Aztec Eternals

Spring plowing has just begun, and April is the season for planting in Mexico.

Shulot sat on the border of the field, watching the busy farmers in the village. Most of them were bare-chested, with a loincloth tied to their lower bodies, bare feet with thick calluses, hunched backs, and wielding simple digging sticks, sweating on the newly burned farmland.

Fortunately, Mexico has no shortage of salt. The long coastline, scattered city-state rule, extensive commerce, and salt mines scattered around prevent the people at the bottom from suffering from salt deficiency and swelling. Shulot remembers that near the three cities of the capital, there are huge reserves of salt mines, which are also one of the trade products of the city in the lake.

Strictly speaking, life was actually pretty good in the Mexican tribes before the arrival of the colonists. Hulot thought.

The city-state managed its subordinate villages very loosely, without the high taxes imposed on Eurasian farmers in this era. Food is plentiful and salt is cheap. Even in barren mountain fields, an Otomi only needs to plant three to five acres to survive, and there will be no terrible spring famine. If high-yield sweet potatoes are planted in the mountains, another child can be raised.

"Except for the extremely densely populated Valley of Mexico, the fields in other areas are far from reaching the upper limit of reclamation. As long as there are enough iron farm tools, we can usher in new great development like the development of Jiangnan in the two Jin Dynasties." The boy's thoughts drifted away again. China, a hundred thousand miles away, is also developed in history.

Afterwards, Xiulot grabbed a handful of mud from the field and carefully identified the soil type: between hydrophobic sandy soil and hydrophilic loamy soil, it is a common sandy loam soil in the Mexican highlands. This kind of soil has good water and fertilizer properties and does not require much modification. It is a good agricultural soil.

"As long as a canal is built from the Leman River in the south, the dry fields in the entire Ottopan area can be transformed into irrigated fields." Xiulot looked at the south with some longing, "The production of the fields can usher in a breakthrough again, from' Shimoda' promoted to 'Nakata' or even 'Ueda'."

"But to really get high yields, you still need to apply fertilizers. River mud, manure, and the most recent natural fertilizer, struvite." Shulot recalled.

America is a famous source of struvite, and the nearest struvite gathering place is the island off the coast of Baja California in the west, which is a holy place for birds to inhabit. A little further away is the most famous Chilean struvite. In my memory, Bolivia, Peru and Chile fought a famous "struvite war".

Shulot looked at the field and thought. The samurai spread out nearby, sitting and resting while guarding. In the villages within the control area, everyone was relatively relaxed, with weapons tied behind their backs with hemp ropes and only shields in their hands.

A young warrior took out a water bag, walked up to Shulot before drinking it, and handed the water bag to the young man with a sincere face: "Priest, this is the last bag of wine brewed by my wife. , please drink."

Xiulot smiled and reached out to pick it up. The personal guard beside him, Berthard, saw it, and came first without rushing. He took the water bag, unscrewed it, smelled it, and took a sip.

"Good tequila." Bertard smiled at the young warrior, "I'm a little thirsty, let me drink some first."

"Want salt?" The young warrior also smiled.

"No, I like this bitter and happy taste. It reminds me of my previous life." Bertard was slightly emotional. After finishing speaking, he took another two sips before handing it to Xiulot.

The young samurai is called Cusola, and he has followed Shulot since his funeral in July last year, and it has been nine months in a blink of an eye.

Shulot knew that he came from a commoner family in the city-state, had a wife, and a son who was just born. Under the city of Guamare a few months ago, Shulot watched him bury his son's umbilical cord there, and promised a soldier's expectation.

After receiving the water bag, Xiu Luote was not in a hurry to drink. He took out a small clay pot, poured a little salt on the back of his hand, licked it quickly, and took another sip of tequila. In the mouth, there is a salty taste first, then an astringent taste, and then a slight punch.

"Without distillation technology, light wine would be good to drink." Shulot thought.

