Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

"Of course not. Look, this arrow still has forging marks on its tail. It wouldn't have these marks when it was cast. I'll be doing business here often in the future. If your arrowhead breaks due to quality issues, you can come back to me anytime. I can not only refund your money, but also compensate you with something."

"Okay, I'll take them all. Wrap them up for me, and then calculate the total."

"Alright, you're a very generous man. Rest assured, this is definitely a good deal... These are worth 10 silver coins in total, plus a free little arrow for shooting rabbits."

"Haha! It's a pleasure doing business with you... Ah, wait a minute, let me count my money, two, six, eight..."

A sudden burst of cheers came from afar. Saratag turned his head in confusion, but instinctively reached for his short sword at his waist. At the same time, he didn't notice that the Asel merchant in front of him was also silently reaching into his own waist, where a beautiful Asel one-handed scimitar lay.

"The letters have arrived! The children's letters have been delivered, come out and get them, hurry up!"

A robust and simple-looking woman rushed past him, and the words she uttered caused an uproar throughout the entire village. Regardless of what they were doing or where they were, the middle-aged and elderly people of the village rushed out in a noisy swarm, catching the vendors outside off guard and causing them to pack up their goods, fearing that they would be lost or damaged in the chaos.

Saratag stood up abruptly, making one wonder if he had a cow's tendon strapped to his back.

"Give the money to your boss."

The Assele man watched the departing villagers thoughtfully, his fingers still on his scimitar, slowly stroking it, polishing a silver-inlaid pattern that resembled many intertwined tentacles until it gleamed.

………………

"...What is being drawn?"

Saratag stared bewildered at the parchment before him, along with the crooked marks on it. He had absolutely no idea what his daughter was trying to convey by sending it back. After much deliberation, he decided to go to town in a couple of days to find a literate person to help him decipher it.

In addition, the money was also sent back in a package, sealed with clay and inlaid with a small wooden plaque. The plaque indicated the unit to which the soldier or officer belonged and the amount of money due, and bore the legion's mark and the markings left by the provinces along the way.

Everyone else received their share, though of course, none of the illiterate villagers could decipher what was written on it. Nevertheless, they saw the messenger off with great enthusiasm, asking if he could take something for them to their children fighting at the front.

After receiving an affirmative answer, they all rushed back to their homes at a speed that most people could never achieve, and then quickly brought back a whole bunch of random things.

"The size of the items being transported cannot exceed twice the standard size of a shipment. Stop causing trouble. I need to go back and report. Hurry up."

The messenger driving the carriage turned pale... If he really brought all this random stuff, there probably wouldn't even be a place for him to sit. So he quickly told the enthusiastic crowd to go back and find what they really needed to bring, and to wrap it up properly.

Saratag scratched his head, feeling like there was nothing he needed to bring, until his fingers accidentally touched the package the other party had given him when he bought things, and then it dawned on him.

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

Although called a legion, the engineering corps was more like a large-scale workers' organization. When the country needed it, it would conscript young and middle-aged laborers and skilled craftsmen from one or several provinces, organize them into teams according to their region, skills, age, and physical condition, provide them with tools uniformly, and send them to a specific area to carry out their work after receiving orders.

They are not required to undertake combat missions, so no one is armored or armed. However, armored and armed soldiers will be responsible for their safety and to ensure that their work is not disturbed, so that they can devote themselves fully to their tasks.

Of course, in an extremely martial empire, even an ordinary laborer would have his own protective weapon, so in some situations, they were a force that could not be ignored.

The engineering legion was not disorganized; on the contrary, it was highly organized. Like an imperial legion that conquers cities, it had a rational division of labor and could be divided into several parts to carry out tasks in turn. This allowed everyone to get rest while ensuring that the progress of the project would not be delayed.

Once the order was given, a total of 20,000 workers and craftsmen from two legions were mobilized. They traveled along the imperial roads that were already being laid, crossed the once insurmountable northern defense line, and arrived at the location of this mission. That very afternoon, they received the blueprints designed by engineers and scholars, and the next day they had already spread out their teams and started construction from both sides to extend the construction line.

Thanks to the relatively flat terrain in the heart of the Hols, they didn't need to cut through mountains and rocks this time. They only needed to clear the shrubs and weeds on the ground, cut down the big trees, and dig out the tree roots to start construction directly. In an instant, dust flew up and the roar was deafening. The startled birds and beasts fled in all directions. The green on the ground was quickly cleared away, and soon piles of soil and rocks were dug out.

