Aztec Eternals Chapter 242

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The wind in June is mighty, riding on the cascading clouds. It rose from the Great Lakes of the Gulf of Mexico, traveled for half a month, and finally arrived in the wilderness of the Patzcuaro Lake District, bringing the first rain of the rainy season.

The sound of rain tickled down, and the drizzle of light rain splashed from the sky and fell on the semi-barren land in the Patzcuaro Lake District, making the soil softer and more suitable for farming tools. The drizzle was flying, soaking the endless farmland that was being reclaimed, and also wet the farmland, Ding Zhuang, who was busy with his head down.

The weather in June has already begun to be hot, and thousands of Ding Zhuang are collectively farming in the fields, like a busy ant colony. From a distance, it is quite spectacular. Most of the Ding Zhuangs were topless, with only a loincloth tied around their waists, a bamboo basket on their backs, and a digging stick in their hands to maintain the ease of labor. The fields under the feet of the Ding Zhuangs have been simply marked with wooden sticks and divided into obvious strips, each of which has its own length to be completed.

The old militiaman, Chihuaco, used his hands to push the digging stick into the field and turn it again and again to dig a finger-deep hole. Next, he took out a few corn seeds from the bamboo basket behind him, carefully put them into the small hole dug out with his hands, and then used his feet to gather the ashes of the burned plants and trees to roughly fill the small hole. Even if it's done.

Then, the old militiaman took another step with his right foot and dug another hole with a distance of more than half a meter. He has been doing these farm work for more than ten years, and the ones that have already been cooked can no longer be cooked. Picking it up again at this time, there is a kind of cordiality and security from the heart.

The drizzle caressed gently, the breeze was gentle, and half a day passed in such a hurry. The old militia plowing for more than a hundred steps in a row, then straightened up and sighed leisurely. He looked up at the cloudy sky, wiped the rain and sweat from his face with his hands, and shook his hands vigorously. Then, he turned his head and looked at Wizti, who was lagging behind.

"Stupid wood, hurry up! The sky is dark, and the rain is expected to get heavier. Finish today's work early, and go to the pergola to rest together."

"okay."

Wizti wrapped his headscarf and glanced up at the old man. With a small-looking body, he can do farm work much faster than his young man. He responded with a muffled sound, and continued to dig with the pointed stone blade of the digger.

"This scene is really lively! It's like a swarm of bees."

The old militiaman rested and looked around. He first saw the busy Ding Zhuang crowd around him and sighed. Then he tilted his head and looked at the long strip of land he had cultivated.

This kind of long and narrow strip was newly drawn by the great master, and it is called "mu"; then it is stipulated that a "step" is taken with one foot on the left and right. Each acre has 240 steps long and one step wide, which is marked by wooden sticks inserted by the people of the great master in advance, and each acre is separated by half a step. The Ding Zhuangs just keep their heads down and work in one line. The planting of each acre is still the same as before, first planting corn, then beans, and finally pumpkin.

Chiwaco is an old farmer. He stretched out his hands, and after careful calculation for a long time, he roughly understood. In normal years, on ordinary land, the harvest of this acre of land is about 80 catties, with corn as the main food, kidney beans as the supplementary food, pumpkin as the topping, and the pumpkin leaves can also be eaten as vegetables. The corn in the field should not be planted too densely, and a pit can only be planted with one foot, otherwise the cob will not be produced.

In general, field yields fluctuate with the land and are also related to precipitation, fertilizer, light, and heat. On the fertile and good land by the lake, the harvest will increase by 20%, while on the poor and barren land in the mountains, it will be reduced by 20%. The tropics do not worry about light and heat. Generally speaking, the biggest limitation is precipitation.

In terms of precipitation, the Patzcuaro Lake District is a valley in the plateau, similar to the Sichuan Basin, and the annual precipitation is similar to that of the Texcoco Lake District, at 1000-1500 mm. The precipitation in the mountains on both sides will turn into streams, and there is no shortage of water in agricultural production, but the rainfall is unevenly distributed, and there is a danger of flooding in the rainy season.

The climate here is a savannah climate, with an annual average temperature of more than 20 degrees, which is divided into distinct dry season and rainy season. In August and September, when the rainy season is at its peak, the area of Lake Patzcuaro will expand significantly, so planting in the lakeside area should be extra cautious, build slightly higher fields, or build floating fields like the Mexicans.

