Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

But this bought him very little time. Realizing that the prey still had the power to resist, the wolf pack immediately changed their strategy. Several strong male wolves approached together with the alpha wolf, preparing to attack simultaneously, pull him out and tear him apart.

This was it—the boy immediately realized this was his death sentence. Such perfect teamwork meant even a strong, adult man couldn't escape in this situation, let alone a mere boy like him…

With a howl from the alpha wolf, the other wolves received the command at the same time. Their sharp fangs gleamed white in the snow as they tore at his calves and wrists. The alpha wolf leaped up from the snow and fiercely bit at his throat, ready to succeed in an instant.

He gritted his teeth and forced his eyes wide open. At that moment, time seemed to slow down. He fearlessly raised the knife in his hand and thrust it downwards—he was practically offering his chest and abdomen to the hungry wolf to tear at, all for the sake of piercing the alpha wolf's head from above.

"Crack!!"

The hard steel pierced the bright eye, penetrating flesh, eyeball, nerves, lymph nodes, bones, and fur, emerging from the alpha wolf's jaw. Drops of blood splattered from the gaps in the flesh... but he had only stabbed a corpse.

Before that, a hail of arrows rained down like locusts, turning the three charging wolves into pincushions in the blink of an eye. The other wolves scattered and fled in disarray, leaving only a mess of paw prints on the snow in the blink of an eye.

The boy stared blankly at the wolf's carcass, not even drawing his knife, foolishly cradling the wolf's head. Finally realizing the arrows had come from ahead, he slowly raised his head—

Several horsemen, bows still in their hands, their fox-fur hats fluttering in the night wind, paced impatiently down the hillside, their warhorses puffing out white breaths.

He froze like a statue, but the riders opposite him simply rode over slowly and began to skin the wolves with knives—even though the skins already had many holes, they were not entirely useless.

The riders paid no attention to him, as if they had only killed the wolves for their pelts. This made him secretly relieved. He cautiously drew his knife and retreated... The so-called hole was very shallow, not even big enough to fit a second person. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been standing at the entrance, risking his life.

Whether it was wolf skin or wolf meat, these people had no intention of wasting it. After quickly processing it, they placed it on the horse's back, then silently mounted their horses, as quiet as a few dead men.

Just as they were about to leave, the man in the lead suddenly turned to look at the boy:

"Which tribe are you from? Are you the only man left in the tent?"

The boy swallowed hard, ultimately daring not to refuse to answer.

“It’s from Saqito. I’m the only one left in the tent. Basa (my father) went south a few years ago and never came back. I heard that the imperial people cut off his head and took our last horse with them.”

The man nodded, then suddenly his brow furrowed:

"Do you want to be a soldier? A soldier who can get enough to eat?"

"To have enough to eat? Of course I want to!"

Without any hesitation, he gave the answer almost instinctively, his entire being radiating a yearning for this wish, even his hands and feet trembling.

"As long as my mother and I can have enough to eat, I'll even lick your boots! We'll be your slaves, as long as we have enough to eat..."

The hunger in his stomach began to torment him again. The heart he had just eaten seemed to have played its last role and could no longer satisfy him. The hunger that had haunted him since childhood, like a maggot clinging to his bone, was making a comeback.

"I don't need you to lick my boots..."

Toridu glanced at the boy again, then suddenly reached behind the saddle, pulled out a short bow, and threw it at him.

"Take this bow. If you want to be a warrior and have enough to eat, come to the Khan's tent and prove to me that you are worthy of holding this bow and are a brave man. Otherwise, I will cut your throat and take the bow back."

No one spoke, only the snow dust kicked up by the galloping horses' hooves. The boy left behind picked up the bow from the ground, stroked the finely crafted bow arm wrapped in birch bark, and slowly tightened his grip on the cork handle.

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

"Come and see! This stove is sturdy and warm. Just put some charcoal in, and it'll keep your tent warm all day!! Nobody wants to freeze to death, right? Now you can get a new tent for just three wolf pelts!!"

"Arrows forged from hard steel! Piercing cowhide is like piercing paper! One fox pelt for three, one fox pelt for three, only the finest fox pelts!!"

"Salt that's salty enough! Absolutely nothing added!"