Materials for the concrete used to build the canal are being transported here with more and more transport teams. This canal is not a one-off project. The Empire is determined to build it into a sturdy and durable project that can function properly for decades or even centuries to come, so that the traces of their transformation of this land can be left here openly.

Meanwhile, Asele's declaration of war arrived at Tersolius's doorstep, delivered all the way south. The scroll, lavishly decorated, with gold thread inlaid on every edge and meticulous attention to detail—even the central axis carved from a single ivory tusk and flanked by jade—and filled with flattery, platitudes, and overflowing embellishments, prompted a smile to Tersolius. He slowly focused his gaze on the lower right corner of the map, on the rich eastern plains:

"What exactly are the Assele people planning...? How do you intend to deal with me?"

280 Asler's movements (1)

As the sun rises above the horizon, showering its fiery blessings upon this lush land, a tremendous, unstoppable, all-encompassing commotion begins to resound around the city, compelling even the laziest sleepers to emerge from their homes and, in the time leading up to morning prayers, turn their gaze beyond the city to the vast, expansive plains.

The tents stretched as far as the eye could see across the vast plain reserved for the legion, shimmering with various lights and colors in the sunlight. The flags on them fluttered in the wind, displaying the glory of each tribe and family.

The bugles sounded incessantly, and the strong soldiers strained their lungs to the limit, letting the loud and far-reaching sound penetrate every obstacle and clearly pierce the ears of any sleepyhead. They roused themselves from their beds, noisily dressed and armored, grabbed their weapons, packed their belongings, prepared ample food and water, set up their tents, drove their cattle, sheep, camels, and other livestock, and assembled this mighty army of tens of thousands.

Countless banners converged from all directions, each one extremely luxurious, sewn with the finest imperial silk, adorned with tassels and inlaid with red copper, forming a bright, majestic, magnificent, and vibrant lake.

The banner they were gathered in featured the tallest one, adorned with flowing gold tassels of luxurious silk. Embroidered with intricate patterns of fine gold thread, it depicted a roaring lion with its head raised. Though its form was somewhat abstract, it still exuded majesty and ferocity. The entire banner, a patchwork of gold and red, hung high above all the other banners, proclaiming the presence of their commander.

The nobles and chieftains, who held great prestige and high status throughout the kingdom of Asel, gathered under the banner. Each of their banners was lower than the commander's, as a sign of obedience and respect. Everyone held their breath and made no unnecessary noise, waiting for their commander to emerge from the huge golden tent.

Hundreds of guards clad in gleaming golden armor slowly lined up on both sides of the tent, their positions perfectly orderly. They were covered from head to toe in double layers of heavy armor. Even their faces were completely concealed by chainmail visors, with only their eye sockets visible. Silk pennants hung from the spears held in their right hands, while the shields in their left hands were adorned with the glory of their families.

These guards were so silent that, without the occasional rise and fall of their chests and the sound of their breathing, one might even suspect they were statues sculpted from gold and brass. Under the scorching morning sun, even with the sun shining directly into their eyes, they did not waver in the slightest; every joint seemed to have been cast from molten iron.

Despite sharing many similarities with the guards of palaces and temples—wearing the same golden armor, equally solemn and well-trained—these fully armored elites are not temple guards, but rather elite cavalry skilled in riding and tearing through enemy lines—the Afarris.

They are the most elite warriors in the entire Kingdom of Asler, without exception. Every one of them has spent countless amounts of gold to stand here, riding the finest Thoroughbred Turis in the entire Kingdom of Asler, their entire bodies are encased in steel and brass, and even their warhorses are firmly protected by plate chainmail. They can stroll leisurely and charge on horseback amidst a hail of arrows that can cause heavy casualties to ordinary soldiers.

Each of them was born into the country's nobility and chieftains. Their "contribution" to the Shah—to demonstrate their loyalty and contribution to the entire country, as well as their selflessness and generosity—involved sacrificing their sons who could not inherit the noble title, making them members of this glorious army, while also minimizing the possibility of future bloody battles between brothers for status and property.

This matter was often accomplished when their sons were still teenagers. In other words, the future fate of noblemen's sons was often decided when they were young. The smartest, strongest, and most promising among them would inherit their father's status and wealth. The others, although they could live a life of comfort and enjoy wealth, would not be able to sit in that most prestigious position and become a lord.