Then he looked at the water bag in his hand, it felt soft to the touch, very light to the touch, very unique to the touch, and well sealed, it was an excellent marching water bag.

"Did you do this yourself?" Shulot looked at Cusola curiously.

"Yes." Kusola nodded, and explained enthusiastically, "This is a water bag made of a deer's stomach pouch. Cut off the appropriate part of the stomach pouch, then seal one end with a thread and tie it tightly, and make the other end into a water bag. A live thread that can be tightened and released. Then roast the pine branches with fire, boil out the pine oil, and apply it on the stomach bag. Finally, the stomach bag is slightly roasted with fire to let the pine oil penetrate into the shape, and it will become a water bag that can be used for a long time gone."

"Your hands are very skillful." Xiulot admired.

Kusola seemed very happy: "My father is a craftsman, he taught me a lot. I also often make obsidian trinkets for my wife. When I go back, my son is probably two years old, so I just make him a wooden Toy."

"Why do you want to be a samurai?" Shulot smiled and looked at Kusola's calloused hands. "You can be a very good craftsman."

Kusola scratched his head and smiled again: "Becoming a city-state warrior, I will have a piece of land outside the city, and my wife will be able to do less weaving work. If I capture more prisoners in this war, I will be able to Get promotions and rewards. When your son grows up, he will be able to feed his warrior training with better food. Then, later on, he will have a chance to become a strong jaguar fighter and even get a chinampa."

Kusola looked in the direction of Nanfang's house with a different look in his eyes. From him, Xiulot saw the responsibility of a man, the pursuit of a parent, and the yearning for the future. Joining the army is the only way for Mexica to change class.

"Yes." Xiuluo nodded, sincerely wishing. "Your son will be a jaguar fighter."

Hearing Shulot's blessing, the young Kusola smiled happily. Bertard next to him also smiled.

"Samurai Commander Berthard, what about you, why did you join the army?" Kusola laughed for a while, then asked the same question when he saw the vicissitudes of life next to him. Xiulot was also a little curious.

"Me." Bertard looked at the sunset approaching the horizon leisurely, his eyes became distant and deep, as if he had traveled through time and space and saw the past.

"I spent five years at a civilian military academy, then as an adult, joined the army in the capital, and stayed here for another twenty years. First I fought under the great Montezuma I, then I was king of the Assaya Cartel, and now I am a King Tissok."

Bertard smiled, "The army is the whole of my life. Here I have my youth, my youth, my middle age, and my old age. Maybe it is best to die like a warrior in the end. ending."

"But you are already a fourth-level senior warrior. You have enough land and servants. You can retire and return to the city-state. You can also be a military school teacher and live a happy life with your family?" Kusola looked forward to the future of the fourth-level warrior. Live, looking at Bertard curiously.

Bertard just smiled, the hard life in the military left the marks of vicissitudes on his face, and more marks in his heart: "My wife has gone to the red country, and died with my children in Dystocia. I never remarried."

"My only younger brother was killed in last year's battle." Bertard looked at the distant clouds, "When I go back this time, his wife should remarry, and I will adopt his daughter and inherit everything I have."

Shulot lowered his head slightly, feeling a little heavy. Dystocia is very common in this day and age. The absence of contraception and the high rate of infant mortality keep women in a cycle of constant pregnancy and childbirth. If you are not careful, it will be the end of dystocia.

Therefore, in Mexica society, women who can continue to give birth to healthy boys have a very high status, like outstanding warriors on the battlefield. And once a woman dies from dystocia, she is also regarded as a soldier who died on the battlefield and deserves respect.

When Schlott was very young, his mother died in childbirth while giving birth to her second child. He vaguely remembered the appearance of his mother in this life, she was a very gentle woman who came from a commoner family in the city-state.

Later, his father married a new noble wife and many concubines, who gave birth to many younger brothers and sisters for him. These new family members were not close to him and did not disturb each other. If it weren't for him being different from ordinary people since he was a child, and being valued and cared by his father and grandfather, it is estimated that there will be a lot of bloody plots.