As for the soil strength in the fields, in this era when there is a lack of iron farm tools and large livestock, and deep cultivation is impossible, it can only be solved by natural fertilizers, fallow and burning of land. Corn is planted at such a large distance, and the nitrogen fixation with kidney beans is necessary to maintain an adequate supply of nutrients.

"Well, the harvest of four acres of land, more than three hundred catties of grain, plus wild vegetables in the field, is just enough to consume one Ding Zhuang for a year. Is this what the eldest man said 'one stone'?"

Thinking of this, Chiwako raised his head and counted the strips he wanted to complete, and there were exactly ten fingers. The old militiaman took a deep breath again. He grumbled in a low voice, but a smile appeared on his face.

"It's really cruel, a single Ding Zhuang planted ten acres! When the harvest was busy, I was probably so tired that I spit in my mouth and collapsed like a fish on the shore. But ah, I really look forward to the harvest scene!"

"Uncle, I'm done. It's a lot of work. It's more tiring than before in the village. Let's go and take a breath!"

Wizti finally caught up. Out of breath, he took Chiwaco and walked to the pergola between the fields. These neat fields are clear and distinct, and at intervals, there is a large pergola built with thatch. There are several large buckets in the pergola, some farm implements and seeds are piled in the corners, and in the center is a simple altar of the main god. It is raining today, and the sun is not too bright. When the rain stops, it is impossible to work under the sun at noon. You must rest in the shade.

As the two approached, two Mexica warriors were revealed in the pergola, sitting cross-legged on the ground chatting. The weather was so hot that they had no armour, but wielded battle clubs and sharp bone whistles around their necks. These two samurai were the overseers of the field. They are responsible for supervising the work of the Ding Zhuangs, guarding the altar of the Lord God, and also responsible for the farming tools, buckets and seeds in the pergola.

"you..."

Seeing that someone was approaching to rest, a young warrior glanced up, and was about to scold. The other older warrior stopped hastily, tugging at his arm.

"Let them rest... They have done great deeds and have seen His Royal Highness... It is said that they will be sealed as nobles!"

The young warrior swallowed the following words. He glanced at it twice, then turned his head and said in a low voice.

"It's just the Prepecha militia who betrayed the old master, and they don't have any extraordinary martial arts. They can even be named as the nobles of the alliance and stand on our heads!...Hey, His Highness said that he would give us land rewards. Gong, why hasn't there been any movement yet? Instead, let us warriors take care of the chores in the fields."

"When did His Highness miss the decision? No matter what your background is, whether you are a seller or not, it is His Highness's consistent practice to reward you for meritorious deeds... Some time ago, didn't His Highness hand out a reward of gold and silver cloth and be promoted to the rank of samurai? Now? There is a shortage of small mouths, if you really grant the fields, do you plant the crops yourself? ... We just listen to His Highness!"

"Of course, Your Highness is right. It's just that gambling is not allowed in the army, and there is no fun in the city. Even women are arranged to work... These gold and silver are not of much use in our hands!... We, as the alliance, Samurai, you have to find a future on the battlefield. As long as you save enough prisoners and heads, and make enough credit, you can also become a military noble in the future! ... What kind of future can you have in the fields."

Hearing this, the old warrior also sighed. His eyes showed eagerness to fight, like a wolf that was lurking and enduring secretly, but he continued to persuade him.

"Gold and silver remain in our hands. Even if we can't spend it here, we can go to the market in the hinterland of the alliance. When the family moves from the hinterland of the alliance, we must lay the foundation here. Later, we will build houses, buy herbs, and buy slaves. Anything costs a lot of money..."

"As for the credit, following His Royal Highness, are you afraid that there is no credit to be made? After the west expedition, everyone is exhausted, and they have to rest for a while. After the autumn harvest is completed, when you go out to conquer, you will be able to do more disasters. Grab some bites and food!"

The young samurai nodded with an expectant smile on his face. By this time, Chiwaco and Wezti had entered the pergola. The Mexica warriors simply said hello and stopped talking.

