Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

"Hey! Don't be such a spoilsport, doctor. If you can't even drink freely in this world, what's the point of living? Always being so calculating will make life exhausting."

"This isn't a spoilsport, didn't you see that even the adults drank very little? You're the only one among us who's drinking so much..."

263 Gathering and the People of the North (Part 2)

"Go get something to eat. Who drinks like this?"

"...Sir, perhaps I must point out that you haven't been drinking alcohol since the beginning, but rather freshly squeezed grape juice."

Tersolius raised an eyebrow and calmly took another sip of the liquid in his glass. The way he savored it made it easy to mistake it for a fine wine, but it contained no alcohol at all. It was the juice of freshly pressed grapes, with the bitter seeds and skins removed, and a touch of sugar added for flavor.

He savored the sweet and sour taste carefully, and a sly smile appeared on his face:

"Don't grape juice need something else to neutralize it? I don't agree. Go and prepare it for us, Doctor. Everyone will be truly grateful to you."

“That’s right, that’s right! My dear Tarina, don’t forget I want roast meat, the kind of Assale roast meat that’s covered in spices.”

“I’ll go with you, Doctor. I just saw those guys, Kochkin and his gang, fiddling with something. They must be working on something good. I can get some from them and they can help me move things.”

Colin downed the last bit of wine in his glass in one gulp, jumped up from the stool, let out a burp, and hurriedly pulled Talina outside. Meanwhile, Colin, Warif, and the others, who were gathered around a fire pit radiating a faint warmth, suddenly shivered for no apparent reason, as if some misfortune was about to befall them.

………………

Tersolius sipped his grape juice, appearing utterly harmless, but Karila wasn't foolish enough to think that word applied to him. Since their southward march, this man's legions had ravaged a vast territory equivalent to two provinces, bringing fertile fields, fortified cities, and prosperous towns under the empire's control, achieving unimaginable and glorious victories. Even if he did nothing, what enemy would dare to underestimate him? Anyone standing opposite him would tremble with fear and endlessly speculate about his every move.

When his will surges across the land, countless iron hooves will trample enemy soil for him. Every move he makes will stir up the situation of several countries. His authority and glory are unparalleled. Such a person is undoubtedly the strongest of this era, like the sun, just above everyone's head.

Even if he wasn't really thinking about anything and was just spacing out, everyone would subconsciously assign a solemn meaning to all his actions, as if everything he did had a profound purpose, and that every pause and moment of contemplation was about matters of national importance that could lead to the deaths of millions in war or bring honor and wealth to countless others.

...Of course, in most cases this is indeed not a problem.

"Tell me about your hometown, shall we? I've only ever dealt with the Kiel people; I haven't learned about the places further north."

After pondering for a long time, just as Karila was drinking two more glasses of wine, Tersolius suddenly spoke up, causing Karila to scratch her head in confusion, ruffling her golden hair, which shone like gold and shone like the sun.

"Sigh, there's really nothing to say... Anyone who can survive in our land has a worthless life, no matter who they are. If a person's life isn't worthless enough, they'll die very quickly."

Reaching out to scoop another cup of wine from the nearby barrel, Tersolius grabbed the spoon first. He poured the amber liquid into her cup, gesturing for her to continue.

Carila naturally took another swig, then shifted her gaze slightly upwards and began to ponder:

“Our village was among the poorest in the north. In other places, even princes and nobles had warm, large houses to live in. My father, like everyone else in the village, lived in a thatched hut. It was freezing cold in winter. If there wasn’t enough hides, someone would definitely freeze to death. Wood was also very rare there. Most of it was used to repair boats and build houses, and it was impossible to use it for firewood. But fortunately, we could dig out a kind of black stone in the nearby mountains that could be burned in a stove. However, this stone produced poisonous fumes when burned, so we had to keep the door open.”

"We usually eat fish, and a kind of fat dog with short arms and legs and flat limbs that we catch in the north. If we could catch a big bear, that would be even better. But all the people in the village can have a good winter."

"The only vegetarian food is seaweed and kelp harvested from the beach. There are many islands in our area, but like that ice field, there are no good places. You can freeze to death anywhere. You can see the sea everywhere. People usually rely on boats to make a living, so they value their boats more than their own lives."

"If we want to eat some grain or exchange it for some salt, we can only trade with merchants from afar. Those guys are very ruthless and will desperately drive down our prices. We can't even get anything good for several hides."

