Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America!
Chapter 710 - 375 Southern Nobility

Chapter 710: Chapter 375 Southern Nobility

The Tarsas River originates from the mountains of Tlaxcala and flows westward for over a thousand miles, forming the wide Atoyac Lake in the southern part of the Kingdom. In the local language, Atoyac means "Great Lake."

The Atoyac Great Lake spans hundreds of miles with its vast expanse, where busy canoes traverse, linking the north and south of the Great Lake, trading goods from all directions.

To the south of the Great Lake are endless undulating mountains and forests, scattered among them are the Tekos Tribes, calling the land below their feet Sakatura. Further east from Sakatura is the newly acquired mountainous region of Weytamo by the Alliance. On the north shore of the Great Lake are the rarely seen fertile plains, where Prepetcha’s villages are rich and bustling, with thousands of acres of farmland collectively sustaining a major lakeside city.

That is the trade center for all the southern Tribes, Zicao County Government, Kulamo City. The city boasts a population of over twenty thousand, numerous Temples, and a massive trade market, making it the most prosperous place within a two-hundred mile radius.

East of Kulamo City lies an exceptionally spacious Manor. This area is densely wooded and vividly landscaped, evidently long tended with care. Beautiful broken trees flourish outside the Manor, majestic dahlias bloom within, and hundreds of Samurai are stationed throughout the premises.

Entering the Manor, the architectural style is quite luxurious, built on a foundation of White Stone and red rock, embellished with Gold and Silver, incorporating many features of the people of the East. Along the garden path, deep inside, stands a solemn main hall. At this moment, a group of southern Great Nnobility dressed in fine clothes, sit surrounded, facing each other in silence.

The main hall, built of blue stone, has a skylight separated by a thin veil, and walls adorned with painted deities, quite spacious within. The seating arrangement inside is orderly; seated directly in the center are two middle-aged Nnobility. On the left, a Nnobility with a handsome visage and lean figure, carries a restrained grandeur. On the right, a Nnobility with a full face and stocky build, has a fierce demeanor.

The heavy silence lasted for a long time before the stocky Nnobility could no longer hold back. He looked at the handsome Nnobility and angrily asked,

"By the three Gods! Zicao Clan Leader Guramo, will you join me in taking up arms or not!"

Guramo pondered for a moment, then calmly responded to the stocky Nnobility,

"By the three Gods! Palm Clan Leader Zotol, with tens of thousands of Royal Army troops marching south, raising troops now is simply a no-win situation!"

"Bah! What of tens of thousands?"

Zotol spat vehemently, his voice ice-cold.

"Guramo! Violent robbers seek your men and land; are you really going to open your doors wide and hand over the legacy left by your ancestors?"

Upon hearing this, Guramo’s expression changed, and he lowered his head without a word.

Zicao Clan Leader Zotol waited a moment but received no reply. He decisively stood up, addressing the Great Nnobility in the hall,

"We are the Nnobility of the Tarasco Kingdom! This land has belonged to our generations! How can we simply hand over what our ancestors left us!... Let us pick up our weapons and fight to the end against the invaders from the North!"

"Palm Clan Leader is right, let’s fight those Northern Barbarians to the end!"

The atmosphere in the hall grew even heavier. Some young Nnobility stood up, loudly cheering in agreement, while more Nnobility remained silent.

Seeing this, Guramo sighed and spoke softly,

"Guramo, it’s not yet that stage! The King has summoned us to Aotuo, surely there will be decrees issued. Perhaps we can negotiate... even if we have to give up thirty to fifty percent of our lands, if it can secure the Kingdom’s promise, it would be acceptable!"

"Right, it’s not settled yet, is it? Maybe the King is just levying a Tribute!"

"Indeed, the King has just returned from the northern campaign; he must rest for a couple of years. We can pay a Tribute for peace."

"Let’s go meet the King first and hear the Kingdom’s decree..."

Most of the Nnobility then began to speak, and a disordered chorus of agreement sounded in the great hall. The Kingdom’s southern region had long been peaceful, and the Great Nnobility enjoyed the commercial benefits of the Tarsas River, exceedingly wealthy. They had preserved themselves from the brutal campaigns in the west and still felt fortuitous.

"Ha! You bunch of cowardly fools, still thinking about an audience! The King from the North is coming down with tens of thousands of Samurai, do you think he’s here for a getaway?!"

Zotol looked around at everyone, cursing resentfully.

"The Samurai and Militia in my territory have been fully mobilized, ready to fight to the death with the Mexica! You haven’t even raised your troops yet; what will you use to resist when the enemy is at your doorstep? Or do you plan to be the fish in the pot, meekly stewed?!"

Hearing this, Guramo’s eyebrows rose as he looked toward Zotol.

