Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

By sunset, the man's only achievement for the day was a steel billet about the length of a palm, three fingers wide, and two fingers thick. It would take several more days to truly take shape, and the subsequent series of grinding, trimming, and shaping would take at least half a month.

His progress today seems pitifully slow, but only the man himself knows how beautiful the patterns will be after the steel billet is ground and acid-treated... This will be his masterpiece, and an honor for his entire family! — To make the finest spearhead for the noble and great Consul of Tersolius! The finest craftsmanship and the finest materials.

To complete this glorious task, he turned down all other orders and handed them over to his apprentices, which also gave those young men some training. He devoted himself wholeheartedly to the work at hand.

He carefully placed the steel billet, the result of his painstaking efforts, into the box. The sky outside had completely darkened, and the hot soup and bread his apprentice had brought him had gone cold.

He ate the hard bread with the cold soup without a care, while pondering what to do next.

Among the army, there were only a dozen or so craftsmen of his caliber, each renowned and experienced. He was the youngest among them all, and even he himself hadn't expected such good fortune to fall into his lap.

Serving such a noble person naturally requires one to exert all one's strength. Especially when one thinks of those old guys who always dislike him and their eyes turn red with anger, one becomes even more motivated, wishing one could skip sleep and start working immediately.

After a moment of impulsiveness, the man immediately calmed down and suppressed his thoughts—exhausting himself would prevent him from doing things well, and might even lead to flaws, which would backfire.

The man casually placed the bowl on the workbench beside him, telling the apprentice to clean it up tomorrow. He closed the workshop door, looked at the rising moon outside, thought for a moment, and then turned and walked towards a nearby camp area.

----

Three muscular old men were exhaling and pounding on the iron bar in front of them, stretching and thinning the bar, which was about the thickness of a thumb, with extremely exquisite skills to control the force in their hands, making every bit of it even and suitable.

The first thing the man saw when he pushed open the door was this scene: a continuous, sharp metallic clanging sound, like a storm, as the iron bar had been stretched to an arm's length and was still extending.

This undoubtedly requires exquisite skills—many blacksmiths can stretch steel, but to stretch this iron bar to the length of a spear and ensure it is uniform is not an easy task. In this process, if there is the slightest negligence, the iron bar will contain cracks or weaknesses, and all previous efforts will be in vain, and you will have to start all over again.

Moreover, even if it is stretched to the specified degree, it must be ensured that after quenching, it is as hard as a fine sword, while also possessing good toughness and elasticity, so as to ensure that it can perform its due purpose—becoming a sturdy core for the spear shaft.

The esteemed person who issued the order had high requirements for the sturdiness of the spear. After a brief discussion, they came up with the following plan: use a tough iron bar as the core of the spear shaft, and intricately engraved iron and copper rings on the outside to ensure the appropriate weight while also being resistant to sword cuts and even damaging the opponent's blade.

Seeing him come in, the three old men showed no sign of stopping. They continued to work closely together, each with a hammer, the large and small hammers rising and falling alternately, sparks flying everywhere, until the iron bar turned a dull color before carefully placing it into the furnace to heat.

“Alipros, what are you doing here instead of doing your work? Don’t worry, we definitely won’t let you down here…”

233 Collusion (1)

The man named Alprilos put his hands behind his back, chuckled, and walked over, ignoring the cold stares of the three old men. He glanced down at the forge with feigned interest, then couldn't help but click his tongue in admiration.

"You even went so far as to modify the furnace to complete this task... This is the first time I've ever seen such a long furnace. Will it be able to heat the water evenly?"

"You don't need to worry about that. We've also lengthened the air duct and furnace below to ensure that every corner has enough temperature so that the spear core won't malfunction. Even if the spearhead breaks, it won't break."

Although he was slightly stung by the words, the man, who was in high spirits, still had a smiling expression—after all, these three guys who had never gotten along with him could only be his assistants this time, so he could tolerate them saying a few sarcastic things.

"Then I'm relieved. After all, time is very tight this time. After you finish making it, I still need to hurry up and do the next steps."

He deliberately lingered there for a while, then left with his hands behind his back before the iron bar was fully heated. The three old men glared at him, somewhat annoyed, but as the empire's best craftsman, he quickly rallied and returned to his work, the clanging of metal striking metal ringing out once more.

At this moment, the man did not look like a renowned master craftsman of the empire, but rather like an idle vagrant. Such people are often in a precarious situation in this country, and no one would like to see them. Sheriffs and officials would not like these unstable factors either.

At this point, he should have gone back to his room to rest. Craftsmen of his caliber no longer need to be busy repairing soldiers' weapons all day like ordinary craftsmen. Instead, they are responsible for managing the entire crafts team and handling certain troublesome matters. They have plenty of free time during the day—except, of course, during wartime, when no one can stay out of it.