"So when we couldn't catch any fish, my dad would lead everyone out on a boat to rob things. Sometimes we could get a little, and sometimes we would even lose our lives. But all in all, it was a way to survive when we couldn't make a living."

"I got so bored there, and even fighting wasn't fun. None of those guys were a match for me. So I just told my dad, but I didn't dare tell my mom, otherwise I definitely wouldn't have been able to leave. Then I just went out to make my own way in the world, which was good because it meant one less mouth to feed at home. I kept heading south, and you know what happened next..."

"If I have time in the future, I will definitely go back to visit and let them know how well I'm doing now! I dare say that even the most respectable princes in our area can't compare to one of my toes!"

Tersolius nodded slightly and spoke for a long time. Karila, whose mouth was a little dry, took another sip. Then she heard footsteps coming from the corridor outside. A moment later, the door opened and a strong aroma of spices wafted out, making her subconsciously swallow.

The first thing you see is Colin pushing a small wooden cart, and Talina carrying a plate. The two of them work together to push the cart through the door. Hanging from two iron racks on the cart is an iron skewer with a raw leg of lamb on it, covered with a thick layer of spices. They use a dagger to cut open the fatty parts of the meat to ensure it's well-seasoned.

The Kingdom of Asler had a highly developed maritime trade. The country had a long coastline and countless excellent seaports. The people of the kingdom were always happy to be merchants who sought profit. They opened up sea routes to the far east early on, bringing back all kinds of spices and countless riches.

This luxurious practice of marinating meat with a large amount of spices originated from there. No matter how fishy or pungent the meat is, it will become juicy and delicious when cooked in this way. However, it costs much more than other methods, and only the very wealthy can afford to enjoy it.

These spices were also unearthed from the warehouses of mansions and cities, falling into their hands as spoils of war, so they used them without much reluctance and could occasionally indulge in a little luxury.

"Hey, you guys are finally here! I've been craving it for ages. Let's light the fire and grill it while we eat."

Karila was immediately delighted, and with everyone's help, they quickly lit a charcoal fire on the ground, placed the iron rack on it, and roasted the juicy, tender lamb leg.

"Those guys were indeed secretly preparing something, and they tried to hide it from me. Don't they know that when they make something delicious, they should share some with their boss?!"

Colin smugly lifted the lid of the large iron plate, and a unique sweet aroma wafted out. Inside were strange fruits the size of eggs, with purplish skin and spots on them. They had been thoroughly roasted, and some parts still had a yellowish and charred crispy skin.

"The best way to eat purple tongue is to roast it over a fire. The inside is as soft as cream and slides down your tongue. Your mouth will smell good all day. I didn't expect those guys could actually find this."

Thesolius took one with great interest, then gently broke it open in his hand. With a slight sound as the crisp outer layer was separated, the delicate and smooth inner flesh, as smooth as white jade and milk, appeared before his eyes along with a wisp of steam. Just smelling it gave him an indescribable sense of satisfaction.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before, Tarina. Do you know what it looks like? It looks like some kind of taro.”

"It's somewhat related to taro, but the differences are actually quite significant..."

Tarina had already lit the fire, while Karila, full of energy, began spinning the lamb leg, determined to take on this important task. Only after realizing she seemed to have nothing else to do for the time being did she stand up and answer Attorney Teso:

"This plant is common in the mountainous areas of the southwest. The fruit does not grow from the large underground root, but after pollination, it gradually burrows into the ground along with the stem and grows in the shallow soil. The yield is very small, but the taste is sweet, soft and filling. The locals call it purple tongue or snake tail melon."

"Yes, yes, that's it! This thing can only be found at the end of autumn. It probably burrows into the ground around that time. You can't dig it up at other times."

Colin had already eaten one and was now tearing open the second one, blowing on it forcefully to cool it down as quickly as possible.

"It's best eaten with venison, especially fresh young male venison. Slice it thinly, grill it slowly on a stone slab until it's cooked and dried, sprinkle it with a little salt, and then serve it with this. It would make my old man in the family drool."

"Alright, let's sit down and eat..."

Tersolius blew the dust off his hands, then picked up a second one from the plate:

"This should be our best chance to relax for a long time to come. We're about to get really busy... Oh, and my chief, tell me more about those black rocks and those mountains you just mentioned."

........................

The weeds on the road are being cleared, including the shallow-rooted shrubs which are being uprooted to create neat ground.