In contrast, becoming an Alphalis, achieving merit on the battlefield, gaining the favor of the Sand River nobles, and thus acquiring glory, wealth, and power was a fairly good way out for them.

Even if they are of noble birth, the training they undergo after joining Alpharis will not be lenient in the slightest. No one will give them any preferential treatment because of their status. In fact, they will be trained in discipline and martial arts with more cruelty and severity than ordinary soldiers. Injuries and even death are not uncommon in this process.

It is precisely because of this that such powerful knights were created—able to whirl through the desert like a whirlwind, scattering javelins like raindrops, causing devastating losses to the enemy, and then picking up their lances and shields to tear apart the enemy's formation with a fierce and ruthless charge.

They are among the most elite members of the entire kingdom's army, bearing the noble and illustrious Fallis Falcon Banner, and also serving as the royal army commander's guard.

In the oppressive and heavy wait, the golden tent door was finally slowly lifted, and a tall and powerful figure walked out. The brass armor plates covering his shoulders shimmered with gold, and the helmet he held at his waist was adorned with a bronze lion. The gleaming scales of his armor reached down to his calves, and a bright desert leopard pelt was wrapped around his shoulders. Even the jacket he wore underneath was made of silk.

When he appeared in the sun, he blocked a large portion of the bright sunlight, casting a shadow behind him. The turban on his forehead was embroidered with golden patterns, his thick beard was trimmed, his deep-set eyes gleamed with gold, and his thick neck was covered with chainmail.

This was a man like a lion—not only in terms of his profound majesty and imposing presence, but also in terms of his appearance. His thick hair and bushy beard formed a continuous mass, like a real lion, obscuring the back of his head and chin, making him appear majestic and distinguished.

In the kingdom of Asel, this was the most admirable appearance for a man. A beard was the most dignified and respectable symbol that the Creator had created for men. A dignified and moral Asel man should protect his beard. Shaving off one's beard was even considered a form of punishment in some places... that is, the criminal had lost the right to be a man.

This is in stark contrast to the Empire, which emphasized practicality and encouraged soldiers and men to shave their beards to make it easier to wear helmets and chainmail. A thick beard not only traps dirt and grime, but also makes it difficult to treat wounds and hinders medical treatment. It is also not conducive to maintaining cleanliness.

"My esteemed lords, I believe you have no doubts about our purpose."

The tall and imposing man spoke slowly, and the nobles and clan leaders gathered in the arena maintained their respect and silence. On their magnificent armor, adorned with gold and silver, the sunlight danced and refracted, illuminating the place with a radiant glow.

“I will become your commander, I will become your general, and I will lead you into a war, a war that is destined to be grand and will be recorded in the annals of our kingdom! I believe that every one of you agrees with this, which is why you have placed this unparalleled honor and responsibility in my hands.”

"Therefore, here I ask you, in the name of the Lord, in the name of the noble Shah, to swear an oath—that you will obey my commands in the war, and advance and retreat according to my will! Otherwise, I cannot bear such a heavy responsibility."

This was the usual procedure whenever the army was mobilized. The lords, nobles, and clan chiefs were all used to it. They all knelt down, raised their flags high and tilted them forward, and made their own oaths—promising to completely obey the commander's orders in this war and never to do anything foolish or presumptuous.

"I believe in your honor and dignity. Now, please go back and prepare. Tomorrow morning, before the sun has even risen, we will set off, cross the Qilisas Mountains, and head north to the land of the Hols to fight alongside them against the Imperial army. I, Samir Mustafa of the Asad family, promise you victory and glory!!"

"Long live the glory!"

"Let's fight our way north!!"

"Cut off the heads of those barbarians!!"

Cheers erupted and quickly spread outwards, inspiring tens of thousands of soldiers to join in. Even their camels, cattle, and sheep neighed and cried out.

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

The city's inhabitants chatted excitedly, and the merchants of Asel were always well-informed. For them, wealth was generated through repeated exchanges of goods, so if one was not quick-witted, not resourceful, and did not know how to drive their caravans to acquire more wealth, hoping for a windfall, they would remain poor their entire lives.

Therefore, they often pay great attention to acquiring intelligence, whether it is commercial or political intelligence, and they will do everything they can to obtain it, and this information will quickly spread in various cities.

The conflict between Assele and the Empire was already known to most people. This powerful northern nation often meant prosperous and fertile lands, well-ordered cities, and dazzling silks and high-quality goods to Assele. Many merchants filled their pockets with gold coins by trading with the Empire and had a good impression of that prosperous and powerful country. After all, no one would dislike a place where they could make money.