Chiwako returned the gift with a smile on his face. Then, he walked to the wooden barrel, scooped it with a wooden scoop, and drank the water directly. The cold water flowed into his throat, dispelling the heat from his body, with a dash of sweetness and saltiness.

The water is drawn from a nearby deep well, filled into wooden barrels, pushed by a new wheeled cart, and transported in the morning. The eldest man has a request that everyone is not allowed to drink lake water at will in the rainy season, but must drink well water or clean stream water. The alliance never lacked salt, and there was a large salt field near the capital. The eldest man asked the people to add salt to the water to better maintain Ding Zhuang's physical strength.

As for the kind of wheeled car, the old militiaman also carefully watched it with curiosity. This kind of wheelbarrow can be driven freely on the muddy ground of the lake plain, but it is difficult to say in the forest where the trees are intertwined. There are two wooden handles on the wheelbarrow, a board box for carrying goods, and a large wheel below. The center of the big wheel is empty, there is a circle of supporting wooden strips, which are all cut into neat lengths, and there are two reinforced shiny copper nails... Anyway, it is time-consuming and laborious, and it must be done with bronze tools , the cost is also expensive, like something used by a gentleman.

Beside the old militiaman, Wizti simply took two sips of water and came to the altar in the center of the pergola. The altar is made of blocks of wood and stone and bears the sun symbol of the Lord of Mexica, and is surrounded by a circle of sun-dried grains, mainly corn kernels, kidney beans and pumpkin seeds.

Wizti bowed his head and silently prayed in his heart, chanting the name of the Lord God, and praying for a good harvest this year.

Usually during spring ploughing, the priests of the village would bring everyone and pray to the **** of harvest. Now the Alliance manages everything, and the Mexica priests also travel around for ceremonies. It is said that the power of the Lord God is very strong, and it can cover everything, and it also cares about the harvest... I am a little suspicious of stupid wood, but it is better to pray than not to pray, and let's see how the harvest this autumn will be.

The two of them rested for a quarter of an hour, then went back to work in the fields, and when they were busy, it was time for dinner. At this time, the rain has gathered a little, and the dark clouds have thinned a little. The sun hides behind the clouds, and on the edge of the dark clouds, it dipped into a gorgeous red glow, which is inexplicably moving.

It was a day of hard work, and more than one mu was planted, and it would take another five or six days for ten mu.

Chiwako wiped his sweat, picked up the pointed end of the excavator, and saw that in less than two days, the blade of the stone had worn out a lot, and the blade must be replaced in between. Fortunately, it is said that the great master has already made arrangements. The craftsmen in the city are using bronze tools to build spare farm tools for days and days to supply Ding Zhuang who is farming outside the city.

The old militiamen have used bronze spears and know that this metal is quite durable, but the production is scarce and the cost is high, and it is always preferred for tools and weapons. As for the bronze farm tools, we cannot count on them for the time being.

In fact, the digging during planting is actually not bad, anyway, there is no need to dig the ground, and the stone digging stick is also used. The real effort is the scythe at harvest, and having a sharp scythe saves a lot of effort. In terms of sharpness, the alliance's obsidian blade is the sharpest, much faster than the ordinary bronze blade. It's just that the black yao stone is limited in origin, wears out quickly, and the cost is also high.

While walking along the ridge, the old militia looked at the sky, thinking about his thoughts. The surrounding Ding Zhuang stopped work one by one and gathered into a team on the road. The Ding Zhuangs were talking to each other about today's food, and the field became noisy. From time to time, Chiwako was greeted with a salute, and the old militiamen responded with a smile.

The Mexica warriors maintained the order of the team and returned with them, leaving only one civilian man on duty in the pergola. The villagers had to sleep in the fields and watch them all night. If the farm tools were lost or the altar was damaged, it would be a serious crime of cutting, whipping or even beheading.

Of course, this kind of drudgery doesn't come from Chiwaco. He is now the captain of the Tuentian Army, with a militia brigade of 200 people under his command. Yes, the Ding Zhuangs are all descendants of Tarasco, and now they are arranged by the eldest master to do collective farm work. Everyone is organized in the form of an army, staying in collective camps, getting up on time every day, praying, having breakfast, and doing farm work until evening, then praying again, having dinner, and then returning to the camp to rest.

