Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

"The medicine really worked. This is a lucky thing for you. At least I don't have to break your bones, and you don't have to suffer any more pain."

Two hands gloved in deerskin picked up the flint and steel he had just used. In the darkness, with a slight collision, sparks briefly illuminated a small patch of space, allowing him to clearly see the scratched iron...

The tinder blanket drew him in, followed by the lighting of candles, and the space became bright again. As expected, and with a hint of despair, he saw a figure with an iron face and a half-smile standing at the head of the bed—this was the Imperial Jailer!

These men with iron faces are the wardens of the Imperial Prison, in charge of the guards and all the prisoners... The iron faces symbolize the righteousness and authority of the law.

His teeth were practically chattering—he knew exactly what these guys were capable of, so he had no further doubts about how they had managed to find this place, and simply lamented his bad luck.

You see, these people with such important responsibilities rarely bring prisoners back themselves; it's usually the masked jailers who handle it… He somehow got the good fortune to become the exception… No, no! That's not right, considering he just launched an assassination attempt on General Tersolius…

“That thing in your head is really troublesome, so I deliberately doubled the dosage of the medication… To be honest, that dose would normally cause an ordinary person to have cardiac arrest, so I’m quite surprised that you’re still conscious… I’m very interested in opening up your head myself to study it, but not here.”

A cool, smooth deerskin glove was pressed against his forehead, its tip tipped with sharp steel fingertips, and slid gently upwards. The areas where the fingers touched felt like they were on fire, making him strain his eyes to open them wide.

With a soft rustling sound, bright sunlight streamed in, and two figures wearing bronze masks, one crying and the other laughing, descended from there. They then simultaneously bowed, placing their right hands on their foreheads as a sign of respect to their ruler.

"Tie this gentleman up carefully and take him back. Remember to give him his medication every three hours. Don't let anything happen to our lovely trophy."

A few soft laughs came from under the iron mask. The jailer turned and left without hesitation, while the two copper-masked jailers immediately took out leather ropes and tied him up tightly from head to toe. He couldn't even bend over, as his joints were fixed in place by a tough piece of wood.

"I need to explain the situation to that official. This kind of thing happening in my jurisdiction is really troublesome. Although it's not quite there yet, it should be in about two months."

He shook his head as if in distress, then bent his knees and shot up through the hole as if he had been lifted up, making one wonder if someone had tied a rope around his waist.

………………

"How should I address you as?"

Thesolius smiled as he looked at the masked figure before him, whose wide black robe was embroidered with rich and ornate patterns in gold thread. Beneath the robe was an inner armor made of fine steel wire, and a straight-bladed longsword with a hilt inlaid with jade and tortoiseshell hung at his left waist. His boots had sharp, angular steel toes, and his elbows and fingertips had the same design.

This was a lean and well-built man, very tall, but not particularly broad-shouldered. His hands, feet, and waist were long and powerful, like a young and strong male leopard.

“You may call me Brazil Saiyaros. I am the warden of the Southern Toyacos Prison, responsible for bringing the lands you have conquered completely under His Majesty the Emperor’s control.”

“I should cheer for you, Warden. You did a fantastic job. I thought the mastermind behind this had already escaped, but I never expected you to bring him to me.”

“I am ashamed. This is my duty, yet I allowed the thieves to do such a thing here… Our scouts discovered that place by chance, but we didn’t know who set it up, so we kept a watchful eye on it. This time, we just happened to catch them there.”

“If the city of Toracasi had been fully governed by the Empire, and even had a well-organized official structure, I would now rebuke you for your dereliction of duty and incompetence without hesitation, because then you would have truly failed in your duty… But now, the city was only captured yesterday, and you have already fulfilled your duties so well. What else can I say but praise? This is what you deserve.”

"Honored!"

"Furthermore, I believe that someone as talented as you deserves to shoulder more important responsibilities, and His Majesty would be pleased to know that there is such an outstanding person as you here."

Brazil's Saiyar couldn't help but smile. Tesorus's meaning was straightforward and clear, without any beating around the bush, directly displaying the style of a soldier—which also made him more certain that he should do something.

"If you allow it, I will do my utmost."

Tersolius nodded slightly and sat up from the carved oak chair:

"Let's go see what we've gained this time. Hopefully, he'll know more than the last one."

