The black-feathered warblers soared above the sea, their golden shoulder feathers glinting brilliantly. These small songbirds were swift and beautiful, so fond of lively places. They blinked their tiny eyes, landing on a nearby mudflat, curiously observing the unfamiliar longships.
Before long, the longship docked by the sea. Familiar two-footed beasts jumped ashore, brandishing unusually long sharp claws, uttering strange rhythmic chants.
"Blessed by the Chief Divine! We have landed once more!"
At this sight, the timid warblers collectively drew back their brilliant neck feathers. Then, they hurriedly turned around, chirping to remind each other, their wings swiftly carrying them into the jungle, vanishing in an instant.
"Ah! Praise the Chief Divine! These are the warblers of our holand, symbols of auspicious ons! I never thought I’d see them here!..."
Seeing the golden feathered warblers fly away, Mokai, the Putun warrior, was montarily stunned, then his face broke into a long-lost smile.
After a prolonged sailing voyage, over a hundred Putun warriors who boarded had lost four to five dozen in battles and disease. Mokai, as the leader of the Putun warriors, felt a heavy heart. Though known for endurance and accustod to death, he could not suppress his weariness of this seemingly endless mariti exploration.
anwhile, the Prepecha warriors and sailors aboard were on the voyage for even longer, nearly a year. They also felt deeply fatigued by this lengthy exploration. Despite the inspiration of faith in the Chief Divine, the comforting words from the accompanying Priest, and the abundant food and water provided by the villages along the way, including so extra solace... the morale of the entire exploration fleet inevitably continued to decline.
It was simply because the sailors had been tossed about for too long, and traveled for too long. They longed for stability, even just resting sowhere on the island, unmoving, was a hundred tis more comfortable than continuous wandering at sea. Mariti voyages of this era, even along the coast, were a rigorous and exhausting ordeal.
Until a few days ago, the trustworthy captain of the longship, Chiwaco, solemnly announced that the fleet was turning west, and the destination was just ahead! It was only then that everyone’s morale slightly improved. And Mokai found so interest, bearing his sharp javelin, watching the countless flying birds in the sky.
"Awoo! The tribe elders have said, encountering warblers is a good on for hunters!"
With Mokai’s joyful shout, Putun warriors from several ships also began to cheer loudly, followed by the Silver Raven warriors under the leadership of the Osprey, and then the rowers of various tribes.
In the Campeche region of Central Maya, one could also see the agile, fluttering warblers. These beautiful and colorful birds were almost ubiquitous along the Caribbean Sea coast and were beloved by various coastal tribes. However, among the entire fleet, only the Prepecha warriors exchanged puzzled looks, not recognizing these pretty little birds that were not present in the highlands.
"Praise the Chief Divine! Encountering warblers is a good on for the fleet!"
Priest Tomate was the first to react. He listened to Tikalo’s translation, then beca excited, raising the scriptures high while calling out to everyone.
"This is the Chief Divine’s will, also the Chief Divine’s blessing! He tells us that the destination of our voyage is just ahead! Praise the Chief Divine! Divine blessings upon us!"
Soon, the old militia, Chiwaco, along with the ship’s backbone, chid in. The shouts turned into cheers, gradually spreading far, echoing throughout the entire exploration fleet.
"Praise the Chief Divine! Divine blessings upon us!"
The deafening cheers continued incessantly, soon attracting the attention of the coastal Taino people. Dozens of Taino militia cautiously approached, ard with long spears, and exchanged a few words with the fleet’s translator, Kuba.
Subsequently, the faces of these simple Taino villagers also showed joyous expressions. They raised their wooden spears, shouting the nas of the local tribes.
"Yaya, Yaya! Piragua, Piragua’! Guarico Ke, Guarico Ke’!... The great spirit of divinity welcos the guests of the longships to our land! Beautiful warblers greet our distant kin; this is the ’Cassava Tribe of Red Soil’, the Red Soil Clan!"
The Red Soil Clan was located on the coastal plains, relying on a large river flowing from the interiors, and a lagoon rich in aquatic life outside the bay. Observing such terrain, Chiwaco imdiately comprehended that it was bound to be a large tribe! On Cuba Snake Island, the prerequisites for large tribes included plains providing food, rivers offering freshwater, and coastal or interior lagoons supplying fish. Each large tribe’s population was approximately between two to three thousand people. The population among tribes was neither particularly large nor small, appearing quite balanced, likely the natural carrying capacity limit.
Traveling along Cuba Snake Island, the fleet had covered three thousand miles, circling half the island, passing through a dozen large tribes without encountering any particularly massive Tribal Alliances. This implied that there had been no large-scale battles or brutal annexation wars among the major tribes.
For thousands of years, the peaceful and kind Taino islanders had persisted in maintaining the most simplistic societal structures and the most harmonious tribal relations, without progressing further toward higher organizational formations...
And this also hinted that, on the three thousand miles of Cuba Snake Island explored by the fleet, no Tribal Alliances nor even the embryonic form of a Kingdom had erged. Within the Taino villages, there were no warriors dedicated to combat nor any higher-status, powerful Divine Descendant Nobility arising from the warrior clans. Villagers shared more equal statuses, laboring and celebrating together, raising children together.
The tribe lacked herbal dicine, liked inhaling Divine Smoke, and due to insufficient processing techniques, consud slightly toxic cassava over the long term. Therefore, villagers often had very short lifespans, with elders in the tribe typically living only three or four decades. This high mortality rate population renewal steadily maintained the island’s population balance, even retaining ancient matriarchal clan characteristics.
Everything remained in the oldest and purest state, seemingly frozen in ti, just as it had been thousands of years ago.
"Hmm... the Red Soil Clan has also ford patrol militias with wooden spears!"
The old militia, Chiwaco, scanned the welcoming Taino militia, imdiately noticing sothing different. Speculation glead in his eyes as he looked towards Priest Tomate, who affird with a nod.
"The fish ponds outside the village are vacant; initially, villagers approached with caution, and the village’s canoes are collectively stationed with designated guards... the Red Soil Clan must have also suffered the harassnt of the Ziguayu!"
"Then let’s adapt to the situation and observe the local chieftain’s attitude!"
"Alright!"
The local chieftain did not display any particular stance. They quickly confird that the visiting longships were unrelated to the Ziguayu marauders but related to forr Mayapan trade caravans.
"Praise the Moon Mother Goddess! Praise the Cassava God! Praise the Storm Goddess! Praise the Ancestor God of Death!... You are friends, not enemies!"
Since friends had co to visit, the welcoming banquet naturally arrived as usual. Everyone in the fleet, after an evening of joyful labor, bore faces of bittersweet delight.
The next day, Priest Tomate rose early, eagerly waking everyone. Then, he excitedly announced.
"I conversed all night with several young won of the Red Soil Clan! They told that this place is called ’Red Soil Clan’ because the land is red! And to the south of the tribal village, there are a few red earthen hills!"
"Puap, gather a squad of warriors! Let us go and see if these red soil hills contain the minerals the Kingdom needs!"
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