Those tree trunks that are deeply embedded in the ground are difficult to clear by manpower. Without strong oxen harnessed to heavy plows, they are simply too difficult to move. The most valuable tree trunks were put into the river long ago and sent downstream, leaving only these very useless wooden stakes.

Generally speaking, after trees are felled, these wooden stakes are usually ignored. After all, these things have limited use except for burning firewood, and it takes a lot of effort to get them out. It would be more practical to use that time and energy to collect some dry wood in the forest.

But now, the workers and slaves are not there to collect firewood; they bear a heavy responsibility—clearing weeds, bushes, roots, and vines, leveling roads, and preparing for the full-scale paving later.

Throughout history, road construction has never been cheap, especially good stone slab roads that are sturdy, smooth, and allow rainwater to flow down from both sides; every meter of such a road is expensive.

If a Holstein nobleman were to build such a road on his own territory, he would fall into a terrible financial crisis, and might even be burdened with heavy debts for a long time to come, leading to a life of hardship and possibly even bankruptcy.

As a result, most of the roads in this country are the most primitive kind, dirt roads worn smooth by the passage of many people over time. Once it rains, they become muddy and difficult to use. The few lords who do build roads for their own territories will use even harsher methods to collect taxes from passing caravans in order to recover their costs as soon as possible. After the merchants are scared away, they will regretfully give up their efforts to continue maintaining their roads. Over time, this has led to the country's terrible traffic situation.

The construction of roads in the empire was quite different. By the standards of the nobles, it could be described as extravagant and wasteful, with investments made almost without regard to cost. Every time a new piece of land was acquired, the roads would be expanded there immediately, like connecting blood vessels to a new limb, to strengthen control over the territory and consolidate their rule.

Pack horses and strong oxen pull heavy plows, breaking through the land and uprooting tree roots that are buried deep in the ground. They clear a wide road through the dense forest, wide enough for a horse-drawn carriage to pass. Others follow quickly to level and compact the ground, and then carefully and neatly lay the road-building materials on top, creating a sturdy and durable road that will hardly have any problems for decades to come, as long as it is not damaged by humans.

Seeing the rapid progress, the person in charge was in a good mood. Even the slaves received fewer beatings and were treated with more leniency on certain issues. And all of this was for…

264 Offensive (1)

Baria breathed heavily, trying to calm himself. Although his fingers were still trembling, he remained calm, gripping his shield and short axe tightly. He supported himself against the swaying wooden wall, listening to the screams, the sounds of fighting, and the whistling of arrows hitting the water-soaked, hard cowhide.

He swayed slightly, then lowered his center of gravity and stood firmly. All around him came the crisp sound of armor plates rubbing together, along with heavy, resonant breathing. Dozens of strong armored warriors were crowded in this small area, each clad in armor and armed with weapons, mostly short weapons and shields for close combat, as well as long halberds and axes for piercing through iron armor.

The honor of being the first to scale the city wall is unparalleled, but it is also a matter of life and death. Today, he has earned himself the opportunity to obtain this honor, even if it means facing the enemy's fiercest counterattacks and targeting.

His courage was commendable even among the Imperial Legion, where warriors were a common sight. After all, this was Baria's first time on the battlefield. Although they had undergone the most rigorous and meticulous training, forging themselves into steel-like toughness, they had not yet truly been tempered on the battlefield. And his first time was to charge towards the enemy's entrenched position on the city wall, plunging into the most brutal fighting.

Although this place is not a tall and majestic city, but only a sturdy castle, and he does not have to face a real hail of guns and densely armored soldiers, it is still not safe at all. What he is about to face is a truly dangerous challenge.

Another tremor ran beneath his feet. He knew it was from the wheels of the siege tower rolling over the potholes. His comrades around him supported each other to make sure no one would fall or lose control due to the tremors. Their breathing was equally heavy, and their weapons were constantly being gripped and released repeatedly. Sweat soaked through their chainmail gloves.

Caledo stood behind him, a halberd resting on his shoulder, his left hand braced against his back, ready to smash the head and tear the throat of any enemy who thought they could easily get close to him.

Another tremor followed, and with their centurion's loud shout, some silently tightened their formation. Suddenly, a wooden plank on Balia's side, already riddled with arrows, shattered. A short, powerful crossbow bolt grazed his face and struck the side of his comrade's helmet with a loud bang, leaving a deep dent in the fine, tough steel. Balia fell to the ground without a sound.