………………

Almost every city has dungeons. Maintaining order is not just a matter of words, and not all crimes need to be dealt with by swords and axes. Those who have committed crimes but do not deserve to be executed must have a place to be punished, and there are no exceptions anywhere.

Torakasi is a large city, and its dungeons are exceptionally spacious. Constructed with sturdy bluestone slabs, they have been in use for countless years. In some places, the stones have been worn smooth and shiny, and it's unknown how many people have lived there.

However, this place is definitely not an ideal place to live. Rats from who-knows-where always appear in every dark corner. They are all red-eyed, fat and strong, almost the size of kittens, with bare, hairless tails that look like worms and are disgusting. These are beasts that have been gnawing on the flesh of prisoners and tearing at rotting limbs and flesh for years. Their teeth carry terrible putrefactive poison. Once bitten, you will inevitably rot and turn black.

No one wants such a beast near them, but he has no choice now—the stiffness and numbness in his body are still intense. The only thing he can move now is his eyelids, and these thin skin obviously can't stop the rat from coming over and gnawing at his big toe. This process won't be quick because rodents have unique eating habits. They always make full use of their teeth to break down and mash their food bit by bit until the bare bone is exposed, and they will use this hard thing to grind their teeth.

To make matters worse, the wooden frame he was tied to was extremely sturdy and reliable, with leather straps extending from every point to secure the prisoner's limbs. Even his fingers were clamped in special iron clips, rendering him completely unable to use his skills. He could only watch helplessly as the gray-furred, stench-of-death creature drew closer, probing forward with its long, pointed nose. He could even feel the damp, soft beard touching his skin...

258 This concludes the first part (4)

Damn rats, disgusting pests!

He was practically chewing his own tongue and cursing in his heart, but he could only helplessly watch the filthy thing approach his toes, then open its sharp yellow teeth and begin to tear at the callus on his toes. Those teeth, sharp and strong from years of friction, peeled off a layer of callus from his thumb in the blink of an eye.

It seemed that this vicious and disgusting little thing had no intention of being satisfied, but continued to gnaw tirelessly. Before long, he felt a terrible pain coming from his toes in despair. As blood flowed out, the smell of blood excited the rat even more, and its gnawing became faster and more ferocious. It quickly gnawed a hole in his toes, as if it were gnawing on a biscuit.

This would be a horrific form of torture for anyone—to be slowly gnawed away by rats, the pain no less than that of being sliced ​​to death. Or rather, it would be a more brutal form of slow slicing, with smaller, more agonizing wounds, where the victim's screams would continue for days, resulting in a gruesome and unbearable death.

But he couldn't even scream; all he could do was blink his eyes frantically.

He considered himself a being beyond mortals, yet now he was being slowly chewed up and eaten by beasts that ordinary people could crush with a single step. This was a mental torture for him, almost driving him mad. His eyes were wide open, but he couldn't drive away these freaks with his gaze.

The pain in his toes was becoming increasingly intense, and he almost suspected that his bones had been gnawed out. He now somewhat hoped that the imperial jailers would come in and check on him; even enduring their torture would be more dignified than being torn apart and eaten alive by these lowly creatures—dying from torture and being devoured by rats were simply not the same kind of death.

Of course, if these rats were the Imperials' punishment for him... Thinking of this, his mood darkened, and he even temporarily ignored the pain in his toes.

The stench of blood spread, drawing more rats out from the corners, their noses twitching as they scurried across the ground, drawn to the scene and ready to join this rare feast. He could even imagine his fate—when the cell doors opened tomorrow, all that would remain would be a pool of blood and mangled carcasses; a few days later, he would be reduced to bones…

The iron gate's hinges, having been unlubricated for a long time, emitted a sharp, piercing sound when turned. But at that moment, it was like heavenly music to him, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

The rats were startled by the shrill sound and scattered immediately. One even rushed towards the prison gate in its panic, only to be lightly kicked against the wall by a steel-toed boot. After twitching a few times, blood flowed from its thick, pointed mouth, and it died.

