Aztec Eternals

The noon sun shines on the floating fields, allowing the new shoots of corn to grow. A cool breeze blew across the lake, bringing the moist smell of the soil. The three of them took a small boat and walked through the waterways of Chinampa. Shulot was wearing an ordinary sacrificial robe, while Gilliam was wearing a plain cloth. Bertard wore unpatterned leather armor and carried a longbow.

Seeing the three, the peasants on Chinampa bowed their heads and saluted. They expressed their sincere respect for Shirot's status as a low-level priest, and then continued the work in their hands, planting flowers in the crevices of the floating fields. The chores on the chinampa are never finished.

"The Texcoco Lake District is the foundation of the governing ministries of the Alliance. Within a hundred or two hundred miles from the capital, there are 1.5 million people living in the Lake District. They are only three or five days away from the capital, so they are Strict control. There are 50,000 warriors directly under the royal family, and the remaining seven states are about the same number. Only by relying on the superior strength of the directly subordinate warriors can we suppress the city-states of the entire alliance."

Gilliam solemnly talked about the status quo, with a dignified expression on his brows.

"Since the other seven states can make up 50,000 warriors, then together they should have a population of 1.5 million?"

Sherlot asked thoughtfully.

"The population of the other seven states should be slightly more than 1.5 million. There are still wild tribes in the mountains and forests. After all, the Lake District is richer, with a higher proportion of warriors and better equipment. However, the land in the Lake District has been developed. At the limit, the canals are complete, and the population has reached its peak. While the other seven states still have large tracts of uncultivated land, they can also build canals along the Tempon and Leman rivers and build chinampa.”

Gilliam solemnly recalled the relevant information. With enough investment, the populations of the other seven states can grow further. But the hub has no incentive to develop the place.

"Outside the capital and the four states, the great nobles and priests will replace the royal family and princes, occupy most of the land, and become the local rulers. The proportion of minor nobles and commoner warriors will remain basically unchanged."

Shulot pondered slightly. He remembered his family's land holdings in Teotihuacan and made a calculation in his mind.

"The large nobles of each city-state occupy 55% of the land, 20% of the priests, 15% of the minor nobles, and 10% of the commoner warriors. The influence is roughly estimated to be 55%, 30%, 10%, 5%, and the army is 20,000. Private armies of great nobles, 5,000 temple guards, 10,000 private armies of minor nobles, and 11,000 civilian warriors."

"And according to the integration of the three million people, the influence of the royal family and the government in the alliance is only 18%, the prince 5%, the big nobles 40%, the priests 22%, the minor nobles 10%, and the commoners 5%."

Shulot was secretly shocked. These specific numbers are not very meaningful, they are only rough estimates. But behind the numbers can reflect the current situation of the Mexica Union: it is similar to the nobility confederation country without strict hierarchical relationship, or the loose tribal alliance on the Eurasian steppe.

The influence of the great nobles is astonishingly high, completely autonomous, and their loyalty fluctuates. And the small nobles often obey the local big nobles. If you want to suppress the power of the nobles in various places, you can only expand the power of the royal family, unite priests and commoner warriors, and compete for the support of the minor nobles. To promote metal tools in the future, it is also necessary to give priority to the direct territory and strengthen the core strength.

The atmosphere became dull for a while. After a moment, Gilliam spoke.

"Not far to the west is the village of Tracopan. The village is the foundation of Mexica society, and we might as well go there. The Prince of Tracopan has handed over the land there, and I will also go to learn about the local Development."

Shulot nodded happily. He also wanted to know more about the village community at the bottom. The boat traversed a light arc and quickly went to the west bank of the lake.

In the outermost part of the West Bank is the neatly divided Chinampa, which belongs to the nobles or the royal family. Along the spectacular Prepecha Heights Aqueduct, the banks are dotted with villages and stretches of farmland.

Looking at the vast farmland, Gilliam smiled again. In the eyes of the Mexicans of this era, they had taken the development of the valley to the extreme.

The slash-and-burn milpas spread across the valley's plains. Relying on high-yielding American crops, milpa can support three to five people per hectare, and the yield is even higher than that of Spain's sparse dryland farmland. Although this is not comparable to the twenty chinampa per hectare, it is already a great achievement of the Stone Age.

Shilot sighed slightly. He was not satisfied with that. Today's agricultural production has huge flaws. The limited river mud and manure must preferentially supply the Chinampa floating fields, so the Mirpa cannot be cultivated continuously and must be left fallow in rotation to maintain fertility.