Baria's heart skipped a beat. Their captain quickly crouched down to check on the unfortunate fellow, confirming that the guy was not dead, but had just been knocked unconscious. He then had someone drag him to the back and remove him from the initial assault on the city wall.

This was unfortunate, at least for him... After all, the chance to gain merit among tens of thousands of soldiers is always limited. There are always more elite and resilient warriors than you who can take on the task. Although he was lucky enough not to die from a stray arrow, he undoubtedly lost this precious opportunity.

The terrified shouts and whistling arrows from the city walls suddenly intensified. The archers, with their higher vantage point on the towers, were firing their arrows with all their might, suppressing the enemy defenders on the city walls with concentrated firepower.

The elite mountain archers mixed in were using their superior marksmanship to pick off threatening units on the city walls from their advantageous range. Those soldiers wielding weapons and powerful crossbows were clearly the focus of attention, suppressed by the mountain people's unparalleled accuracy and unable to raise their heads. Any slight opening would result in heavy arrows hitting their faces and armor gaps.

Their centurion has received the message and is beginning his final address:

"Get closer to the city wall now, and all of you, stand firm! Don't be cowards and cower like this. We're here today to gain glory! The ones who should be afraid are these guys hiding on the city wall!"

"For the Empire!"

"For the Empire!!"

Baria roared, his voice muffled and metallic-sharp from inside his helmet, as if a pot of hot water had been poured into his bloodstream. The young soldier suddenly felt his hands and feet burning, his blood surging and flowing through every corner of his body, making him shout involuntarily once more, his eyes shining like obsidian.

"For the Empire!!"

Everyone began to cheer, as if they could already see the victory to come, from Caledo, from Balia, from every soldier who stepped onto the battlefield, from every throat that roared the unified battle cry of the Imperial soldiers:

"For the Empire!!!"

The drawbridge in front of them collapsed heavily, and the steel claws smashed into the battlements. The shields and gleaming spearheads of the Holstein defenders, whose cloaks were stained with blood, were now right in front of them.

The bronze whistle rang out heavily in the centurion's mouth, as if a switch had been flipped, and the Imperial soldiers cheered in unison, fearlessly facing the enemy's swords and spears, surging forward in dense formation, their rolling armor crushing the enemy's resistance in an instant.

………………

The heavy halberd was raised high and then fell heavily! With such a simple movement, the thick halberd blade was deeply embedded in the iron helmet. When it was pulled back, it made a piercing metallic scraping sound and was pulled back with a sticky yellowish-white texture and a lot of blood.

Although the attack was powerful, it also left a significant opening, making him vulnerable to being severely injured in a counterattack from other enemies. However, his front was now firmly protected by his friend, Baria.

The heavy, iron-clad shield blocked the thrusting blade and the slamming hammer. Just like every time he practiced chopping at a wooden stake, he swiftly and precisely cleaved open the enemy's neck muscles with a single swing. As the enemy clutched his neck and collapsed, spraying blood, he slammed the shield into the face of another overly aggressive opponent, denting his nose along with the steel nose guard.

The spear that had pierced from behind the shoulder, splattered with blood, was withdrawn again. The great axe swung to the side dislocated the left shoulder of the Holstein soldier on the right, along with his weapon. Another volley of arrows flew overhead, forcing the resisters in front of them to hastily raise their shields to protect themselves. They were then ambushed and killed, forced to retreat again and give up the city wall tower.

His armor was riddled with wounds, yet remained sturdy and reliable. The most dangerous mark on his helmet was left by an axe; before he severed his opponent's elbow, the axe's armor-piercing spike had already carved a distance into the gap between the pointed helmet and the scalp.

After overcoming the initial unfamiliarity and panic, the training they had received revived in the soldiers. The discipline and martial arts skills that the experienced veterans had etched into their bones through whips and repeated drills began to take effect. Sometimes, even without thinking, they would subconsciously make the right moves. The tacit understanding and strict discipline they had trained in countless battles were now helping them defeat the enemy.

The soldiers roared and fought fiercely, their youthful inexperience gradually fading away. One enemy after another fell before them, the battle line began to advance steadily, and the enemy began to retreat.

The fighting on the city walls is the most direct and bloody, with neither side having room to retreat. Here, the most essential and important things will always be quickly revealed. Those who lack courage will always be the first to retreat, and those with inferior equipment will suffer more casualties, retreat more easily, and fail more easily.

Cheers also came from the distant city walls, where the attackers had made a breakthrough, causing the defending soldiers in front of them to sigh in despair, their morale visibly declining.