"Top-quality tea! A whole brick of it, enough to last all winter! I'd trade any lean sheep for the best!"

…………

Before me lay a bustling market, a scene of immense prosperity. Many well-dressed merchants were setting up their stalls, most of them with pale yellow hair, fair but rough skin, blue-gray or grass-green eyes, and wide-brimmed hats. They looked completely different from the Kiel people who lived here.

These were merchants from Western countries who brought in invaluable supplies for the Kiel people living in the harsh north through various means. Although the prices were high, they were still very popular and would elicit cheers from any tribe.

Although most of them were arrogant and the trading process was not exactly fair, it was still acceptable for people who were extremely short of certain supplies. Moreover, since they were friends declared by the Khan, no one dared to harm them.

Tolidu arrived here with his harvest. The tents stretched all the way to the foot of the distant mountains, all made of thick, warm wool felt. Clearly, the herders living here are wealthy in some way, which is why they can live so comfortably and decently.

Along the way, people would always bow to him when they saw him, but Tori was no longer the spirited man he once was. Now, he had a dull feeling no matter what he did... especially when he passed through this area and saw the tents on the side of the mountain.

Compared to these sturdy and warm wool felt tents, that other tent looked particularly dilapidated, making one wonder if most of them would collapse in a gust of cold wind. Living inside would undoubtedly be freezing, and rats and insects could easily invade and breed inside.

...And that was the place where his people, his tribe, lived. Those people, as destitute as beggars, with hardly any livestock, were his people.

He glanced at it once and dared not look again, afraid that he would be overwhelmed by terrible negative emotions. He hurriedly turned his horse around and headed down the mountain towards the magnificent camp made up of five tents, with a drawn bow and a crossed scimitar on the flagpole.

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

This is a strong man.

No matter who it is, everyone will have this impression when they first see him, and it will be deeply engraved in their minds from then on, difficult to change or forget.

Warm, thick cotton fabric was sewn onto the outside of the wolf skin. The man's clothes were covered with gorgeous patterns, and one could easily make out several familiar birds, beasts, and flowers. They made his already broad-shouldered and thick-chested body look like a bear.

He wasn't tall, but he was extremely muscular, with a tendency to grow horizontally. The muscles in his face were as hard and square as rocks, and with his messy beard and hair, his head really looked like a square stone overgrown with weeds.

A crown made of gold, jade, rubies, pearls, agates, and other precious jewels was placed on his head. It looked so magnificent that it seemed to be shining, but it didn't match his messy, rough head at all. It was like putting a woven wreath on a pile of dung, which always looked out of place.

In addition, his sturdy boots, made of thick cowhide, were embroidered with colorful patterns, his belt was inlaid with gold plates and gemstones, and even his scabbard was inlaid with pearls and jade... Overall, this man looked both powerful and exuded a very rigid sense of wealth.

This is the Khan of the Kiel, the man who stepped forward to lead the Kiel after the old Khan was beheaded by the Empire. At this moment, he is eating roasted mutton and drinking warm wine, served by two beautiful women, sitting on a soft sheepskin blanket and enjoying the warmth of the charcoal fire.

Torid was only allowed to enter alone, and even before entering, his dagger and scimitar were taken away—the Khan's treasured sword was now hanging on the tent post behind the man, which he had offered up to curry favor with him.

"Ah, my good Toda (brother)! The cold wind outside looks like it has chilled your bones. Come here and warm yourself up. I've just learned how to make a charcoal fire. I'll have the servants bring you some meat soup."

The other person seemed to only notice him now, and greeted him with a rather enthusiastic attitude, inviting him to sit down next to him, but still embracing and stroking the two beautiful women.

Tori hesitated for only a fleeting moment before a smile immediately appeared on his face, a smile so warm and sincere… even more sincere than when he saw his father, who had been dead for over a decade.

"Haha, my dear brother, your enthusiasm always overwhelms me, and it's almost making me anxious."

The two men had very warm smiles on their faces. After exchanging a few words, a servant brought over steaming hot mutton soup. A leg of roasted lamb, which was spinning on the charcoal fire, was also cut off and placed in front of him, with the juices from the meat seeping into the wooden plate.