But today he was in an exceptionally good mood, his steps were exceptionally light, and his spirits were exceptionally high. He didn't feel like going back to rest for the time being. After hesitating for a while in the courtyard of the craftsmen's camp, he chose another direction and walked over.

A curfew has been imposed, and the soldiers are all staying in their own camps and are not allowed to go out. Except for those who go to the toilet, most of the soldiers, who are exhausted from the day, have already fallen asleep. The military camps stretching for dozens of miles have gradually quieted down, with only the light of the lamps illuminating the footsteps of the patrolling soldiers.

The management of the artisan camp was relatively relaxed, so he walked slowly and steadily to the front of a barracks.

This barracks was also built from the trunks of the pine and fir trees that grow abundantly in this area. It appeared rugged yet sturdy and spacious. The doors were fixed in place by carving holes in the tree trunks for the door frames. At this moment, the interior was brightly lit and relatively quiet... but if you listened carefully, you could hear a very regular cutting sound, slow and long, revealing a calm and meticulous attitude.

The man reached out and grasped the rough doorknob, still bearing the marks of cutting, and pulled open the heavy door. Everything in this camp exuded a sense of roughness, but these would be quickly improved later, until it became a solid, permanent camp, serving as an important supply point for the army after its departure.

Inside the room was a young man with slightly curly, light black hair and a round, pale face that gave him a prosperous appearance. His muscular forearms were visible beneath his rolled-up sleeves. He was carefully holding a curved double-handled knife, cutting a flat, black piece of wood from a long wooden frame.

The young man was clearly focused on his hands, completely unaware that someone had pushed the door open. He continued to apply precise and powerful force, cutting the excess material into thin strips that fell to the ground.

"How are the preparations going, Alp?"

The young man's hands didn't even tremble, but a look of surprise appeared on his face. He slowly dragged the peculiar tool in his hand toward himself, cutting off a thin slice of black wood before placing it on the table beside him.

"Teacher, what brings you here? I'm almost done with preparations. Once the core material arrives, we can start gluing and polishing."

As he spoke, he pointed to a long, bench-like wooden frame next to him. The frame had a two-finger-high edge around its sides to prevent the contents from rolling off. On top of it were several meters-long black wooden planks, each one supple, smooth, and perfectly flat.

"We happen to have Miluo glue and Proser lacquer that were delivered last month. Once the core material arrives, it will be completed in ten days, and we can use the remaining time to carefully refine it."

"Among these thousands of craftsmen, only you have this ability. Even I, as your teacher, cannot compare to you in this world. But you still cannot be careless. You can never be too meticulous. I will absolutely not let anyone rush you. Just focus on doing your own thing."

"Understood, teacher."

The young man smiled simply, wiping the sweat from his brow. The weather was already chilly, but he was only wearing a thin linen shirt, yet he felt no cold at all, his body radiating warmth.

"If it weren't for Miluo glue and Proser lacquer, it would take at least a year to make a fine iron-core Qiluo wood lacquered spear shaft. I don't usually have the good fortune to use such good materials, so I certainly wouldn't dare to be negligent or wasteful in the slightest."

"Don't even mention you, I've never used them... no, I've never even seen them, I've only heard about these things in books... I heard that these are treasures from His Majesty's treasury, and were specially sent here."

The young man was stunned. After a long while, he said, somewhat bewildered:

"This is really... I didn't expect this, Your Excellency..."

"Don't talk nonsense here!"

His teacher frowned, interrupting the young man before he could finish speaking. His tone, previously gentle, now carried a hint of sternness.

"Be smarter. There are some things you shouldn't get involved in, and you shouldn't even say anything about! You need to know what you should be doing!"

After saying this, Alprilos glanced around nervously, as if something was silently watching them from a corner he couldn't see... sending a chill down the young man's spine.

"I understand, teacher. I will do my job well."

…………

After nightfall, even the artisan camp quieted down. People who had been busy all day stopped what they were doing and many went straight to sleep in their workshops. After all, not only were the soldiers working hard, but the artisans were also extremely busy. Doing so would save them a lot of time.

A mocking voice suddenly came from the side of the room, and a shadowy figure appeared silently, as if rising from the depths of the water.

"You seem to have scared them; did you give yourself away?"

"Come on, who's going to bother with this? It's not like I have nothing better to do..."

In an instant, the place fell silent again, with only the insects of late autumn chirping their last, but their voices sounded weak and feeble, like a flickering candle.

-----------------------

In the dead of night, all was quiet. A damp, cold fog enveloped the bustling city near the lake. In a marble castle within the city, someone was staying up all night, gazing at the moon with a worried expression.

King Julius wore a heavy cloak made of wolf skin over his shoulders to shield him from the cold night air, and his hair, which was no longer neatly combed back, was wildly disheveled as if it had been blown by the wind.