Such a golden opportunity was not to be missed. As the centurion's bronze whistle blew once more, the standard-bearers among them simultaneously raised their flags forward. Baria let out a muffled cheer and charged ahead, ramming himself and his shield into the enemy's formation. His comrades, following closely behind, launched the most ferocious and violent offensive, quickly tearing apart the enemy's defenses and leaving them riddled with holes, which in turn shattered their morale.

"Surrender and you'll be spared! Surrender and you'll be spared!!"

As the centurion led the shout, the soldiers immediately followed suit, banging their shields and striking the butts of their weapons against the city wall tiles with a uniform sound. Accompanied by the dense, crisp sound of armor clashing and rubbing against each other, their formation rolled forward at the same moment.

"Surrender and you will be spared death! Drop your weapons and your lives will be spared!"

"Surrender and you will be spared! Throw away your weapons, or you will all die!"

With a vicious upward slash of his short axe, he shattered the jaw of a Holstein officer wearing a feathered headdress. As the man fell to the ground screaming in agony, he stomped heavily on the man's neck, which was protected by chainmail, silencing the screams instantly.

The tip of the halberd pierced the throat, pulling out a shattered trachea as it was withdrawn. With a swift retraction and another strike, it severed the head of a hesitant figure.

The howling victims who fell to the ground in the brutal slaughter were trampled over by one pair of iron boots and soon fell silent. The battle lines were repeatedly torn apart, reassembled, and retreated. The morale of the resisters was rapidly fading away, like a large amount of blood gushing out from a person's slit throat. They became more fearful, more cowardly, and more sluggish at a visible speed.

Someone, I don't know who, was the first to drop their short sword to the ground, making a crisp clanging sound. It should have been inconspicuous in the noisy battlefield, but for some reason, everyone heard it clearly.

A soldier standing in the front row silently dropped the hammer in his hand, then threw away his helmet, raised his hands, and knelt on the ground.

This should have been an act that would have resulted in immediate execution, but it went unpunished. The other soldiers hesitated and remained silent, watching the increasingly imposing Imperial army formation. More and more men threw down their weapons in a terrifying silence, abandoning their armor and weapons and surrendering amidst the shouts of the Imperial soldiers.

........................

The dry, hard biscuits had been baked five times, making them extremely durable for storage but also very hard and difficult to chew. Baria frowned, turned his head to the side, and used his even harder and thicker molars to deal with the thing. Sweat soaked through his hair and trickled down his neck to his collar.

This made his neck uncomfortable, hot and itchy, but he didn't bother to loosen his collar or take off his armor, letting the discomfort continue to spread. He continued to gnaw on the biscuit in his hand, while taking out the blood-stained leather pouch at his waist and drinking the bloody water inside.

Caledo was also exhausted, but he dared not remove his armor casually. Although, in theory, the castle walls had already fallen into their hands and the overall situation was settled, there was no need to continue to maintain a tense and high-pressure posture, they were far from, and dared not, learn that casual attitude. Even while eating and drinking, their attention was always highly focused.

This time, he had a relatively long time to recover his strength, which allowed Baria's aching arms to begin to feel more relaxed. After he finally caught his breath and wiped the sweat from his forehead, he felt that he had almost fully recovered and was ready to pick up his shield and go back into battle at any time.

"I'll rest a little longer. My legs are still a bit weak. I'll wait a bit longer."

His brother, Caledo, was slightly weaker than him and was currently leaning his head out of the tower window, breathing in the fresh air outside... perhaps unaware that the air was filled with the smell of gunpowder and blood, as well as the stench of entrails and the burnt smell of limbs.

"I can't help but applaud you, Barea! You played so beautifully! And you, Kalido, your cover was excellent too!"

Their captain, a middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed mustache, walked over with great interest. Despite having just experienced such a fierce battle, he still seemed completely at ease. He showed no signs of exhaustion, having just been busy arranging for everyone to rest and rotate, and escorting prisoners.

"It's nothing. Everyone did a great job, otherwise we wouldn't be standing here alive."

Barea's honest and earnest words made their captain laugh and pat him on the shoulder.

"But you performed exceptionally well, that's undeniable. To achieve this level in your first battle, and with six heads taken... you might just become a centurion someday!"

"Then you, Captain, are sure to become a general."

Caledo, who was getting some fresh air nearby, turned around and said with a smile, which made their captain's smile even more obvious; he seemed to have been amused by him as well.