"These damned pests can pop up anywhere, even on such solid stone ground... It's the lazybones of the Hols who didn't do their job properly, making this place so damp. Prisoners die exceptionally quickly in this environment, not even surviving a second torture session. They're really bad at their job... Ah, I've rambled on too much. Please come in, sir. It seems our guest has suffered a bit, but compared to the crimes he's committed, this is nothing more than an appetizer."

The jailer, whom I had met once before, walked in first. His voice, though still sharp and dry, carried a strange air of exhilaration, as if he had stumbled upon something wonderful. Behind him stood a tall, distinguished man, dressed in a magnificent black silk robe that seemed out of place in the damp, gloomy environment. His gaze was sharp as a hawk's and majestic as a tiger's, making one unconsciously feel weak and breathless under his gaze.

The man immediately understood—General Tersolius had actually come here in person. This was a perfect opportunity for assassination. The dungeon was narrow and difficult to hide in, but it was spacious enough that there would be no obstacles... if his lovely little ones were still around.

The scar on Tersolius's left eye was very faint, thanks to Talina's skillful treatment and perfect suturing. Whenever he focused his attention on a particular spot, it would become more noticeable due to the movement of his brow muscles, making him appear more dignified and composed, with a sharp, sword-like edge that seemed to want to peel back the layers of the observer and see into the depths of their mind.

"That's interesting. You mean this guy ran for a whole day and night and a whole morning, getting there on foot?"

“That’s right, sir. This guy is quite strange. His physical strength far exceeds that of the strongest man. Ordinary horses can’t run that far, but he can do it on two legs. We found a lot of medicine in that hiding place, but we don’t know the ingredients. Your doctor, Talina, is analyzing it, and we should have results soon.”

"These rats have indeed made some progress, but rats are still rats after all. They only know how to hide in their holes and plot conspiracies, and all they do are dirty tricks."

“It’s not entirely without merit.” Thesolius chuckled, circling the man bound to the wooden frame, then looked down at his big toe, half of which had been gnawed off, and the pool of blood on the ground:

"They are quite capable. I was lucky this time, and I just happened to have someone as talented as Talina. I'm afraid our southern expedition will have to end here."

"Of course, they are indeed cowards. They killed countless people and pieced together countless severed limbs. Only the most vicious people could do such a thing."

………………

The two men talked amongst themselves, completely ignoring the bound man. Far from being angry, he was secretly delighted—waves of warmth were spreading through his limbs, the effects of the drug were about to wear off, and he would soon regain his mobility. Right now, he couldn't be happier that the two men treated him like he was invisible.

First, his fingers. Although he didn't move, he could already feel a real sense of control. Then his toes began to feel more relaxed. Similarly, the pain from being bitten by the rat became more intense, and even his heartbeat quickened.

As a result, his hands, feet, and back began to warm up, and the heavy, numb feeling gradually faded, making him feel increasingly invigorated. Without making a sound, he turned his eyes to the left and looked at the two people who were still talking, seemingly unaware of his presence. Suddenly, his mind began to stir...

He hadn't forgotten his mission. There wouldn't be a better opportunity than this. They were completely unprepared for him, probably thinking that these few leather straps could hold them back, unaware of his own capabilities.

Amidst the crackling of the burning fire, a small black spot on his wrist became noticeably raised, and soon pierced through the skin to form a tiny spike. The spike also had tiny barbs and sharp edges, which gently hooked onto the leather rope binding his wrist, and then slowly tore downwards, like sawing wood, at lightning speed, cutting through most of it in the blink of an eye.

He deliberately left the last small section uncut to prevent the sound of the leather rope snapping from alerting them. Spikes continued to grow from their wrists and ankles, slowly cutting away from their sight.

Just as he was about to complete his action, his heart was pounding most violently, but he still forced his whole body to remain relaxed, as if he still couldn't move.

It was like dancing on the edge of a knife; the slightest mistake would mean certain death. But he continued dancing anyway, determined to give it his all.

Finally, the last leather strap binding him was almost completely severed; it would break with just a little more force. He took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and leaped off the wooden frame…

It wasn't until the cold touch made contact with his neck that the man realized the warden was already standing behind him... He had been so focused on cutting off the restraints on his hands and feet that he thought he could get away with it and hadn't realized this at all.