He had dismissed all the servants and his subjects. Now he was alone in the spacious room, where the crackling of dry, oily wood in the fireplace filled the air with a fresh aroma, making the room warm and dry.

He stood there, and the king, in the prime of his life, should have been at his most energetic, ambitious, and driven. But now, his once straight back was beginning to hunch, and his golden hair was streaked with white, making him appear rather颓废 (颓废 is a difficult word to translate directly, but it implies a state of listlessness, apathy, and a lack of energy).

As time slowly passed, the cold moonlight reflected in the lake outside, Casaya, blurred his vision. The clear, bright light contained the chilling glint of swords, as if it wanted to pierce through his eyes and into his brain until it left a bloody wound.

A chill ran through his boots. The weather in the Kingdom of Hols was always associated with moisture and cold. This was thanks to the cold air that blew in from the Sea of ​​Us every year during this season, bringing abundant rainfall to the country and making its products prosperous, but also bringing this uncomfortable weather.

But now the coldness is more due to the fireplace next to it, which is running out of fuel and slowly dying down. The diligent and clever servants have been driven out, and no one is adding fuel.

After only a slight hesitation, he walked to the fireplace, reached out and took out a piece of firewood as thick as his calf from the iron frame that was deliberately spaced a distance away, and gently tossed it into the still burning flames. The excellent design immediately made the firewood blaze, and the suddenly expanded flames illuminated his wrinkled face.

He felt his hands trembling, his heart contracting rapidly in his chest, his facial skin twitching, and his whole body curling up into a ball.

It's not just because of the cold...

Julius stared intently at the firelight. He knew perfectly well why he was doing this, why he was like a paranoid, standing at the window staring at the moon all night long... Ultimately, it was because he was afraid, terrified, and worried, and because of this, he lost his appetite and became exhausted.

He didn't know what the future held for his country.

Even more tragically, his concerns could only be shared by a handful of people; most of the Hels people were completely unaware of what they were facing and had no idea what was going to happen next.

This fear wasn't recent, nor did it arise when he heard that the empire was preparing for war—it was more so on the afternoon he heard that Alperth had fallen. He felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave, his whole body chilled from his fingers to his toes. A kind of panic and a burning anxiety drove him to take immediate action, even abandoning most of his army and rushing over with only the royal guards.

But the result was still a failure... even worse than before. The blood of the Hols people almost stained the walls of Alpert, which they had painstakingly built.

The firelight bathed his face in a golden glow, and as he watched the flickering flames, Julius muttered to himself. He himself didn't know what he was saying; he simply opened his mouth mechanically, letting his tongue move and his vocal cords produce some incomprehensible whispers.

Cough!

The cold glint of swords flashed across the dimly lit room. The sword drawn from the waist streaked through the air like lightning, leaving a bright trail before unleashing a fierce diagonal slash behind.

boom!

What a swift strike! It could have almost cleaved a strong man in two, but now it was firmly blocked by two curved short swords, unable to advance any further.

Julius stepped forward expressionlessly, pressing down with his body. The sudden increase in strength immediately gave him the upper hand, pushing down the opponent's two short curved swords. The sharp blades also dragged down to slash at the opponent's turbaned head. If successful, it would at least cut off half of the face!

呲! !

A piercing metallic scraping sound rang out, and the uninvited guest fell backward, his body contorting into an extreme position, barely dodging the sharp longsword that slid past his eyes. As supple as a willow branch, he sprang up like a snake the instant he fell, his sharp dagger transforming into venomous fangs as he tore at the king's throat.

This attack also failed. Julius simply took a small step back, letting the sharp blade tip glide past him, and the heavy weight on the hilt smashed into his opponent's head. He didn't even blink during the entire process, even though he could clearly see the blue-purple light flashing on the sharp blade.

The hilt counterweight ring and the short sword collided with each other, making a crisp sound. In the end, the short weapon was at a disadvantage. The arm holding the sword almost lost its strength and slashed to the side. The hand holding the sword also flipped its wrist in an instant, making the sharp blade slash at the vulnerable neck at an incredible angle. It looked like the long sword was about to cut off the head!

With a hiss, sparks flew, and the man in black groaned as he retreated rapidly, like a stray dog ​​being chased by someone with a stick, his whole body crouching low.

Julius narrowed his eyes slightly, looking at the sturdy, densely woven chainmail beneath the other person's tattered clothes. His expression shifted slightly as if he realized something, before turning serious.

"You managed to sneak up here while wearing heavy armor... Tell me your purpose, and I'll decide what to do with you based on what you say..."

As soon as he finished speaking, heavy, rapid footsteps sounded outside the door…

234 Collusion (2)

The cold glint of swords always sends chills down one's spine, especially when a drop of almost transparent blood is stained on the blade, which even gleams with a golden hue in the firelight.

