Chapter 172: Oath
The wind howled, the dark clouds hung low, and there was silence in the big tent. This was the moment to decide the fate of the north, and the flickering bonfire illuminated every solemn face.
Xiu Luote examined General Giova for a while. Then, he pondered for a moment and looked at the old priest.
"Priest Ort, what kind of covenant do you want to sign? Alliance, city-state or individual?"
Ort was well prepared. He said loudly.
"All three, all are brotherly alliances, how about it? The Mexica Alliance is the eldest brother, the Otomi Alliance is the youngest brother, the Holy City is the eldest brother, the Ottopan City is the youngest brother, you are the eldest brother, and Giova is the youngest brother. The two sides established a covenant and lived in harmony with each other. When one side is attacked, the other side will send troops to help; when one side takes the initiative to go to war, the other side has the obligation to support!"
Hearing this, Bertard's face changed. He stepped forward and shouted loudly.
"Your Highness is the rising sun of the Mexica people and the future master of the world. How can you make a brotherly agreement with the general of the Otomí people?"
Xuluot pondered for a moment, nodded slightly to the chief warrior, and then spoke.
"Priest Ort, I can't fully represent the alliance now. The alliance will never agree to a brotherly agreement. The Mexica people are only vassals! What's more, can you represent the nobles of the various states of the Otomí Alliance?"
Ort bowed his head slightly, revealing his white hair. Since the last contract was signed and the city of Jilotepec was abandoned, his reputation has been much worse than before. After a long while, the old priest said in a deep voice.
"Yes, I can't represent the nobles of various states either. I am a religious leader. I can only represent the ancestral land of Otopan State and try my best to restrain the two states of Guamare and Pams. This negotiation between the Mexica Alliance and the Otomí Alliance will still be in the form of a peace agreement. The Otomí people will send a complete legion to respond to the war in exchange for food support from the Mexica people."
Then, Ort said calmly.
"As long as I am alive, the peace treaty between the two alliances can be guaranteed. If I die, Giova still needs your support to control the city of Ottopan."
Xuluot watched for a while and nodded.
"I agree that you can send your legions to fight in exchange for a new batch of food. Similarly, I can support Giova, but it cannot be a brotherly relationship. The Holy City cannot accept this condition!"
Ort closed his eyes, and his old face kept shaking. After a while, he suddenly opened his eyes and roared in a low voice.
"Then the two city-states will be brothers. You two are brothers in name, but vassals in reality! Giova needs enough reputation to control the city of Ottopan. From now on, the two states will be closely related politically and secretly united. The army will respond to the battle and pass through each other militarily. We will also hand over hostages in exchange for your blessing in the alliance!"
Hearing this, Giova's expression changed drastically, and his hands clenched tightly. He looked at the young commander, who was the same age as his son. Then, he looked at Priest Ort again. The respected old man had a haggard face and was almost exhausted. After a while, he bowed his head deeply and said nothing.
Xiuluot looked serious and fell into deep thought. At this point, the old priest's intention was very straightforward. Giova represented the city of Ottopan and surrendered to him alone. The Ottopan family exchanged the blessing of the Holy City family in the form of an unequal covenant, and from then on they united with each other. This was a direction he had never thought of.
After a while, Xiuluot laughed loudly. His eyes were shining, and he no longer concealed his ambitions.
"Ort, you can actually do this! You seized the most clever opportunity and found the most suitable opportunity for the Ottomi people. I really admire you! At this time, I can't refuse your proposal. Come on, use the highest sacred ceremony, under the joint witness of the gods and ancestors, let us conclude a blood oath that cannot be violated!"
Hearing this, the old priest nodded calmly, without any joy on his face. He just performed a solemn ceremony and headed towards the road he found.
Soon, the priests accompanying the army became busy. The big tent was lit with curling sacred smoke, and a blazing sacred fire was lit in the center. The priests played the distant bamboo flute, the generals beat the low wooden drums, and the remaining warriors danced the war dance around the center of the ceremony.
In the center of the big tent, the young priest danced first. He took out the sacred staff that had not been used for a long time, danced the priest dance of the holy city, and chanted clear prayers. His movements were slow and solemn, like a walking jaguar; his singing was high and sharp, like a crying eagle.
The old priest took out an ancient ceramic mask. Half of the mask was black and the other half was white. This is a treasure that has been passed down by the Otomi people for thousands of years, from the ancient Olmec era. He covered his cheeks with the mask, and his old body danced an ancient dance, and then swayed quickly, like a walking feathered serpent in mythology. In the ancient sacrificial dance, he kept hissing, and the low-frequency snake sound made people shudder and their hair stand on end. Sometimes, he would chant in a low voice, telling the long-standing legend in an incomprehensible tone.
