Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America!

The heavy rain poured down, washing the blood-stained leather armor, wiping the damaged small boats, and falling into the merciless river water, stirring up faint red ripples.

The world dimmed for a moment. The somber skies made the birds take cover, silencing the forest. Only a robust red falcon soared in the heavy rain, beating its powerful wings, alone in the vast sky. It circled the battling bipedal beasts and flew to the wooden fort on the north coast, surveying its territory. When it took flight again, riding the long wind beneath it, the skirmish on the river had subsided, and the sound of rain faded into silence.

Hundreds of Mexica boats hurriedly approached, surrounding the central revered figure, standing solemnly in the dwindling drizzle, waiting in silence.

Xiulote stood at the prow, his left arm wrapped in a bleeding bandage, watching the departing Tarasco fleet. His eyes were a restrained crimson, the boiling intent to kill surging in his chest, filled with the determination to avenge his trusted aides. The young commander surveyed the number of small boats, glanced at the blood-soaked Bertade, then stared toward the large group of enemies to the southwest. The desire for battle and the realism of strategy fiercely clashed in his mind, like the wind-beaten river water.

After a long pause, the wind and rain gradually lessened. Xiulote raised his head, looked toward the incoming red falcon, let out a hearty long howl to the sky, and then suddenly raised his hand and fired an arrow.

The war arrow "whooshed" through the sky, like lightning racing forth, piercing the overcast clouds and descending abruptly. The red falcon, proudly circling, startled by the howl, briefly hesitated. Then, the arrow soared above, grazing its gray-red feathers, plucking a long plume. The red falcon cried out in pain, "Ki!". Then, it swiftly spread its wings, abandoning the territory it had held for many years, fleeing hastily toward Cuitzeo Lake to the southwest, away from these dangerous beasts.

Xiulote watched the departing raptor, the shot only a hair's breadth away, almost missing the title of a master archer. Moments later, he looked toward his samurai awaiting orders and suddenly burst into laughter.

"The red falcon escapes to the southwest, it is the will of the Chief Divine! The Tarasco people will lose their fortress, frantic like birds abandoning their homes! Glorious, glorious, to slay twenty warriors in one battle, a samurai should indeed be like this! Bertade, you killed about forty Tarasco warriors, didn't you?!"

Xiulote laughed heartily. He looked at the Head Warrior, his war armor soaked in blood, recalling the fervent battle just moments before.

Bertade was taken aback. He had intended to explain that among the enemies he shot, there were a dozen paddlers in simple clothes, and that the victory relied on the shooting advantage during the pursuit. Then, the Head Warrior caught the Young Commander's gaze, pondered for a moment, and a look of realization appeared on his tranquil face.

"Your Highness, exactly so! I have slain forty warriors, and still have strength left in my hands! Before the mighty Mexica Eagle, Tarasco men are nothing but wild rabbits awaiting slaughter, bowing their heads to death, easily defeated!"

Hearing this, the Young Commander laughed out loud. He looked around at the smiling faces of the samurai, then again at his loyal Head Warrior, and proclaimed loudly.

"Bertade, you are the Sun God's sacred eagle Cuauhtli, the foremost warrior among tens of thousands! This battle, the War God has blessed you, granting you divine power when fighting against the followers of foreign gods! From now on, you are the 'Eagle Head Warrior,' anointed by the divine, a status as venerable as the Divine Descendants!"

Hearing the King's words, the Head Warrior showed a shocked expression. He was overwhelmed with turbulent emotions, and a flood of feelings rushed to his heart, overwhelmed by a mix of emotions. He understood what those words meant. If the King's reward was acknowledged by everyone, with the anointment of the chosen by the divine, he would no longer need to care about his commoner origins, having the qualifications to command the nobility's armies.

Training in Martial Arts for thirty years, on the battlefield for twenty, his childhood dreams have been realized in this moment!

Bertade's mind raced, touched by the King's timely and clever choice. Immediately, he knelt on one knee, bowed his head, and saluted deeply.

Xiulote laughed again. With a clear gaze, he swept over all the samurai present, observing their faces showing respect, surprise, contemplation, or envy. The Young Commander took note in silence. Then, he looked at the dissipating clouds and slowly raised his longbow.

"In the name of the Chief Divine Huitzilopochtli! I, the Divine Bloodline of Mexica, the Fourth Level High Priest of the High Priesthood, the foremost heir to the King, Xiulote, on behalf of the Chief Divine, reward the most devout warrior of the gods, Bertade from Tenochtitlan, conferring upon him the title of 'Eagle Head Warrior!' From now on, he shall be the bravest sacred eagle under the Chief Divine, fighting until death for the glory of the Chief Divine!"

With the proclamation of the young priest, the drizzle came to a halt. The first ray of sunlight broke through the layers of fog, falling from the darkened sky as if the Sun God had revealed itself, eliciting exclaims from all the warriors.

Xiulote observed the brightening sky, nodded to himself as the timing was perfect. Then, he lifted his longbow above his head, letting the sunlight fall upon the Greatbow, as if blessed by the Chief Divine. The young priest called out the god's name three times, then solemnly handed the longbow to the kneeling Head Warrior.

"With the Chief Divine's blessing! Bertade, you are now a divinely chosen warrior, to battle for the Sun God!"

Xiulote spoke thus.

