"The Naval Forces will not return for another two weeks, bringing with them reinforcents and supplies, as well as the latest news from the Capital City. The Southern Army must have already set out, but who knows what their situation is now..."
Xiulote’s gaze remained to the south, over the vast Lerma River, beyond the unknown Lake Region, all the way to the heart of the southern Kingdom.
The golden sunlight poured down from the sky, casting brilliant ripples on Lake Patzcuaro. From the villages around the Lake Region, thousands of canoes arrived in a ceaseless flow, transporting the conscripted supplies and Militia. Then, the massive fleet split into two groups, one heading north and the other south.
The sunlight fell on people’s faces, revealing varied expressions. The Tarasco Samurai, in charge of managent, barked out orders, urging the sailors and Militia to quicken their pace, their faces stern and detached. Upon hearing the commands, the sailors rowed with all their might, their faces unable to conceal their exhaustion. They had been called upon by the Kingdom, busily transporting tens of thousands of soldiers and accompanying supplies for a whole month.
The Militia on the boats clutched their newly issued Copper Spears, their faces filled with the unease of the unknowns of war, and with worries about the future of their villages. The Kingdom had issued strict conscription orders, and the Lake Region near the Capital City had been urgently mobilized. They had no choice but to leave behind their newly sown fields, following the fearso Samurai to board boats bound for unknown destinations.
"Where are we going to fight? When can we go ho?" Weizti, with his head wrapped in a turban, asked in a low voice when the overseeing Samurai wasn’t looking.
On the rocking small boat, the young Militia faced each other, showing puzzled expressions. Chiwaco, a Militia in his forties, pulled out a yellowed cloth bag, deeply inhaled the fragrance of the herbs, and a satisfied smile appeared on his face. Then, his expression cald, and he replied in an equally deep voice,
"We’re heading north, to fight against a detachnt of the xica. There aren’t many enemies there, and their stone fortresses are very hard, better than going south. As for returning, at the earliest, it’ll be a year!"
"A year?!" Turban-wrapped Weizti exclaid in shock, drawing the fierce gaze of the overseeing Samurai. All the Militia simultaneously bowed their heads and shut their mouths, like obedient turkeys. After a while, when the Samurai’s gaze shifted, Weizti again spoke in a low voice,
"In a little over a month, it will be ti to harvest the pumpkins, then the corn and beans. Relying solely on the won and children at ho is not enough. Are we really going to be gone for a year?"
Old Militia Chiwaco scoffed, took another sniff of the herbs, and slowly said,
"You’re still thinking about the fields and harvest at ho? Survive first! Militia like us are just fuel for the fire on the battlefield. The Samurai don’t care about the lives of the Militia; they’ll throw us where it’s easiest to die. If you’re captured by the cruel xica Jaguar, just wait to have your chest cut open and be sacrificed to the spirits!"
Hearing the na xica Jaguar, the young Militia shuddered. Those terrifying figures wearing Beast Helts and yellow Leather Armor had been spoken of in the Kingdom for a long ti, equated to the Evil Demons in the legends from the western volcanoes.
After a while, Weizti asked, trembling,
"We have the protection of the Chief Divine of the Sun, the Earth Mother Goddess, and the Moon Goddess! We should be able to win this battle, right?"
The many young militian all looked toward Chiwaco, the only old militiaman in the village who had survived the previous war.
Chiwaco sighed and carefully put away the package of herbs in his hand. This was his treasure, which kept him calm on the battlefield and helped him find the most suitable escape routes. The old militiaman stood up, looked at the vast fleet to the north and south, then at the clearing sky, and heaved another deep sigh.
"Alas! The pumpkins have just been planted, and the elders have mobilized so many militian that they can’t even think about this year’s harvest. Just look at the expressions on these samurais’ faces—they look as if they’re no different from dead n. This battle, I fear, is doubtful!"
The sighs of the militian dissipated into the wind, their voices gradually inaudible. The breeze, however, never ceased; it drifted over the busy Lake Patzcuaro and into the rich and strong Copper Capital, Qinchongcan City. It blew past thousands of craftsn forging weapons, over a thousand swordsn wielding bronze axes, and through hundreds of nobles discussing in low voices, finally arriving at the religious center of the city—the magnificent and awe-inspiring circular pyramid, "House of Wind" Akatla.
The five circular Akatla Pyramids were each several dozen ters high, built mainly of different sizes of granite stones, bonded together with corn mortar, standing upon the earth like Divine Mountains. The arrangent of the five pyramids roughly took the shape of a keyhole; their rear ends were stair-stepped pyramid platforms, connected by stone steps to facilitate the movent of priests back and forth.
These platforms extended and converged to form a simple and solemn large platform. Above and below the large platform were complex stone longhouses, sacred dwellings where the Kingdom Priests lived.
At the heart of each pyramid was a core pile of stones, around which layers were stacked to thicken the exterior. The outermost layer was decorated with spiral, circular, and square stone slabs, each engraved with exquisite murals of deities. At the top of the pyramids, different divine symbols were painted, encircled with vibrant patterns, in homage to the five gods that ruled the world.
The three central Akatla Pyramids were the tallest and most ornate, with the additional height of their earthen bases making them forty to fifty ters high, symbolizing the Thrones of the Gods of the three Chief Divinities. They represented the sun’s supre deity of light, Curicaveri; the compassionate and protective Earth Mother Goddess Velavaperi; and Haratana, the Goddess overseeing life and death.
Above the Akatla were temples for venerating the deities, along with pure gold statues, similar to the Great Temple in the Lake Capital City. But unlike the Great Temple, these temples housed many relics of forr kings and nobility, and even so mummified remains, like burials on the ground, praying for eternal life after death—a notion sowhat similar to that of Ancient Egypt.
At this very mont, in front of the five temples on Akatla, huge bonfires were lit. The burning Sacred Fire, day and night unceasing, could be seen from the ninety-one towns and villages of the Lake Patzcuaro region—signifying the highest level of war mobilization!
Under the magnificent temple’s expanse, hundreds of priests of all ranks bustled before the circular pyramids, setting up awe-inspiring altars. They were preparing to hold a large-scale prayer ceremony, using captured xica sacrifices to seek Divine Revelations from the gods, praying for victory in the war.
Near the sacred "House of Wind" Akatla were the subli Royal Palace buildings, constructed on the hills of the "Palace of Wind" Akatlas. Akatlas, standing several stories high, was surrounded by over a dozen connected stone buildings. Inside these stone buildings were the loyal Royal Warriors, as well as tributes from various City-States. On the outermost side was a small house for spoils of war, storing the heads of fallen enemies and the weapons of these brave foes. In a corner of the house, a few black daggers glinted with cold light.
From afar, the wind’s symbolic Palace, expanded multiple tis, was now as tall as the divine emblematic House of Wind. And on the overhanging viewing platform in front of the Royal Palace, the King of Tarasco, Su’angua, was draped in yellow regal garnts, his head adorned with a heavy Feather Crown, surrounded by gold and bronze decorations, an Envoy of the gods on earth.
The Supre King bowed his head slightly, his eyes flickering with contemplative light. He paid no attention to the priests’ consoling prayers that filled the hearts of the people but looked gravely at the xica longbows in front of him and the matching Copper Arrows scattered on the ground.
These formidable weapons, seized from battlefields in both the north and south, were like ssengers of the moon Goddess, causing the valiant warriors of the Kingdom to die with ease!
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