And more importantly, without metal tools and large animals, it is impossible to carry out the most basic and most important deep cultivation of ancient agriculture. The replacement of human power by animal power, the replacement of wooden plows by iron plows, and the replacement of sickles by scythes is the first cross-generational progress in the history of agriculture, and its significance is even equivalent to the first industrial revolution. Again, this is the basis for the development of the deep-rooted Great Plains of North America.

The boat is docked on the shore. The three walked ashore, followed by four or five warriors. Not far away is a village. In the village with mud walls and grass roofs, Xiulote actually saw the strong warehouses and shrines of Baishi from a distance. Obviously, this village is quite rich. He went to the center of the village community.

Most of the villages in Mexica are still in the stage of public ownership tribal communes. A group of four is responsible for village affairs, and a collective storage warehouse and a priest's shrine are built. There is usually a team leader for every two hundred people, who is responsible for food distribution, work distribution and accommodation arrangements for the team. The leader of the squad is also richer, able to support his own samurai to deter and manage the villagers.

Every year from April to June, and from August to October, the farming season is busy, which requires the collective stone work of the village. The rest of the time is the slack season, which requires making stone tools, spinning cotton cloth, grinding corn flour, collecting wood, repairing houses and warehouses, digging river mud for the lords, building canals and buildings for the alliance, undertaking food transportation and serving as a battlefield militia during wartime. .

All in all, in this era, the life of farmers is always endlessly busy, and there is no pastoral leisure at all. Their lives are not their own.

Before everyone approached, there was a loud noise from a distance, and there was also the bang of a long stick hitting the shield. Bertard's expression changed. He stepped forward quickly and blocked Shilot behind him. Gilliam also looked solemn.

The three passed through the thatched hut, and they saw in the center of the village, there was a taxing warrior wearing a family-print leather armor, shouting something loudly. An old village elder knelt at his feet, and beside him stood a white-clothed village priest who was anxious and arguing.

And nearly a hundred cotton armor warriors are looting warehouses in the center of the village and nearby houses, and it seems that they are collecting tribute. Some of them carried tortillas, some carried cotton cloths, some dragged turkeys, rabbits and dogs, and some even carried various pottery and stone tools. From time to time, samurai wielded sticks and shields to intimidate villagers who tried to hinder them. The rest of the people were happily busy and smiling.

On the outside, less than ten commoner warriors gathered in fear and anger with hundreds of village men, armed with crude weapons.

Shulot took a quick count. There were four groups of cotton-armored warriors present, with eighty people. This is a force that a single village cannot resist. Even with the richness of the lake area, after paying tribute, a village of this size of a thousand people can only support less than ten full-time samurai, plus hundreds of village strong men, to resist the attack of forty samurai at most.

Therefore, the tax collection team of each city-state generally consists of forty to sixty people. Taxing teams of 80 people are generally rare, because the samurai will always gain their own benefits and cause damage to the wealth of the village, which is equivalent to harming the interests of the lord.

Shirot glanced at Bertard, and the samurai captain nodded slightly. He hurried forward, walking towards the tax collector at the head.

"...The honorable Prince Tracopan will collect this year's tribute! Everyone must obey the orders of the Alliance! As a village priest, you must also obey the lord of the village, the great Prince Tracopan!"

The tax collector looked fierce. He tapped the shield with his stick, terrorizing the village priests who were still haunting him. This kind of priest from this village has always been annoying and has a special identity, so it is not easy to do it directly. But he didn't bother to look at the village elder who was begging and prostrate at his feet.

"Sir Samurai. Every year our tribute is paid according to the standard of the Alliance, why is there so much more this year! The village can't afford it, so I beg your lord to reduce it!"

The priest in white bowed his head deeply, grabbed the tax collector's arm, and asked in a low voice.

The tax collector frowned. Impatiently, he pushed the priest in white away and shouted loudly.

"That's because the merciful prince has always been tolerant in the past, and you have already owed many debts. This year is the last time to collect taxes, and you must pay them all in one lump sum! The laws of the Union have always been like this, and the nobles of Tracopan follow this. Standard! Huh? If you don't believe it, you can go to Tracopan and ask now!"

There are no words or decrees, and it is not up to the nobles to decide how much to charge. How could the white priest leave now? He could only plead again and again, hoping for a kindness that did not exist in the taxing samurai.

Bertard strode forward. His face was calm, anger was suppressed in his eyes, and he asked in a deep voice.

"The new year hasn't started yet. The date for the alliance to collect tribute hasn't come yet, why are you collecting taxes now?!"

The taxing warrior looked up and down at Bertard's simple attire, and began to pay no attention. Then, when he saw his walking posture, his pupils shrank. Finally, the longbow behind him stayed for a moment, and finally showed contempt.