"To dedicate everything to the Chief Divine! Your Highness, I will protect the deity of my heart and ensure the sun rises to its zenith, forever shining upon the world!"

Bertade responded thus.

The sunlight fell, illuminating the faces of the two men, outlining the smiles at the corners of their mouths. Between the young King and the veteran Samurai, the allegiance ceremony took place for the second time, on a small boat by the Lerma River.

With the oath-taking complete, they skipped certain rituals. Xiulote stepped forward, raising the Head Warrior's right hand that held the bow, facing the many Samurais and officials.

"My brave Samurais, the Chief Divine blesses the courageous! The war of the gods is destined to triumph! The Mexica are fated to conquer the world!"

Under the Young Commander's inspirational speech, the Samurais witnessing the miracle in their eyes regained their morale and cheered in unison. They raised their thunderous chants to the clearing skies once more.

"Divine war, conquest! Divine war, conquest!..."

Xiulote smiled, listening to the passionate shouts of the Samurais, and nodded slightly.

His mind raced with thoughts, contemplating the right person for the task. How could he spread the legendary battle record of Bertade and the divine manifestation of the Sun God throughout the army... After a while, he thought of Etalik, the commander of the Temple Guards, an experienced old warrior.

The sunlight enveloped the boat, forming a sacred halo around it. Xiulote nodded and whispered a few instructions. Immediately, a dozen small boats broke away from the fleet and headed towards the fort near the Rivermouth, cautiously searching for any possible survivors. Then, the Young Commander raised his hand high and pointed northeast; the Samurais roared in response. The fleet set sail once again, heading towards the Wooden Fort on the North Coast.

Before departing, Xiulote took one last look at the direction of the Rivermouth fort, making up his mind in determination. He recalled the height of the stone walls of Stone City, the width and design of the water gates, and his thoughts grew clearer. Then, he remembered the round-faced nobleman from the Tarasco's great boat who had relentlessly pursued them, and anger rose within him once more. The young warrior swung his War Club fiercely, making a silent oath.

Nearly a hundred boats sped along, leaving the deadly battlefield behind, sailing toward the Commander-in-Chief's Wooden Fort. Bertade stood by the monarch's side with a complex expression, his thoughts tumultuous. After a long pause, he spoke softly.

"Your Highness, as you said. The battle between Samurais is but a mere splattering of blood three feet away, bloodshed five steps apart. Although filled with lofty aspirations, experiencing the thrills of life and death, what is decided is merely the fate of a moment, of a place, of a few dozen people at most. Even with the bravery of the Great General Totec, it is impossible to turn the tide.

Nevertheless, battle between Commanders stretches across a hundred miles, spanning the heavens and the earth. To capture one city in battle, to annihilate one country in ten wars, to lead thousands into battle, this is the making of a hero.

And when Monarchs clash, their gaze spans thousands of miles, their hearts encompassing a century. Every word and deed become the law of the land, every plan sets the great trends of the world. To embrace all like the earth, to hang high like the sun in the sky—this is your true destiny!"

Hearing Bertade's advice, Xiulote paused briefly, closely observing the Head Warrior's weathered face. After a moment, he burst into laughter and grasped the Head Warrior's arm affectionately, then began to speak warmly.

"Bertade, you have always been by my side, yet you still manage to impress me! Today, your rescue has taught me to recognize your ability; I can entrust you with great matters... I admire your bravery, but I cherish your wisdom even more!

The eagle soars high, its ambitions grand, needing strong and full feathers, but also clear eyes to see everything. Between us lies a bond of monarch and subject, as harmonious as the wind and the dragon!"

Bertade looked into Xiulote's eyes, as if trying to peer into the young monarch's heart. Although he did not comprehend the meaning of the last sentence, he could feel the sincerity and esteem in the words. He knelt silently on his knees for a moment, offering his hair once again, completing the final step of the allegiance ceremony.

Xiulote's expression was solemn. He took out the Short Dagger he carried, gripped the Head Warrior's hair, and gently cut off a lock, tossing it into the surging river.

"Bertade, I have heard your counsel! I am now the Commander-in-Chief of the great army, and will no longer act with the valor of a mere foot soldier. The Samurai Xiulote has already been carried away with the great river!"

With that, Xiulote swung the Short Dagger fiercely, cutting off half of his own hair and casting it into the mighty Lerma River. The tumultuous river waters flowed westward, taking away the symbols of the young warrior, towards the endless Pacific Ocean. It would also return to the distant homeland one day.

Then, the Young Commander raised his right hand to the westward-flowing river, and swore aloud to the heavens.

"Bertade, I swear by my ancestors' names! Should I one day become King, you shall be Marshal! The waters of the Lerma River shall not run dry, nor shall the bond between monarch and subject ever end. In this life, we shall stand by each other with loyalty and integrity, and never betray one another!"

Hearing this, Bertade stood in a daze, his eyes unexpectedly moist. Suddenly remembering the moment Totec died, he reached out and took the King's Short Dagger. Then, the Head Warrior, above the great river, slowly cut off all his black hair, deeply slashed both sides of his cheeks, and calmly handed back the Blood Dagger, remaining solemn and silent throughout.

This was the tradition of the Mexica. To cut off one's hair for loyalty, to mark one's face with an oath, to serve the Divine King, so it was!