"Your Highness, I...I swear on the name of my ancestors!"
Overwhelmed, Espai trembled violently, forcibly casting himself down to the ground. His emotional defenses collapsed in a moment, fear, awe, anticipation, and gratitude surged through his heart, emerging as a choked and sobbing cry.
"From this day forward, I shall serve you unto death!"
Xiulote calmly regarded Espai for a moment before smiling. He stepped forward, grasping the Crocodile Commander’s hair, and said with a gentle smile.
"I am aware of your loyalty. The night is deep, go back and rest!"
Upon hearing this, Espai hurriedly rose, bowing deeply to His Highness. He glanced one more time at the Great Chief’s head, then staggered and turned to depart.
Xiolote’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he watched Espai disappear from the ramparts. Only then did he slowly turn, his gaze shifting towards the two surrendered men, his smile turning icy cold.
"The Chief of Tarasco...did he leave any last words before he died?"
The old Militia watched the Great Master’s expression and shuddered inside. After Ezpan translated the question, Puap respectfully bowed his head and repeated the Chief’s final instructions.
"The Colima Mountain Region, the Great Chief, the noble bloodline, Prince Shatini..."
After listening to Ezpan’s translation, Xiulote’s gaze flickered. He mused for a moment, then sighed softly.
"To make such arrangements before death, almost planting a seed of trouble for the Alliance...such dedication from a Chief..."
The young King was stirred by complex emotions. Looking at Puap, he asked without a trace of emotion.
"Your Family Head put great trust in you, entrusting the Prince to your hands. Then, you turned around and beheaded him, bringing both the Prince and the head to us. Puap, as a loyal Samurai, do you feel any guilt?"
Upon hearing His Highness’s calm question, Puap felt both ashamed and remorseful, unable to utter a word. Fear and guilt entwined in his heart, he suddenly fell to his knees and wept softly.
"I didn’t want it to be this way...it was...it was always Chiwaco who did it..."
Upon hearing this, Xiulote’s eyebrows rose slightly as he shifted his cold gaze towards the old Militia.
"Was it you who killed your own Family Head, severing his head?"
Seeing the eyes of His Highness, Chiwaco’s heart beat violently, a sense of imminent danger rising within him. The old Militia immediately fell to his knees, bowing deeply three times before raising his head and shouting urgently.
"Wise Great Master, this so-called Chief was never my Family Head, nor have I ever received an ounce of kindness from him. On the contrary, he was a cruel tiger, a greedy wolf! He destroyed my village, killed my fellow villagers, and ruined my home! He was my enemy!"
Xiolote’s expression changed as he spoke.
The old Militia clenched his teeth, gathering the courage to look directly into Xiulote’s eyes, and spoke with sincerity.
"I was once a farmer in a village of the Lake Region. I had a hardworking wife, a fifteen-year-old son, and a thirteen-year-old daughter. Although the Tribute was heavy, we farmed and fished, and life was rather good. Corn turned into cakes for Tribute, pumpkins and beans filled our stomachs. We also grew sweet potatoes, made pots and bowls, even bricked under our house..."
Chiwaco’s expression became distant as scenes of the past flashed before his eyes. He thought he had become cold enough, but now a warmth flowed within him. However, soon dark memories followed.
"Last spring during the planting, I was busy in the fields, my wife cooking with the children. The Samurai came from the Capital City for conscription. I boarded a small boat, took up a Long Spear, and before I could speak to my family, I was taken hundreds of miles north. I was stationed at the Rivermouth fortress, then the Lords boarded us onto a ship to a Great Lake where I faced a massive battle. I will never forget that scene. Fire Arrows flew across the sky, becoming exploding Fire Demons, countless ships burning, flames covering even the water!"
"The Battle of Lake Yuriria."
Xiolote’s eyes sharpened; this was a veteran of the battle on the lake.
"It was terrible! When ships crashed together, they burnt together. Lords fell like cornstalks, Militia like weeds. Dozens of my fellow villagers died in that battle, leaving only a handful of old brothers. We rowed a small boat, escaped back to the Rivermouth fortress. The Alliance army soon followed. Surrounded for months, Feathered Arrows flew, the roar of the God of Thunder outside and inside the walls, Fire Demons burning on the ramparts. Lords on the ground and on the wall turned to weeds, charred by flames. Then, the Force of the God of Thunder struck, the western gate where I was stationed burst open, and the Alliance’s Lords flooded in like a deluge!"
"The Battle of Rivermouth Fortress. You actually escaped alive!"
Xiolote was visibly moved. He considered the old Militia before him thoughtfully.
"I led my brothers out of the city, got a small boat, and fled south to my home. I was full of hope, wanting to escape the war and live the same life as before with my wife and children. But when I returned to my hometown..."
Suddenly, Chiwaco sobbed uncontrollably. Large tears fell from his eyes, soaking his blood-stained Black Robe.
"The village was gone...my wife was gone...my son and daughter gone! This damned Chief, thrice conscripted, not even a living dog remained in the village, just one old man who should have died but didn’t! His son died too, he had no more hope. When I last ventured out, he too had perished, his body sprawled like a dog!"