Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America!-Chapter 586 - 284: Royal Army Heads North, Old Friends Meet at Night

At the start of April, thunderous rumblings hinted at the changing winds. The dry north wind transformed into the moist easterlies, blending the low-hanging water vapor into the clouds above, where the dull gray was ripe with the brewing of spring thunder.

Xiulote stood on the hillock he had visited years ago, looking up. Dark clouds hung low, the sunlight dimmed, and shadows enveloped the land, with distant thunders growling faintly. Not far away, Otapan Mountain City appeared increasingly towering and impregnable, as if touching the skies.

After years of campaigning, the king, driven by the instincts of a commander-in-chief, surveyed the sturdy ancestral mountain stronghold once again. After a while, he shook his head with a profound gaze.

"The terrain is precipitous, and heavy armor is hardly scalable. Whether it’s longbows, powerful crossbows or trebuchets, none can reach the city’s battlements. In the age of cold weapons, this truly is an impregnable fortress. The Otomi have chosen a fine location! To conquer this place, one must either lay a long siege or blast open the walls with heavy artillery..."

At the foot of the hill, the Imperial Guard Legion bustled about. The personal army donned armor and stood alert, Temple Guards and barbarian mercenaries all pitched in. They used local materials, cutting down trees, digging trenches, and stacking bricks and stones to construct a simple camp of earth and stone. Meanwhile, Otomi scouts, in more than a dozen teams, watched the legion from a distance, ever vigilant and never straying.

"Not enemies, nor friends, a neutral vigilance… Establishing true mutual trust with the Otomi people will require time and planning!"

Xiulote surveyed his surroundings from the high ground with a deep look in his eyes. After arriving at the foot of the city, he had sent envoys to the mountain city, requesting to let his army enter for rest. The envoy from Otapan City replied with utmost humility, offering a bounty of fresh vegetables, meat, and even tribute in the form of wealth and women to appease the troops. However, the request for the legion to enter the city was, without a doubt, met with a polite but firm rejection.

In the wary caution of the Otomi, the army halted on the spot, encamping outside the city. With the spring cultivation yet to commence, many villagers had hidden in the mountains, leaving the surrounding hamlets deserted. A large number of samurai were stationed on Otapan City, while scouts kept watch day and night outside the city walls. It seemed that the horrific war from years prior had left a deep impression on the Otomi, one not easily faded.

The sun set and the moon rose, casting its clear light upon the land, and the night grew deep. The patrol of trusted aides clanked in their armor leaves, and the camp of the legion was solemn, with only the central tent illuminated by firelight.

Xiulote sat cross-legged within the large tent. His eyes drooped as if asleep but not quite, calmly awaiting. Bertade stood behind him, clad in armor.

The campfire blazed, casting elongated shadows of two in the tent. As the silent night passed, it was uncertain how much time had elapsed when a gust of wind stirred, and the shadows and flames swayed together. When the fire settled, suddenly there were three shadows.

"Your Highness, someone is here," the voice of the Head Warrior murmured low. Xiulote abruptly opened his eyes, looking towards the opening of the large tent, which had just closed.

By the entrance, a not very tall, gaunt figure had appeared. The newcomer was cloaked in a broad black mantle, gazing at the king with serene, withered eyes before slowly lifting the hood over his head.

"His Highness Xiulote, I greet you. The ancient tree atop the mountain looks towards the sky, welcoming the resting Divine Eagle. Your Highness, praise be to you! It has been years since we last met, and you have indeed become a true king!"

Xiulote remained expressionless, nodding slowly. His gaze swept over the increasingly emaciated figure of Olte Yue, over the scattered white hair, and finally rested on the Priest’s wrinkled face, as old as tree bark.

"Priest Olte, do you know your crime?"

"Your Highness, there are some disputes within the mountain city. This journey is not one to be seen. Coming to visit in the dead of night, I ask for your forgiveness…"

"Olte!"

Xiulote raised the Divine Staff and brought it down with force, the silver end chiming a "ding-dong." Instant silence filled the tent, followed by a chilling voice.

"Otapan is a vassal to the Alliance, and Jiowar has sworn a Blood Oath of fealty to me! I lead the legion here, also heeding your humble plea to march north and convene with the states!"

The king’s demeanor turned daunting. He glared into Olte’s eyes and reprimanded in outrage.

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"The Royal Army, invited here, has tramped through endless forests. Otapan, a vassal city-state, dares to close its gates and refuses entry to the army! Olte, do you realize that the Tarasco Kingdom to the south has been eradicated?!"

At these words, the Priest fell silent, his aged face turning even grayer. After a long moment, he sighed deeply, and for the first time bent his knees, prostrating fully on the ground before the king.

"Your Highness, Otapan City-State has witnessed the downfall of Tarasco Kingdom firsthand. General Jiowar had once led the legion, fighting for you in bloody battles. Envoys from the Lake Capital City have returned. At the recent New Year’s grand ceremony, the sacrifice of the Tarasco king astounded the entire world!"

"The situation has shifted; the might of the Alliance is unstoppable, deeply revered by tribes everywhere. We Otomi have waged war with the Alliance, fully aware of its ferocity. Your Highness, that reverence has taken root in the Otomi’s hearts, and every city-state desires to gravitate towards the Alliance, following the strongest in the Jungle. This is the best opportunity, which is why I invited you here, to convene with the Otomi states!"

Olte raised his head slowly, speaking with calm assurance. His eyes were slightly clouded, yet his gaze remained sharp.

"Otapan City is the ancestral homeland of the mountain, the spiritual destination for all Otomi people. Since its establishment from the wilderness hundreds of years ago, the mountain city has never been breached by foreign enemies! Its steep and towering terrain, impregnable defenses, and the tradition of defending it at all costs, are the greatest guarantees for the continued survival of the Otomi Tribes."