"Zotol, aren’t you going to listen to what the King has to say?"

"Listen to hell! I came here today to find you cowards and take action together!"

Zotol’s face turned beet red.

"There are a thousand Mexica stationed in Kulamo City. I’ve brought five hundred Samurai; we can join forces and clean them out, taking control of Kulamo City! Guramo, I ask you one last time, are you in or not?"

"...Zotol, the time is not right yet."

Guramo replied in an even tone, rejecting the proposal.

"Kulamo City is full of our people; we could take it anytime. The key now is the tens of thousands of Northern Royal Army... We should first meet the King and hear his decree."

"Ha! Ha!"

Zotol, fuming with rage, laughed mockingly.

"Guramo, are you planning to bring your rose-daughter, Medina, to see the King with you?"

Upon hearing this, Guramo’s eyes drooped, and his voice turned cold.

"Zotol, not everyone is like you. Your family is near the southwestern mountains, closely connected with the Tekos Barbarians. If you really can’t resist, you can still lead your people into the mountains. We, however, have no defense and our roots are all on the plains by the lake."

"Ha!"

Zotol scoffed and looked away from Guramo. He surveyed the other Nobility, asking,

"And what about you? Surely you don’t all have a rose-like daughter like Guramo!"

Most of the Nobility still shook their heads silently. The elder noble, Xiteli, advised in a low voice.

"Zotol, we understand what you’re saying. Everyone is mobilizing, it’s just the situation right now... let’s wait a bit longer."

"Then keep waiting! A bunch of howler monkeys waiting for death!"

Zotol turned and left directly. Before leaving, he continued to mock,

"No, you’re not even as good as howler monkeys! Even they know to make noise before they die! You are like ants’ eggs, just scoop out and eat right up!..."

"Hey, Zotol, where are you going?!"

The elder noble, Xiteli, shouted as he followed behind.

"I’m returning to my fief to move the women and children into the southwestern mountains! Our brave mountain warriors will kill all the invaders in the rugged forests... no matter how many there are! Roar!"

Zotol roared lastly and strode out of the grand hall. Some nobles from the southwest left with him.

The grand hall fell into a dead silence. After a while, Guramo rubbed his forehead and forced a smile,

"Well then! Let’s go have an audience with the King first, but do not stop mobilizing everyone in the fief, be prepared on both fronts."

The Great Nobility murmured a few agreements and exchanged some meaningless platitudes, then stood to leave. The old noble, Xiteli, intentionally stayed back. When no one else was around, he approached Guramo and asked softly.

"Guramo, there are many Prepetcha nobles in the northern Royal Army... how well have you contacted them? Can you persuade them?"

Hearing this, Guramo’s brow furrowed instantly, and his pupils constricted. While reaching for his Short Dagger at his waist, he asked with a smile,

"Xiteli, from whom did you hear this news?"

"Ha! Guramo, being tied up and killed is not your style. I watched you grow up. Zotol is just a noisy baboon. You, however, are a deadly viper!"

The elderly Xiteli chuckled and watched Guramo’s hand, also securing his own Long Dagger at his waist.

"My fief is north of you, how could I not know about the envoys you sent out... Besides, at this point, what secrets do we have between us? Surely, you’re not thinking of succeeding alone?"

Upon hearing this, Guramo slowly let go of his hand and smiled faintly.

"Xiteli, you old crow, your eyes are indeed sharp... they have all accepted gifts, and some have agreed. But given the current situation, none can be relied on..."

"That’s also true. Things have come to this point, and previous agreements can’t hold. Now in every village of the different Tribes, northern rural Sages can often be seen. It’s possible that the Chieftains are also having other thoughts."

Xiteli shook his head and sighed softly.

"Truly, I envy Zotol, having the deep forests to hide in; I also envy you for having a beautiful daughter. And here I am, this old bundle of bones, unable to rely on anything!"

After speaking, the old crow Xiteli turned and left, staggering out the door. Guramo silently watched as his figure disappeared. After a long while, he murmured in response,

"Old crow, I envy you too. Having no choice, you needn’t suffer like this."

Afterward, the handsome Guramo stood up, slowly pacing in the empty grand hall, admiring the vibrant murals.

The murals on the four walls featured many bare-skinned dancing spirits and many provocatively posed women. The style of these paintings was actually more inclined towards Maya, a kind of indulgent extravagance. The Zicao Family, in a land of abundance, had diverged from their northern kin for over two hundred years. Generation after generation, the Family Heads lived sumptuously, delighting in beauty and dances, deeply influenced by the customs of the southern City-States.

After a long while, Guramo finally looked around at his trusted aides and ordered in a deep voice,

"Go, summon Medina and the musicians!"