The three fell silent like this, looking at the distant sunset and the distant red clouds together, falling into distant nostalgia.

After a long time, Cusola asked Bertard: "Master, why do you follow the priest?"

Watching the sunset, Bertard replied after a long time, "Because, I want to change something. How about you?"

Kusola smiled sincerely: "In the beginning, I thought that the priest is so powerful at such a young age. I want to follow and seek a career and a future."

Shulot also smiled, looking at the young warrior in front of him: "Then what do you think now?"

Kusola thought about it for a while, and then said: "I think you are different from other nobles, priest. You are very good to us common people and warriors, and you also teach us characters and knowledge. You are also very good to common people. You A good man."

Xiulot was a little moved. He has heard the nobles praise him and recognize his knowledge. He just smiles. But this is another voice, and the recognition of him as a human being moved him very much.

"You two guys, I'm so embarrassed. Let's go, it's time for us to eat." Shulot stood up with a smile, pulled up the two warriors, and everyone around gathered and began to prepare dinner.

Dinner is something special. Everyone first sat around the campfire in the center of the village, grilling tortillas with peppers and refried beans. Village elders then presented two special foods: a cactus without thorns and dried red cactus fruit. He also produced a clay jug of tequila, an important treasure of the village. He expressed his heartfelt gratitude and respect to the Xiuluote Spring Plowing Sacrifice.

This kind of cactus is the "milbonta" loved by various parts of Mexico, and it is an important vegetable. Shulot took the roasted cactus first, and took a bite from the pointed end.

The mibangta is baked just right, and the skin is very thin, which should be specially cultivated. The stem meat is very tender, and it tastes like a mixture of cucumber, celery and zucchini. If you eat it in the center, there will be more juice, with a touch of sweetness, as if fruits and vegetables are combined.

Then Shulot picked up the fist-sized dried cactus fruit, which looked very similar to dried dragon fruit, with many small seeds inside. Take a bite and it's sweet. Shulot's eyes lit up, and he took two more bites, feeling a little slippery. The elder told Xiulot that this was last year's dried fruit, and that fresh prickly pear fruit would be even more delicious in October.

Everyone drank some more wine, and the warriors made a noise in front of the campfire. Soon, with enough food and drink, some warriors danced around the fire, while others watched and booed. Other warriors sent by Totek shouted for Otomi girls to come and dance. The elders of the village stood there with a look of panic and embarrassment.

Shulot waved his hand to silence the warriors.

"Rest early, accumulate energy, and return early tomorrow morning." Shulot ordered, majesty emerging from the boy's face. All the warriors gave up and left as promised.

The elders of the village hurriedly fell to the ground to thank them. After the bonfire dinner was over, the teenager had to go back to sleep. The elder gave up his house: the best wooden house in the village, and it was clean and tidy inside.

Shulot was about to thank the elder, but he saw a young girl brought by the elder, who he said was his granddaughter, to accompany the priest. The boy looked at the girl who was only about his own age, she lowered her head shyly, and stood timidly beside the elder. The young man's face, which was still extremely majestic just now, suddenly flushed with embarrassment.

Berthard smiled lightly, stepped forward and said a few words about the tradition of Mexica warriors to the elder, and then the elder quickly apologized and took the little girl away.

Farmers, artisans, warriors, and nobles. Adolescence, youth, middle age, and old age. Lord and entourage. boys and girls. All kinds of details of life came to Xiuluote's mind.

He thought about the life of the Otomi, the life of the Mexica, even the life of all the tribes of Mexico. The picture fluctuated, and finally the little girl's disappointed but relieved smile was frozen before leaving, and the boy smiled too. Then, amidst the chaotic thoughts, on the soft grass bed, I fell into a deep dreamland.

And on the floor next to him was Berthard, who was quietly guarding, looking at the distance of the night.