The rains of July lingered over the boundless fields, as the scorching sun occasionally showered the land with the light of life. The young seedlings were lush, and the fruit trees were thriving, bringing vitality to the earth of the Lake Region. When the pumpkin seedlings took shape, more rains roared down, obscuring the sky. The torrential rain transford into creeks that rged into broader lakes, making Lake Patzcuaro all the more magnificent.
"This is the rainy season of August, which cos in with a drumbeat and devours mountains and rivers."
Xiulote stood on the top floor of the Palace of Wind, gazing at the northern waters. At the peak of the rainy season, the Great Lake’s water level rose significantly, subrging the surrounding area. The endless reflection of water looked vast and bold from afar. The young king watched for a mont and then suddenly frowned.
"The Lake Patzcuaro in rainy season can expand this much! Although a lot of fertile land by the river has already been vacated, it’s still flooded up to the edge of the farmlands. And this is just a normal year. If there were a big flood, the subrged area would probably... No wonder the villages by the lake are all built on highlands... Well, what needs to be done is flood control around the lake!... Lake Patzcuaro needs to be tad, just like Lake Texcoco, surrounded and segnted by countless dams, fully managed and tad!"
Xiulote reflected silently, with fiery passion resonating in his chest. A king’s passion is sotis similar to that of ordinary people, yet often imnsely different. This difference lies in an added confidence and boldness to reshape the mountains and rivers!
The wind swayed the wind chis, their crisp ringing overshadowing the sound of the rain. The weather, being stormy, was unsuitable for traveling. The young king quietly watched for a while, recorded his new plans in his mind, and turned to head towards the great hall.
In the magnificent hall, the guards had already prepared breakfast. A soft baked corn cake, a small bowl of tender roasted matsutake mushrooms, a grilled fish spread with chili sauce, two pieces of smoked deer at with honey, and a cup of sweet hot cocoa.
Xiulote sat cross-legged at the table, eating his simple breakfast while reading the latest reports.
The tense period of spring plowing had ended, and the fief was tranquil. The garrisoned troops and the people alike enjoyed the rare leisure amidst the storm. In the anti, nurous scouts had been dispatched to gather information about the southern nobles and to examine the movents of the surrounding tribes.
"News of the downfall of the Tarasco Kingdom has spread far and wide. All parts are shaken. From the southwest of the fief, nobles from the Tekos have already sent envoys expressing their willingness to submit and pay tribute. The latest envoys have also requested the redemption of the captured nobles and samurais."
Reading this, Xiulote pondered for a mont. Most of the samurai prisoners of war from the southern Tekos had already been sent to the Lake Capital City, and he had only kept so guides and tribe militian incorporated into the garrisoned troops.
"Since they were once enemies of the Alliance, they must pay a price! Sooner or later, I must personally conquer the Colima Mountain Region... Well, I might send back a few tribal nobles, but it’s absolutely impossible to release the capable samurais and militian."
Xiulote shook his head, issued a brief directive, then set aside the report. He continued reading to understand the conditions of the surrounding city-states and to outline the diplomatic policies for the newly ford fief.
"After spring plowing, the fief’s northern allies from Otapan City-State imdiately sent congratulatory envoys to celebrate Your Highness’ victory... and at the sa ti sought support regarding the ownership of the land on the north coast of the Lerma River?... Tepopolo has already demanded the land of the northern Wooden Fort, threatening with the massive army of the Alliance, while the Otomi people are garrisoned in the northern Wooden Fort and reluctant to hand it over..."
Reading this, Xiulote fell into deep thought.
The Otapan City-State is the ancestral city of the Otomi, holding a special place in the hearts of the Otomi. Under the influence of the old Priest Olte, the city-state’s Commander Jiowar had sworn a blood oath to him, willingly becoming a vassal. The westward conquest was arduous; the 3,000 Otomi troops had fought hard, first plundering to lure the enemy, then suffering heavy losses while attacking the formidable Rivermouth fortress. The Otomi City-State also served as a sturdy barrier for the northern part of the fief against the Chichica Canine Descendants.
As for the Tepopolo fief in the northeastern part of the Lake Region... though they were of the sa origins and had participated in the western conquest together, they couldn’t be considered as belonging to his own line of force... there was no subordinate relationship between them, and there was even competition...
The young king pondered for a mont before turning to the Head Warrior standing by his side.
"Bertade, General Jiowar has sworn a blood oath to , and Noble Chief Tepopolo fought alongside us... I really don’t wish for them to fight each other over a fief. However, His Majesty delineated the boundaries of the Lake Region and personally inford , so I find it difficult to openly take a stand on this matter."
"Your Highness, do you an... there’s a difference between close and distant relations?"
Bertade’s expression remained calm, but his eyes flickered slightly.
"Yes, Bertade, the Alliance has its own rules, but it depends on the execution... Otapan City had contributed greatly during the western conquest and has always been close to , I will remain fair... Tepopolo was only recently enfeoffed, with an unstable foundation. He has little reliable force in hand, and his authority isn’t yet established. It’s impossible for him to send troops north this year... The main southern forces have already returned to the eastern border, currently engaging with the Tlaxcalan troops. His Majesty, overlooking the world, wouldn’t consider this small strip of north coast wasteland... Head Warrior, discreetly send envoys to inform the old Priest Olte of these realities. He will know what to do."
The Head Warrior nodded, took out paper and pen, and recorded His Highness’ words.
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