"Huh? Where did the wild warriors come from, they still use such despicable weapons as bows and arrows! Of course Prince Tracopan decides when to collect taxes. You can doubt the prince's orders? Why don't you go away!"

Saying that, he waved his battle stick, and several warriors quickly gathered beside him, half surrounding Bertard in the center.

Bertard didn't change his face. He continued to question solemnly.

"This land and village will soon be handed over to the royal family. You are taking away the excess taxes in advance. Are you handing it over to the Alliance? When the new year begins, the royal family will officially collect taxes. What will these villagers pay?"

Hearing this, the village chief who was kneeling on the ground suddenly raised his head and looked at the tax collector in disbelief. The priest in white also took a few steps back in astonishment, and then quickly shared the news with the warriors and strong men in the village.

The village samurai, who were trying to endure, couldn't bear it any longer. They shouted urgently, and the armed men also boiled. The crowd waved their weapons and braved each other to approach each other, approaching the cotton-armored warriors who were also wielding weapons, seeing the conflict and the slaying on the verge of breaking out.

The tax collector's eyes flashed fiercely. He made a gesture to the left and right, and pressed towards Bertard with murderous intent.

Sherlot has been watching calmly, nodding to his followers at this time, and then moving forward proudly. A follower took out a rare horn bestowed by the elder and blew it loudly. The thick and deep voice resounded through the heavens and the earth, and everyone immediately paused in their hands and looked at it in unison.

Shirot's expression was majestic, with the aura unique to the superior. He walked calmly to the center of the crowd, stared into the eyes of the tax collector, and yelled loudly:

"Samurai of Tracopan, you have taxed more than the Union rules. Prince Tracopan is a man of knowledge and will never stand on the opposite side of the Union. His intention was only to collect one last extra charge. Taxes, you are taking advantage of this opportunity to exploit and drive the village to a dead end. How stupid!"

The tax collector was stunned when he heard the words. He was captured by the momentum of Shirot, took a half step back slightly, and waved his hand to stop the warrior who was about to start. Then, he carefully looked up and down the young man in front of him. Although he was wearing the robe of a low-level priest, he had a majestic and handsome face and an incomprehensible temperament.

He was slightly frightened in his heart, and hesitantly asked, "Who is Your Excellency?"

But Xiulott ignored it and continued to scold: "Who can you hide from what you are doing? Once the alliance and the prince confront each other, have you ever thought about the consequences?! You are going to use your own head to quell the anger of the royal family. ?!"

Hearing this, the tax collector's face turned blue and white. With such a tone and knowledge, he must be in front of a big man. Immediately, he looked at the young man's age again and recalled the Venerable at this age. After a while, he finally remembered something in shock.

He quickly glanced at the boy again, then glanced at the longbow behind Bertard's back, and then without hesitation, he quickly told the warriors to put away their weapons. Afterwards, he knelt down on his knees towards Shiloh and bowed respectfully to the ground.

"It turned out to be the great and wise His Highness the 'God Initiator' here! I was really blind just now, and I didn't recognize His Highness's true face. It is an honor to be able to hear His Highness's teachings with my own ears, like meeting a god!"

Shirou was stunned for a moment, "God enlightener"? Where did this name come from? He didn't have time to think about it, he just stared coldly at the tax collector in front of him.

"Do you recognize me?"

"Reporting to Your Highness, not long ago at Changqiao, when you and the priests and elders bid farewell to the prince, I happened to be with you. It is a great honor to be able to see your beautiful face like a flower from a distance!"

This time, the taxing samurai truly praised him.

Shiroutte's face darkened. But in this day and age, people do like to use flowers to praise samurai. In people's hearts, it is the beauty that is common to men and women, and it is more inclined to strong men.

Shulot did not say more. He imitated the emotionless gaze of the elder.

"Since you can serve the prince, you should know the benefits. Go back!"

The tax collector took another step back when stabbed by the gaze. But he hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"Your Highness, you don't have to do anything else. But the tortillas and cotton cloth are the prince's instructions, and I have to take them back for business."

Shulot looked at the tax collector majestically. He pressed his eyes for a moment, and was about to speak again.

Gilliam suddenly stepped forward. He has been watching all this with a smile from the back. Until he saw some young cotton-armored warriors, after hearing the dialogue, he took out the battle stick again in dissatisfaction.

"Okay. You can go now." Gilliam smiled slightly, but took a deep look at the tax collector and wrote down his face.

Immediately, the chief intelligence officer turned to look at Sherlot and said in a low voice.