This kind of life is to farm the fields in the form of the army, and then feed themselves, and the surplus grain is used as the army ration for the expedition. The number of the descending troops was calculated in the thousands, and they were all scattered at this time, and the battalion of 1,000 people was divided into 30 battalions. The officers of each battalion were served by Mexica warriors, Mexica militiamen, deserving generals of Tarrasco, or earlier Tarrasco convicts.

Puapu is now leading the 1000-man battalion, and most of the other old brothers are captains of 200 people. Only Wezti gave up his position as captain and always followed the old militia quietly.

The crowd gathered at the end of the field, then roughly divided into different groups, and returned to the camp noisily. The captains of each team shouted and scolded loudly, and Ding Zhuang marched in the scolding and chaos, and barely maintained the basic order.

The old militiamen led their own brigade, like a flock of turkeys, and kept shouting. After a few days of collective labor constraints, these Ding Zhuang already have rough rules. At least they won't stop halfway, let go anywhere, or catch hares in the grass. It's also possible that this was the effect of the Mexica warrior's whip.

At the front of the queue, Puap had a stern face and was marching with the Tuntian Camp. He finally became a hereditary aristocratic master, but he still had to bring his subordinates to do this kind of hard work in the fields. Master Huitu is now full of dissatisfaction, but he does not dare to attack, because this is a task that His Highness strictly requires and values.

When the spring ploughing started a few days ago, His Royal Highness even went to the ground in person, and brought a group of senior commanders and generals, each of whom planted more than an acre of land. A regiment commander who looked like a monkey was very good at farming, and even planted two acres at the same time. Since His Royal Highness and the commanders have demonstrated in person, officers at all levels naturally dare not neglect, at least they need to pass the limelight.

Master Huitu thought about the good days after the limelight passed, and a smile gradually appeared on his face, but a group of tidy-looking Tuntian troops gathered in front of him.

Seeing the pace of the opposing army, Puap's face was solemn. He looked at it for a moment, and recognized that this was a thousand-person battalion composed purely of warriors. Of the thirty battalions, there were about five such warrior battalions, all from Tarrasco warriors who had surrendered in previous battles. The army in front of him was extremely strict, and the battalion commander headed was the young "Sky" owner, Horta.

Horta had the same sullen face, like a debt collector. His subordinates are family warriors who follow him. They have always claimed to be one body and work together. His Highness has not dismantled and reorganized.

In the past two days, there has been terrible news from the northwest: the Sky Family, which has been passed down for two hundred years, has been completely cleaned by Prince Feather, and has since disappeared in the Chapala Lake District. For this reason, His Highness personally summoned the owner of the sky family, and offered to comfort him. He also promised to give the noble Mexica daughter as his wife, so that the sky family could lay a foundation in the alliance.

Facing His Highness's appeasement, Ortanono should be grateful, but he couldn't show a smile on his face. The hatred full of hatred accumulated in his heart, making him always long for revenge and killing, longing for the day when Chapala was defeated.

Under the leadership of the commander-in-chief, the two camps gradually approached. Puap measured for a moment~www.mtlnovel.com~ and stopped, signaling to let the sky warriors go first. Orta nodded proudly and walked away, but after taking a few steps, he remembered something, and turned back to the gray soil warrior.

"Puap of gray soil?"

"Respected Sky Patriarch." Puap's face changed, and he bowed his head first.

Horta, who came from a hereditary aristocracy, bowed her head in return. He squeezed out a stiff smile and looked at the new noble with shallow roots in front of him.

"Aristocrat of gray soil, I have something to ask you to help with, please don't refuse."

"You say."

"His Royal Highness asked us to settle the fields. Each person in the camp completes ten acres, and one battalion has thousands of people and ten thousand acres."

"really,"

"My camp is all born of samurai, and I'm not good at farming. Can you send some Ding Zhuang, born from an old farmer, to help out?"

Puap was silent for a moment, then smiled and nodded in agreement.

"No problem, of course."

"it is good!"

Horta finally showed a sincere smile. He patted Puap on the shoulder and said with a smile.

"Respected ash noble, I will tell His Highness your help to me. The Lord God bless! May we accumulate food as soon as possible and conquer the damned Tarasco remnants!"

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