"Bring the deer hunted this morning! Fetch the stolen mead! The ancestral spirits protect our tribe; today is a good day to welcome friends! I, Short Spear Moqi, will swear a blood oath here with the Tomato Priest of the Fierce Tiger Tribe!"
By the Long River, the waves crashed. It was evening, and the clouds were floating. Seven longships approached the shore, with over a hundred archers standing vigilant on the deck. Gray Soil noble Puap personally led sixty armored Prepecha Warriors onto land. He was fully armed: bronze cloth armor on his upper body, a long spear in his right hand, a shield strapped to his left, and a bronze axe at his waist.
"Ha! First they attack, then they detain, and now they want an alliance... so capricious, these damn barbarians!"
The valiant Gray Soil noble wore a grim expression, cursing inwardly. He gripped his copper spear tightly, ready to rush forward and fight the Putun Tribe to protect Priest Tomate, who was making an alliance in front.
