The cause might be hunger and cold, malnutrition, all kinds of diseases, the outbreak of war, attacks by bandits or wild beasts, religious sacrifice, offending nobles and warriors, or even abuse from those around you. Crossing over was an extremely risky undertaking. If you did not have the right to choose your own reincarnation, please consider it carefully. (A serious smile.)