Before he could make a move, the hand gripping his neck tightened, the steel spikes on the fingers piercing deep into his flesh, making his bones creak. In the next instant, it would pierce his neck and easily tear off large chunks of flesh, just like an eagle's talons gripping a pheasant's neck.

In a flash, those hands didn't break his neck. Instead, they pushed him forward and twisted him backward. This terrifying numbness spread throughout his body, causing him to collapse to the ground before he even landed.

"He's certainly got some skills, but unfortunately he's too slow-witted."

The iron claw was pulled out, its tip bearing a glaring purple hue.

………………

The round, plump owl perched on the wooden frame, hopping about and chirping away, appearing far more active than its kind.

Of course, for its owner, it was definitely not just roughly called an owl, but had a professional scientific name, it's just that Tersoly was used to calling it that.

Tarina was focused intently on what she was doing, wearing white silk gloves on both hands, which shimmered with a soft glow to ensure that no impurities or dirt would interfere.

In the large glass container in front of them, a drop of purple medicine gleamed with an eerie light. A thin, long worm, like a thread, clung to the base and wriggled slightly. It was so small that it would be hard to notice unless you were staring at it intently.

The worm was so tiny that it could easily be mistaken for some kind of flocculent substance floating in a liquid. It had tiny segments that were densely distributed, making one wonder if pulling it would open up all those segments.

Doing anything with something so tiny requires exceptional eyesight and dexterity, but it wasn't a difficult task for Tarina.

A drop of green medicine was accurately placed between the purple medicine drop and the nematode in the glass tube, and it quickly spread out, forming green tendrils like tree roots, reaching out in all directions, and then merging into the purple medicine without any hindrance. The white nematode, however, seemed to have encountered something terrible, convulsing and curling up violently, and began to desperately try to escape.

Tarina's eyes lit up; she already had a guess.

The box contained six bottles of this purple potion with white nematodes inside. Based on the intelligence we obtained, we can deduce...

Using pointed silver tweezers, Tarina gently picked up the still struggling worm, took out her knife, and turned her gaze to the clean-furred rat in the wooden box next to her.

………………

The city had been completely taken over by the Empire. The dull, orderly footsteps could be heard everywhere in the streets and alleys as armored patrol soldiers carried out their duties. On this newly conquered land, they would not easily let their guard down. Any abnormal behavior would be dealt with severely. In just a few days, the city's security had been optimized to an extreme. Not to mention serious crimes such as murder and arson, even petty theft was nowhere to be seen.

The arrival of the Imperials brought about a new order and a new atmosphere. They felt a deep-seated disgust for those who roamed the streets and alleys, did not engage in production, and lived off the blood of others. They considered them the culprits who disrupted the city's order, the most troublesome destabilizing factors, and the breeding ground for evil. They believed that these people would only corrupt the atmosphere, destroy the order, and turn the city into a quagmire of darkness and chaos.

However, guided by this ideology, neither soldiers nor officials could tolerate the sight of such a person walking around on the streets. Once discovered and confirmed, they would immediately put on shackles, arrest him, and send him to work as laborers to repair the city. The towers and city walls destroyed by heavy catapults required a large number of people to clear the rubble and repair the gaps, which was quite a win-win situation for the Empire.

A. Dorothy is a resident of this city. This period of time has been like purgatory for her. She used to live a good life in this city with her man, relying on her bread-making skills. She even built a two-story house in a place far away from the bustling area of ​​the city and dared to have two children... But all of this changed completely two months ago.

She had never seen so many troops gathered in a city. Tents of all sizes were erected in every street and alley. Many unfortunate people were forcibly evicted from their homes, which were occupied by officers and soldiers. Anyone who dared to be negligent could be killed. Many residents who once had homes and businesses here became homeless people on the streets, huddled under the eaves, worrying every day about how to get food the next day so they wouldn't starve to death. They were even more destitute than beggars in the past...

259 Order

Footsteps echoed from the street outside. A troop of armored soldiers passed by the door. Their gleaming swords were so sharp they reflected images. Although no bloodstains were visible, they carried a faint smell of blood and iron. It was hard to imagine how many limbs these weapons had severed and how many lives they had taken…

The presence of such beings right outside one's doorstep is obvious to anyone with a modicum of sense. The best course of action now is to cower in a corner, making no sound, to avoid provoking these menacing soldiers. Conquerors who occupy a city for the first time are always exceptionally brutal. Although things haven't reached that point yet, no one knows when the Imperial general will order his soldiers to plunder and kill at will within the city. That would be a truly devastating catastrophe.