However, thanks to the natural defenses of the Kingdom of Hols, which served as a buffer to the north, the army of the Kingdom of Asel had never directly confronted the Empire's renowned and powerful legions, and the successive Shahs of the Kingdom had never intended to harm this aggressive nation.

Many merchants dislike war. For them, war means they can no longer acquire wealth through caravans, nor can they ensure the smooth flow of trade routes and the arrival of goods. But for another group of merchants, war is a golden opportunity to plunder gold coins and slaves, sell grain to generals, and buy slaves from the army. In short, as long as you are bold enough, there is plenty of money to be made.

Near the port, a large ship was waiting to depart. Its cargo was long-staple wool, a specialty of Asler, and it was already fully loaded. It was ready to be sent to Asler in the east. Everything was in place, except that the ship's purchasing officer was still contacting merchants to buy the necessary food and water.

Since it was still early, no one was in a hurry. The sailors continued to sit on the gunwales chatting casually, waiting for the cured meat, olives, and spirits they needed to buy to arrive so they could load them onto the ship and set sail.

As the sun and sky slowly turned, the army in the camp outside became increasingly noisy. Everyone was packing their things. The departure of such a large army was extremely complicated. Not only did they have to prepare enough food and fodder, but they also had to arrange the subsequent supply routes and deal with all sorts of other odds and ends. This kept the various lords extremely busy.

Once the wagons were driven to the port and their cargo was unloaded piece by piece, the sailors and workers immediately got to work, using high ramps to transport the cargo onto the large ships to ensure the safety of the long voyage ahead.

The purchasing officer also returned to the ship. He was a thin young man with the bronze skin common to the Asel people, and short, slightly curly hair. He wore a green robe, a leather belt around his waist, and boots that were worn for a long time, showing signs of wear in many places.

As soon as he boarded the ship, he went straight to the captain. The two exchanged a knowing glance, then turned and climbed onto the platform at the stern of the ship, leaving everything else to the first mate.

"It's all sorted out, they're leaving tomorrow."

The purchasing officer, facing the sea, uttered a single, barely audible sentence, so soft it was almost inaudible that one might mistake it for the sound of the wind.

"Have you figured out which path to take?"

"It's all figured out. It's all written here. Take Route 4 and don't get noticed."

A small roll of paper fell from between his fingers and was caught steadily in mid-air by the captain's outstretched hand. Then, with a quick retraction of his fingers, it slipped back into his sleeve.

"I will continue to wait here and have the Eagle Division retrieve information every two weeks."

After speaking, the purchasing officer laughed heartily, patted the captain on the shoulder, and the two exchanged a few more pleasantries before parting ways. The purchasing officer disembarked and left the ship, boarding a carriage and quickly departing from the port.

The large ship was quickly prepared, and amidst the sailors' calls, its long oars rose and fell, stirring the seawater, as it sailed out to sea.

281 Asseller's movements (2)

The heavy thud of the armor plates echoed, and the guards at the tent entrance sheathed their spears and respectfully stepped aside, allowing the newcomer to enter without hindrance. The frost on the armor plates was dispelled by the warmth of the tent.

"Father, why did you call me here?"

A remarkably clear and melodious voice suddenly rang out here. It was sudden because it was clearly the voice of a woman. Women were rarely seen in military camps, let alone a woman in armor and carrying weapons.

In the warm firelight, a woman who could be described as beautiful by any standard, covered in golden scales, stood tall and looked at Samir, who was as tall as a lion or tiger, with an air of pride.

Samir turned to look at his daughter, a hint of warmth appearing in his eyes, and his expression softening considerably.

"Please sit down, Alva. I've had some food prepared for you. I bet you haven't had dinner yet."

The woman removed her helmet, revealing a head of beautiful, medium-length black hair tied at the ends with gold thread. A few strands of hair on her forehead were damp with sweat. Her slightly dark skin was as smooth as silk, and her eyes were bright and beautiful, with a slight darkening around the eye sockets—a makeup done in the desert to prevent the strong light from blinding her.

Turning around, he sat down on the thick blanket. The stove next to him was warm and cozy. On the table were roast meat and hot soup, a whole roasted lamb leg, crispy fried fish, dates in small dishes, dried fruit and candied fruit, and a crispy flatbread made with flour, mutton fat and scallions.