A mysterious atmosphere permeated the big tent, and everyone's expression was serious and focused. In the hearts of everyone, this sacred ritual was real and powerful. Once this highest level of oath was violated, the reputation would suffer a devastating blow.
The sacred priest dance lasted for a full quarter of an hour, and the two priests, one old and one young, stopped. Xiuluot was sweating all over, and Ort was shaky. The two walked to the holy fire in the center and called on different gods to come. As the name of the god sounded, the generals and warriors also stopped their actions at the same time, knelt on one knee, and prayed towards the center.
Then, Ort waved his hand, and Giova came forward with a solemn expression. Bertard also walked to the center and protected His Highness closely. The priests accompanying the army prepared a large cup of cold cocoa and sent it to the holy fire.
Xiuluot looked at Giova opposite and nodded to this old friend. Then, he took out the obsidian dagger, cut off a bunch of hair, and threw it into the holy fire. Giova did the same, and a faint smell of burning instantly spread.
Then, the young commander opened his left hand. He did not hesitate to cut the palm with a sharp dagger. The stinging pain came instantly, and blood dripped down, dyeing the cocoa below red. Then, he handed the sacrificial dagger to Giova, and the warrior leader beside him was careful.
Giova took the dagger and cut deeply on the palm side. More blood flowed down and fell into the cocoa continuously. The sacred cocoa turned bright red, and the blood of both sides melted together.
Then, Xiuluot picked up the pottery cup on the ground and drank half of the red wine in big gulps. A metallic taste similar to mushrooms lingered in his mouth, accompanied by the unique bitterness of cocoa.
"Under the gaze of the Supreme God! I, Xiuluot of Teotihuacan, a descendant of the former king Akamapichtli, swear by the spirit of my ancestors and make a blood oath with Giova of Otopen!
I will regard Giova as my younger brother and my loyal vassal. For the rest of my life, I will give him protection. Protect his life, protect the city-state of Otopen, and protect the Otomi people here! This oath is established. If you break the oath, you will be abandoned by both humans and gods!"
Xiuluot recited loudly, and the solemn ceremony brought a special feeling. In the distant divine smoke, he was a little dazed, as if he really felt the touch of his ancestors and the gaze of the gods.
Giova was unusually solemn. He took the pottery cup and drank the other half of the red wine in one gulp. Then, he pressed his bloody palm to his chest, stared at the holy fire with his narrow eyes, and shouted loudly.
"Under the gaze of the original god! I, Giova of Otopan City, a descendant of the former king Otopa, swear by the spirit of my ancestors and make a blood oath with Shulot of Teotihuacan!
I will regard Shulot as my elder brother and my noble lord. For the rest of my life, I will be loyal to him. Guard his life, provide Otopan's army and tribute, and make the Otomi people here his obedient subjects! This oath is established. If I violate the oath, I will be punished by God, my blood will be drained, and my limbs will be separated! The ancestors witnessed my oath, and I engraved the covenant on my face!"
At this point, Giova's eyes were sharp, staring at the wounds on both sides of Bertard's cheeks. He raised the sharp blade and stabbed it into the side of his face, leaving the same mark without changing his face. Then, he looked at the young lord in front of him with a calm expression and a hint of arrogance.
Xiu Luote nodded calmly. He took off the sun amulet from his neck and pointed his bloody finger at the ground. The blood dripped down, the dust splashed, and the red spread on the ground.
Giova was slightly stunned. He understood the meaning, hesitated in his heart, and turned to look at the old priest Ort.
The old priest's pupils contracted, and he said softly.
"Your Highness, for thousands of years, the original god has protected the Otomians. This is our belief from the heart."
Xiu Luote shook his head solemnly and spoke decisively.
"Ort, the Lord God is supreme! The original god can abdicate and become a saint. If the Otomians want to truly integrate into the alliance, they must eventually worship the God of War as the supreme. Of course, this is not urgent, and Giova does not need to convert publicly. But at this moment, he must accept the Lord God's amulet and convert here secretly!"
Ort looked at His Highness, feeling the determination that could not be disobeyed. After a while, he nodded silently.
Giova was stunned for a long time, and it seemed that there was a heavy weight on his knees. Xiuluot did not urge him, but waited calmly. General Ottopan's face was a long struggle, changing into different expressions, and he could not settle down. The old priest finally sighed and patted his shoulder gently.