"Your Highness, your legion is invincible! We, the Otomi people, are willing to bow down and sincerely submit to you. But allowing the Mexica legion into the city... it concerns the safety of the mountain city, please allow us to adhere to tradition."

Xiulote watched the old Priest. Humble in his kneeling, his pale hair hung down, but his spine remained unbowed. After a moment, the King spoke lightly.

"Priest Olte, the times are changing, and the storm has come. The old traditions will become an obstruction, and the new weapons will destroy everything. At this moment, even the strong mountain city can no longer protect you for long... To survive or to perish? The Otomi people always have to make a choice!"

Hearing the veiled threat in the King’s words, Olte’s face showed bitterness. He sighed softly and nodded.

"Your Highness, my time is running short, and I am about to go to the Divine Kingdom. The Gods have taken away my worldly gains and losses, and paradoxically, I can now see further. I constantly watch the changes within the Alliance and feel the arrival of the War God. New thunderous weapons, new religious reforms, and the new structure of alliances... The Mexica Alliance, towering above the Tribes, is growing ever stronger! Now, when I close my eyes, I can see the ruler of the Mexica raising the Scepter, restoring the unity and glory of the Teotihuacan Period!"

The old Priest’s eyes became profound. He looked at Xiulote’s face, as if trying to read something from it.

"Your Highness, following the revelation of the Gods, for the future of the Otomi people, I seek the cry of the King’s eagle. There is a Sun burning in the sky, and there is also a Divine Eagle soaring. I see that Divine Eagle flying over the mountain city, heading towards the land in the lake, settling in the newly born Kingdom. The Divine Eagle carries the will of the Sun God. And the ruler of the lake, will transform into the reborn Sun, rising into the highest heavens!... Your Highness, you are the Sun of the Mexica people, the Sun of the Prepetcha people, and the Sun of the Otomi people!"

Though the old Priest’s words were full of metaphors, his attitude was quite clear. Xiulote pondered for a while before ending the probe. His expression eased, and the corners of his mouth carried a slight smile.

"Priest Olte, there are no strangers here. You and I have known each other for a long time, there’s no need to be so implicit. I aspire to rule the world, seeing all of the Highland Tribes as future Citizens, with no distinction of ethnicity. If you seek a future for the Otomi people, I will grant you a future for the Otomi people!"

The King stood up, took a few steps forward, and helped the kneeling old Priest to his feet. Then, he gazed into the other’s eyes, speaking slowly.

"Scouts have reported back to me that the Canine Descendants from the northern Wilderness are moving south in full force, invading deep into Pamus State territory, and even roaming to the borders of Otapan State. The leaders of the three Otomi States have converged in the mountain city, holding a Tribal conference in the ancestral land to discuss important matters. At this time, you are earnestly inviting me to join the conference up north, stating openly that this is a good opportunity for the Otomi Tribes to unite."

"Indeed it is! Your Highness."

The old Priest nodded affirmatively. Xiulote asked sternly, continuing.

"But when I led the army here, I found that the Otomi Tribes along the way were either fleeing in fear or full of suspicion and vigilance. The attitude of Ototpan Mountain City is even more indecisive... Priest Olte, the Canine Descendants from the north, the ancestral mountain city, what is the current situation now?"

Olte contemplated for a moment before replying candidly.

"Your Highness, last year was calamitous, as the Sky God brought down disasters. The northern desert saw the white disaster of the Gods, with an exceptionally cold climate! Countless Canine Descendants froze to death from weakness, innumerable birds and beasts froze dead or dispersed. Springs turned into cold stones of ice, not melting for two months, making this year’s spring plowing hopeless. Without food, people starve to death; without clothing, they freeze to death, but people will not sit and wait for death. They will migrate to places where there is food and clothing and consume everything along the way!"

"The white disaster of the Gods, destroying everything... The super cold wave has arrived?"

Xiulote drew a sharp breath. He was aware of the severity of the cold waves in the North American Continent but had not anticipated that the dreadful cold wave could travel all the way south, bringing the cold to the northern part of the Mexican Plateau.

"Yes, destroying everything! Once the cold wave arrives, it signifies the start of a terrible disaster. No one knows how long the disaster will last, or if it will come again. If large-scale cold waves arrive three times within five years, the northern Tribes will disappear at least by half amidst hunger and cold!"

"To avoid the cold wave, from the East’s Great Lake to the West’s Great Lake, tens of thousands of Canine Descendants are migrating to the warmer south. Along the way they fight viciously, vying for valleys that can resist the cold waves, competing for water sources that can grow crops. They desperately fight over exceedingly limited food and turn enemies, or even themselves, into food!"

Xiulote’s expression was grave as he nodded slowly. The North American Continent’s super cold wave was a destructive disaster, and the early civilizations of the Tribal era had no defence against it. In fact, it was the prelude to the Little Ice Age, the Spörer Minimum, with the world’s climate gradually cooling and North America’s cold waves becoming more frequent and severe.

"Your Highness, the Canine Descendants began migrating south from the end of last year. At first, it was just minor raids by small Tribes which each State could deal with on its own. But with the continuation of the divine disaster and the lack of hope for this year’s spring plowing, the size and number of raiding Tribes heading south have increased!"

"At the beginning of February, tens of thousands of Guajili Canine Descendants appeared on the northern border of Pamus State. They consist of eight large Tribes of five thousand people each, and more than sixty ordinary Tribes of a thousand each, tentatively forming an alliance. These Tribes are all armed, with no weakness amongst them. United, they have over thirty thousand able-bodied warriors, a force that the States cannot resist!"