These things would be considered ordinary on ordinary days, but being able to eat them during a march was considered extremely lavish, so Alva was not in a hurry to ask his father. Instead, he picked up the silver fork next to him and began to eat the meat.

"How's your reconnaissance going? How are their preparations?"

Samir finally spoke as he watched his daughter cleanly trim the meat off the entire leg of lamb and eat the fish, his left hand still tugging at his beard.

"It's almost done, although it's a bit chaotic - after all, we haven't done such a large-scale troop movement in many years. The last time was when we fought the Asri, and we won a very bad battle, losing almost half of our fleet."

"Let it be chaotic, as long as they still listen to me and get moving. Tomorrow will be the same. You will lead a few thousand people to the front of the line. This time, we have a long way to go."

Alva stopped talking and started eating the crispy bread, dipping it in the soup. A while later, just when Samir thought his daughter had nothing more to say, he saw her suddenly become serious.

"Father, mobilizing a large army must have a clear objective. What exactly can we gain this time? Why would we choose to conquer half of the tribes and lords of a nation? Is it merely to prevent the imperialists from spreading their iron hooves across our land?"

“I knew I couldn’t hide it from you…” Samir smiled helplessly, then turned to his personal guards and nodded slightly. The guards in golden scales tactfully closed the tent door, isolating the place from the outside world.

"Come on, look here."

A whole parchment map was slowly unfurled on the ground, and under their feet lay soft, thick carpets woven from the finest wool, embroidered with gorgeous patterns, and dyed in vibrant colors, so that the nobles of Asel could sit on the carpets and enjoy their meals regardless of the season, without worrying about the cold.

Samir's rough fingers moved slowly, from their most important eastern plains upwards, through the port city of Baros beside the Us Sea, across the beautiful Ross Mountains between the two countries, and finally stopped in the valley located in the lower right corner of the Kingdom of Hols.

"Isn't this the southeast valley?"

"That's right, it's the Southeast Valley."

Samir squinted his eyes:

"This is the reward we can get. The king of Hols has given up everything. According to the letter he sent to the Shah, if we can send troops to help him, all the lands and cities that our army passes through will come under the banner of Asel."

"Does he mean to cede his territory to us? Isn't he afraid that we and the empire will divide their land among ourselves?"

Alva stared in shock... This didn't seem like a condition at all; it was more like a surrender clause, like a wealthy merchant handing over the keys to his treasure vault to a powerful neighbor, telling him that whatever he could take was his...

"His country is about to fall, what is there to be afraid of? Besides, we will not allow his country to fall like this. That would expose our northern oasis to the empire's sword, which would be detrimental to us. If we really don't send troops, these lands will fall into the empire's hands sooner or later, and he will have even less to worry about."

"His goal is just to lure us into action, to provide more security... To put it bluntly, the situation is not good for us now. Those guys from Usman have been causing trouble for too long. Thanks to them, the Imperials have now advanced into the heart of Hols, and even the transportation hub Toracasi has fallen. We don't have many options left, so we can only take action for now."

"Moreover, we are determined to take the Southeast Valley. Once we take it, we can advance or retreat as needed, and we will have more room to deal with that terrible neighbor that may appear in our north."

Samir slowly put away the parchment, his eyes deep and thoughtful.

"This won't be an easy battle, especially on unfamiliar land..."

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

The hammer swung down heavily and struck the steel wedge precisely, causing the sturdy metal structure to drill a little deeper.

These steel wedges are lined up in a row, with equal intervals, and heavy iron hammers are used to hammer them into the stone one after another until they are driven in deep enough. The solid rock will be forcibly pried open, splitting from the hole to both sides, directly into two neat halves, and then collapse with a roar, rolling down into the excavated riverbed amidst the foreman's shouts.

Dust and smoke filled the air. The once lush forest had been completely cut down long ago, and the remaining tree roots were dug out of the ground by strong oxen pulling heavy plows. They were thrown aside with the damp soil, waiting for the sun to dry so they could become excellent firewood.

Tree roots are much more heat-resistant than tree trunks, but they also dry much more slowly. Moreover, because their grain is intricate and difficult to split, even a strong lumberjack will find it extremely difficult.

Another cheer came from afar. A boulder bigger than an ox was pried out by the workers working together and rolled into the riverbed. Soon someone would break the boulder and pave the area, clearing it completely to ensure that nothing would block large ships after the river was cleared.