With cities now under military control, these ordinary people have no control over their own fate. They can only lament their misfortune, minimize their travel, and pray that the terrible calamity will not befall them.

As a result, all production activities in the city came to a complete halt. The only good news was that after the original army was killed and driven out, many people were finally able to return to their homes. The Empire had no intention of driving them out yet, so they had no choice but to stay there in fear and unease, at least that way they wouldn't have to encounter those terrifying soldiers on the streets.

"Come here, Doris... Don't peer through the door, or you'll attract their attention."

Her husband, a burly Holstein man, was nervously waving at her from behind the cabinet, his beard unkempt, his eyes bloodshot, and his long, pointed ears twitching anxiously.

“Don’t be so cowardly, Ark… I need to see clearly what these Imperials are up to. If there are any suspicious signs, we can hide in time.”

Compared to her husband, Doris, who was considerably more voluptuous, didn't even tremble when she spoke. She remained motionless, lying in front of the door, observing the street outside through a crack in the door.

Her husband hesitated for a moment, then finally sighed helplessly and cautiously approached:

“I need to talk to you about something… If you feel you’ve observed enough, hurry back inside; the children are waiting there.”

"Okay, okay, you go back first. The two of us are making too much noise."

Doris waved her hand impatiently, shooing her man into the room, and then continued to lie motionless at the door watching.

Everything seemed normal. Squads of soldiers passed by the surrounding streets at regular intervals. They were wary of any movement, and no one doubted their determination to maintain order with their swords. So the surrounding streets were deathly silent, as if the inhabitants had been slaughtered and only a group of bewildered ghosts remained.

She observed for a while and secretly noted down the intervals between the patrols. These were things she might encounter in the future. If these soldiers really intended to break down every door, drag the men and women inside into slavery, and rob them of all their money, then what she knew might save her family from danger at a critical moment.

Just as she was getting to the point and preparing to go back and discuss it with her man, a sudden commotion on the street drew her attention back to the situation.

"Torayu?! What's he doing outside?"

A tall, thin man, pale-faced, fled down the street, tattered rags of his clothes flying everywhere. He ran barefoot on the ground, moving incredibly fast, and in the blink of an eye, he had escaped to the other end of the street, pursued by shouting imperial soldiers.

The scene before my eyes was so sudden, so out of place with the lifeless atmosphere of the street just now, it was like a mad bull had broken into a bakery, making the surrounding streets lively again.

The man fled, breathless, his body far inferior to that of the soldiers. He was only slightly faster because he wasn't wearing armor, but he also seemed to be nearing his limit, only daring not to stop because of his fear of the soldiers behind him.

"Stop right now, you hear me, you bastard!"

The soldiers inside shouted and cursed, but the man only ran faster, his legs moving like the wind in extreme fear. He let out a low, hoarse scream, looking like a terrified goat.

"You fool, unleash the dogs!"

The military dogs, which had been eagerly waiting in the ranks, were released from their collars and immediately darted out like lightning, barking sharply and loudly, their sharp teeth, white as shattered ice, snapping and clenching.

The man's scream reached its peak, extreme fear and despair emanating from his eyes. His hands flailed wildly as if trying to open something, but in reality, he touched nothing...

The military dog ​​easily caught up with him, and then, when it was about two meters away, it slightly curled its limbs and leaped directly at his face, easily pinning the running man to the ground and biting his throat.

A desperate scream escaped his throat. The man dared not look any longer, closed his eyes, and wept, making his already filthy face even more vivid, as if he had just crawled out of the mud.

Even as the footsteps closed in on him, the expected sharp pain in his throat did not come; instead, he felt a chilling sensation as a sharp object pressed against his skin.

After a long while, someone kicked him in the side, and the man opened his eyes in a panic. Then, at very close range, he saw the military dog's shiny black nose and bright eyes, as well as its long snout that disappeared behind his chin...

Realizing that the large dog had its neck in its mouth, the man dared not move. Although he was still whimpering, he was as docile as a frozen corpse.

"Why are you running, you bastard?!"