"My child, I have watched you grow up since you were a child. Your father died in the battlefield after years of fighting, and your son died of disease after starvation in the siege. Generations of Otomi people died in war and famine. We struggled to maintain the inheritance of our tribe in the north, fighting waves of invaders. For the continuation of our tribe, everything can be sacrificed. Precious faith is also a measurable price. How can it be an exception?"
Hearing this, Giova looked at the always pious old priest in shock. Complex emotions flowed in his chest. He was burning all over, and wanted to shout out, but in the end he suddenly lost his strength and knelt down in front of Xiuluot.
Xiuluot looked deeply at the old priest again. Then, the young priest nodded solemnly, put the silver amulet on Giova's neck, and then held his hair.
"Giova, under the witness of the Supreme God, you will swear to Him, obtain the sacred duty, and glorify the glory of the Lord God! Come, chant His name with me, Huitzilopochtli"
"Huitzilopochtli"
Giova's face was dim. In front of the new god, he lost his faith and the rebelliousness in his heart, like a coyote being tamed.
Xuluot stared at Giova's expression and nodded with satisfaction.
"Giova, let go of everything in the past, I will promise you the future!"
The old priest turned around with vicissitudes, and did not look at this scene until the end of the conversion ceremony.
The sky gradually darkened, and the oath came to the end. The two priests, one old and one young, stood opposite each other again, looking at each other's faces.
"Ort, why did you choose me?" Xuluot looked at the old priest in front of him. He seemed to have aged a lot.
"Your Highness, I have observed you for a long time and collected a lot of information. I have seen your rapid growth and an unlimited future." Ort replied calmly.
Xiuluot was silent for a moment and asked again.
"Why choose me?"
"The situation in the world is changing, and everything will change. Under the pressure of current events, you will be the hope for the continuation of the Otomi people." Ort thought for a moment and gave the answer in his heart.
"Why?" the boy asked.
This time, Ort also thought for a long time. After a long while, he slowly answered.
"Because... you are not a ruler without bottom line. You are a... good person who can be trusted."
Xiuluot was silent for a long time. Finally, he waved his hand and turned away. Behind him, Ort bowed deeply.
The oath of the two sides was formally signed. In the deep twilight, the Otomi envoys hurried away. Xiuluot sat in the big tent, silently looking at the dark sky, and fell into long thinking. Light and darkness, repeatedly intertwined in the boy's heart, weaving a fusion of gray. Behind him, Bertard stood quietly, having seen the vicissitudes of the world.
The Mexican army waited for another two days. An 8,000-man Hikipili Corps marched out of the city of Otopan, and under the leadership of Giova, officially joined the Mexican army of the North Route.
Xiuluot led the guards and happily welcomed the Otopan Corps, but was speechless for a moment. Among the corps that the old priest Ort promised, only 3,000 lean warriors could really participate in the battle. As for the remaining 5,000 Otomi militiamen, each of them was skinny and had sunken eyes from hunger. I'm afraid they haven't had a full meal for months.
The young commander looked at it for a moment and shook his head with a smile. These militiamen can only be used as civilian laborers, and they need to be given enough food to feed them for at least half a month. No wonder the old priest gave it so readily. However, the transportation capacity of the Mexican navy is limited, and there are not enough civilian laborers in the North Route Army. With these people, many chores can be handled by someone. Some extremely labor-intensive siege equipment began to appear in his mind, such as the complex structure of the tower car that fully utilized the advantage of range, and the high platform with piled earth.
After completing the purpose of this trip, the Mexica army immediately turned south and returned to the wooden fort on the Leman River. The Otomi people were dispersed and placed in two camps far away from the main fort. The warriors of Otopan maintained an independent organization and formed their own. Five thousand militiamen were organized to cut down forests in the mountains and make siege equipment. The continuous wind and rain continued to fall, but the rain began to gradually decrease. The rainy season has passed its peak, and new opportunities for war are being nurtured.
Time passed quickly, and it was September in a blink of an eye. The Tarasco fleet returned from the west, carrying a full ship of Chapala reinforcements. Seeing the gradually gathering enemies, Xuluot was a little anxious. He sent a large number of scouts to scout the south bank at any time.
It was another morning. After Xuluot finished his morning training, he came to the top of the city and looked out. The rain gradually stopped, the clouds became clearer, and in the gradually emerging sunlight, the huge Mexica fleet finally reappeared from the east of the river.