The uninvited guest felt a sharp pain on his cheek—in a flash, the king's sword grazed lightly across his turban, as easily as a hot knife through butter, slicing through the fabric and slicing open his cheek.

If he hesitated even a second, half of his face would be sliced ​​off like a rotten apple, and half an eyeball might even be cut off as well... No one could endure that level of excruciating pain without reacting, not even him. He wouldn't even have the chance to speak before the sword slit his throat.

The king of Hols knew exactly how to use his weapon, making him a skilled swordsman... and yet he was completely unaware of this beforehand!

"Use your tongue, you uninvited guest, and try to persuade me to spare your life, as long as what you say is enough to move me."

Julius lightly slashed his longsword downwards, the blood splattering onto the floor with the force of the impact. The blade gleamed as if new, almost reflecting a person's shadow.

A flurry of footsteps sounded from outside. Previously, under the king's orders, the guards who had been away from the house had been alerted and rushed to protect the king, fully armed and ready… and once they stormed in, the man in black would have no chance of escape.

Julius calmly placed his longsword on the ground, his whole body appearing relaxed. The man in black, however, remained stiff, showing no intention of fleeing... or rather, he was well aware of the consequences of exposing his back to the other at such close range.

But this stiffness only lasted for a very short time, somewhat unexpectedly, causing Julius to straighten up again. He watched as the man in black actually reached out and untied his headscarf, removing the long black cloth that covered his face and neck, leaving only his eyes exposed.

The man in front of me had a very distinctive look, the kind of person you would never forget after just one glance—his most striking feature was his high nose, not the kind that gives a good impression, but rather a jarring, comical look, as if a radish had been stuck in it.

His two green, puffy eyes looked like they might pop their eyeballs out at any moment, with reddish corners. His eyebrows were thick and short, and his cheekbones were high and prominent. His cheeks were sunken and thin, without an ounce of extra flesh, giving him a sharp and mean-spirited look. His ears, however, were surprisingly small, almost touching his head. Apart from a vague outline, they looked more like two holes in his head, mostly hidden by his messy brown hair.

In short, this appearance is so utterly repulsive that it's detestable to gods, ghosts, humans, and dogs. It's hard to imagine how a person could grow up to have every feature appear so sharp, mean, and repulsive... Generally speaking, a guy like this appearing here is probably just a clown, there to make people laugh, responsible for livening up the atmosphere and bringing joy to others through his congenital defects.

Julius thought about it carefully and then came to a conclusion with certainty—he had definitely never seen this guy before, otherwise he would definitely remember what he looked like.

“If you weren’t here to perform, then I’d have to have your skin peeled off.”

"Wait, Your Majesty."

The uninvited guest before him deftly moved his facial features, a respectful expression appearing on his face, and bowed.

"I have not come with malicious intent; I am here to reach an agreement with Your Majesty..."

Julius raised an eyebrow. His expression was a half-smile, and even his beard twitched, making him seem not to believe a word.

This is quite normal, of course. After all, how could someone sneak into your room in the middle of the night, wielding a sharp knife and starting a fight with you, be without malice? In fact, under these circumstances, there is no one more malicious than this person dressed like this.

The uninvited guest was clearly aware of this, and quickly explained:

"If Your Majesty hadn't struck first with your sword, we might have already reached a conclusion. As for the unpleasantness that followed... I had to survive in your hands first, and many of my subconscious reactions may have offended you. I sincerely apologize to Your Majesty once again... After all, facing such a skilled swordsman, someone as humble as me dared not hold back in the slightest."

With a bang, the heavy wooden door was pushed open, and the Camuss, armed and wielding armor, filed in. They carried shields in one hand and short weapons in the other, forming a well-trained encirclement. They immediately locked onto the uninvited guest and swiftly began their advance, preparing to capture or kill him.

Faced with such a hopeless situation, the ugly and strange-looking man simply maintained his bowing posture without making a sound, revealing a sense of composure.

"Wait a minute."

Camus and his companions immediately stopped in their tracks, as if someone had pressed the pause button, and a smile instantly appeared on the man's lowered head...

"Find a chair, tie him to it, and then you all go out first."

The man's smile froze slightly, but he quickly straightened his lips and threw away the two dangerous short knives that gleamed with a bluish-purple light without resistance. He allowed the soldiers to search him and, after confirming that there were no dangerous items, they found a sturdy and heavy wooden chair and tied him to it, even securing his ankles with ropes.

After doing all this, the soldiers who had been so aggressive saluted and left in an orderly fashion, leaving only the man and the king in the room once again.

"Tell me, who exactly are you, and what are your plans this time?"

Turning back to the expensive oak table, Julius pulled out the soft chair filled with swan down and slowly settled himself in. Then he looked up at the man opposite him, who was waiting to be killed.

"Please allow me to introduce myself..."