Add to that a cup of freshly poured, still steaming, fine wine from a silver pot… Just looking at these things made his stomach rumble, and the fatigue and hunger accumulated from two days of travel suddenly exploded. Under the other person’s meaningful gaze, he began to eat without any hesitation.

He tore off large, juicy pieces of the roasted, golden-brown lamb leg, dipped them in a sauce made with chive blossoms and salt, and chewed them, the juices wetting his mustache.

He then downed most of a bowl of broth in one gulp, savoring the powdery texture of the plant roots and stems, feeling the warmth spreading through his limbs. As he pulled open his robe, he also picked up his wine glass and downed it in one go. Only then did he let out a long sigh of relief, his whole body relaxing.

"Pour more wine for my brother! You lackeys have no brains whatsoever, you're all incredibly stupid!"

Tori didn't refuse at all, and watched as the servant filled the wine glass, then drank half of it in one gulp.

"Keep eating, my brother. Once you've eaten and drunk your fill, I have something to discuss with you."

Sure enough—he showed no surprise whatsoever, continuing to drink and eat meat with a friendly smile, tearing strips of meat from the bone with his fingers, popping them into his mouth as he chewed, the juices splashing everywhere, before gulping them down with hot wine.

"Please speak. I'm a dog with a big appetite. No matter how much I talk, it won't stop me from eating. Don't waste your time."

The Khan opposite him narrowed his eyes slightly, waved his hand to dismiss the two women, and then lowered his voice slightly to speak:

"I heard you fought against that Tersolius..."

304 Western Countries and the North (1)

"A bunch of damn lunatics!..."

A whisper that could almost be called a curse crept out of Torid's throat, but it did nothing to affect the smile on his lips. He still looked cheerful and conveyed a friendly and harmless message.

But his mind was filled with a tremendous sense of surprise, absurdity, and anger, and even his ability to think was momentarily suppressed; he could hardly believe what he was hearing.

He almost felt a sense of superiority over his own intelligence… What he had just heard was absurd and laughable, full of arrogant and self-righteous stupidity, and that self-righteous plan—God above, were they really serious?! Or were they putting on a show for him?

In silence, surrounded by his entourage, Torid left the vicinity of the Khan's tent, passing through mountain ridges and sturdy, warm tents, past respectable herders, and finally plunged into his own dilapidated camp.

Leading thirteen tribes on a migration was no easy task, but fortunately he had made a proper plan in advance—taking advantage of the fact that the northern mountains had not yet frozen over, he drove cattle and sheep to pull carts during the relatively warm season, leading a large group of warriors and organizing several thousand men... to escape in time before the imperial people extended their swords to the north.

This is a feat unimaginable for a coward without perseverance and courage, yet he accomplished it, and without too many casualties in the process, successfully reaching the north where the Kiel people live.

Having grown up on the grasslands, Tori knew one thing very well—what kept his neighbors at bay was never friendship, but the knife in his hand. As long as you held a sharp scimitar, they wouldn't dare covet your cattle and sheep… This principle also applied when visiting someone else's land.

As long as he still controls those men wielding swords and bows, for the Khan of this place, using force to coerce him is not a worthwhile deal... After all, although he and his people from the east are no match for the Kiel, they will definitely have to pay a heavy price if they want to conquer him.

In this situation, by actively expressing one's intention to pledge allegiance and submission to the other party, one can gain the most leeway... After all, a wolf willing to hunt for you can always turn into a dog, and forcibly strangling Piso around its neck might result in having its arm torn off.

Even so, he remained unperturbed—there was no shortage of land here, vast tracts of uninhabited land were everywhere, but apart from land, there was basically nothing else lacking…

Almost every year there is a white disaster, big or small. A blizzard can cover the entire grassland overnight. At the worst time, cattle and sheep will freeze to death one after another. Without these things to live on, people will also die... Here, human life is cheaper than grass. A tribe may be reduced to only a few people after a white disaster. They live both fragile and tenaciously.