"Prince Tracopan lost his allegiance to the royal family not long ago, so there is no need to start disputes over these trivial matters. I will reduce the tribute to this village this year."

Shilot nodded slightly, then he waved his hand majestically to the tax collector.

The tax collectors went to pay homage again, and then hurriedly led the tax collectors who were still indignant, and fled without looking back. They took the same number of tortillas and muslins as in previous years. But this time twice as many people came, and most of the cotton armor warriors did not get the expected harvest.

The village priest then pulled the village elder forward and greeted respectfully.

Shulot comforted the village elder a few words. I just asked the village priest seriously.

"Behind you is the priesthood of the alliance, the supreme divine authority. Why are these tax-collecting teams so weak?"

The village priest replied with a wry smile.

"Respected priest. Although the priesthood is powerful, it can't help much in this village. The tax collection team of the local nobles is lawless, and the lords are the kings of the village.

If I am in a hurry, I have to dedicate myself to the gods here. At that time, the villagers in the village should not dare to report the truth. And the nobles report a slipping into the water or a coyote attack, and this is over. "

Shulot was stunned when he heard the words. He fell into deep thought. Obviously, his previous assumptions were still too simplistic. Village priests want to compete with local nobles for control of the village, and it is absolutely impossible without the support of force.

Most village priests are selected from their own villages, and their standpoints are indeed opposed to local nobles. But in order for them to play a practical role, they must provide some weapons, equipment and personnel guidance to launch, train and master the militia. Let them have the most basic force support in place.

Then, it is necessary to place an organized temple guard at key nodes, which can timely support the village priests and deter the surrounding nobles. The initial run is the hardest. Once the whole system really works, the power of the priests will continue to increase, and the power of the nobles will be gradually weakened until a new balance is established.

Shiloh nodded slowly. He asked quietly.

"Makes sense. Very clever. What's your name?"

The white-robed priest smiled in surprise, revealing a middle-aged face.

"Respected priest, I am Bravo of Tracopan, and I am willing to serve you."

Obviously, the village priest of this age must be a commoner.

Shilot nodded slowly. He didn't say anything, just silently wrote down Bravo's name, and in the slightly disappointed eyes of the other party, he returned with Gillim. After returning, he will investigate the priest's situation.

The sun has set in the west. The group did not stay in the village, but with the gratitude of the village leader, they boarded the boat and went to the capital city in the lake.

Boating on Texcoco Lake, the sun is brilliant golden, and the lake is full of brilliant waves. Shulot looked at the capital in the lake from afar, but found that the magnificence of the capital was only faint waves here, and it could not be sprinkled on the valley like sunshine.

Just like the power of the royal family, it stops outside the fiefs of the nobles.

Shulot carefully looked at the distant capital in the lake light for a while~www.readwn.com~ before slowly looking at Gilliam.

"What privileges do the nobles of the alliance have?"

Gilliam looked solemn. He thought for a moment before answering seriously.

"The hereditary nobles are completely autonomous, and the fiefs are hereditary. The fiefs do not pay taxes and do not bear corvée service. A tribute is provided every year, and the king needs to give back. In wartime, private troops are provided, but the children of the great nobles serve as the chief officers of the army. Taxes, allowing private foreign trade. Except for having no diplomatic power, the great nobles are almost the kings of the fiefs. The royal nobles are equivalent to the hereditary nobles, but the king is the senior of the royal family and has natural management rights."

"Military aristocrats are partially autonomous, and their fiefs can only inherit part of their fiefs. The fief's population is partly responsible for taxes and corvée, and a tribute is given once a year. Whether it is returned depends on the king's preference. Serving in military service during wartime, at least serving as a grass-roots officer. The fief does not contain cities and has no business. Taxes also allow foreign trade, and the royal family’s caravans are given priority. The royal family’s greatest control over the minor nobles is the inheritance of fiefs.”

"The royal family needs to know that small nobles are easy to be promoted, but big nobles are difficult to demote. Hereditary awards must be cautious!"

In the end, Gilliam looked solemn, bowed his head and saluted, and read a lesson from the royal family.

Shulot nodded slightly and returned the salute earnestly. He didn't say anything. Gilliam also stopped talking. The two watched as the capital city in the lake was getting closer. Under the setting sun, the white stone city is so magnificent, and the Great Temple of the Twins is so majestic and tall!

The young man's eyes gradually flowed with bright light, and his thoughts followed the light, spanning time and space.

Kingship and divine power are quietly standing in the capital of the Mexicans. They are waiting and looking forward to the future that is destined to shine in the world!

"Even though the road is still long, there is me."