His men had never been to such a harsh place before, and almost all of them complained bitterly—especially after the snowfall in the past two days, even the grasslands were covered with a hard layer of snow, and if they wanted the cattle and sheep to graze, they had to bring in a large herd of horses to trample it over the ground…

This was something they had never encountered in the East before. Although the land there was barren, it had never experienced such a harsh climate. Everything here seemed to be working against them, making it difficult for them to survive.

Winter had just begun, and many of the tribes that had come with him were already considering retreating—the cold here made them miss their relatively lush and fertile homeland even more, to the point that it was almost unbearable.

After all, everything is subject to comparison... Back then, they were afraid of the empire's cruel methods and followed the Khan from the eastern grasslands to this place, fearing retaliation and oppression, and living a hard life... But now they are living under someone else's roof, and their hard life is no less, and it is much more difficult than before.

Tori knew perfectly well what this meant—without the support of his people, he was nothing, even lower than a toothless old dog… Coupled with the incoherent ramblings and subtle pressure from the Kiel Khan and the weasel-like Westerner, he was now in a life-or-death situation, and the slightest misstep would lead to utter ruin.

His strong fingers slowly reached for the curved sword at his waist, and a strange light gleamed in his bright, sharp, wolf-like eyes. Something dangerous and sensitive began to awaken within him.

Even if he's no longer a Khan, even if he's just an old dog, he still has a mouthful of sharp teeth... If he's really pushed to the limit, those teeth should find a chance to gnaw on some meat, shouldn't they?

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

The harsh winter cold was no exception for the port. The port of Skjold was covered in a layer of white snow. The cold weather made it impossible for the city guards to grip their spears tightly. They shivered and put their hands inside their clothes to warm them, complaining about the damned weather.

The stone-paved road was extremely dangerous today—the morning fog from the sea collided with the winter chill, covering the entire western part of the city with a layer of ice. Not to mention two-legged people walking on it, even four-legged horses would slip on it. They had to spread ash mixed with coal ash on it to make it barely passable, but people still fell from time to time.

Some unlucky people might even break their arms or legs as a result, and they would have to find someone to set their bones in order to avoid becoming disabled. Therefore, most people would choose to stay indoors in such awful weather, at least the house, though cold and damp, would prevent them from breaking a few bones.

Even in this weather, the number of ships at the port did not decrease much, and workers were still unloading cargo there. Huge draft horses with rough, thick winter coats pulled carriages in and out. The coachmen behind the horses wrapped themselves in fur and cotton cloth, and the force of their whips was weakened. When they hit the thick coats, they could only kick up a cloud of dust.

There were few pedestrians on the street, but some people always attracted attention—three or four burly men walked slowly down the street, each with a variety of weapons hanging from their waists. Swords, knives, axes, and hammers were all attached to iron rings with leather straps. Although they looked haphazard, they were very convenient to use and could be grasped in the blink of an eye.

Compared to their weapons, their protective gear was much simpler. Only the burly man with a full beard at the head wore a chainmail with a lamellar vest over it. Most of the others wore padded armor with a simple leather armor or a vest-style lamellar chainmail. Everyone had a helmet, but the quality varied greatly. The worst one looked like he had an iron bowl on his head, which didn't even protect the back of his head.

It would be unimaginable in the Empire for a group of armed and armored personnel to walk so casually down the street—there, within minutes a large group of soldiers would come up to question them, and if they couldn't produce proper official proof, they would be taken down and imprisoned in an instant.

But here, neither the soldiers on guard nor the passing citizens paid much attention to them, as if these guys who looked like they were not to be trifled with were just a group of ordinary passersby... In fact, that was pretty much the case—they were all mercenaries.

Mercenaries are a common sight throughout the Western countries, where eleven kingdoms and duchies of varying sizes exist. They frequently clash with each other for various reasons, often resorting to war to resolve their conflicts.

Under normal circumstances, the cost of maintaining a standing army is beyond the reach of any single country; it would drain every gold coin and grain of food that lords and kings had plundered from the common people.

In comparison, hiring an army with money when needed and settling their wages periodically is undoubtedly much more cost-effective. Moreover, as long as you are willing to pay, you can quickly recruit experienced soldiers, which is much easier than training and preparing yourself. You may not even be able to defeat those hired by others—after all, that's how mercenaries make a living.

This is why mercenaries are very common here. Sometimes wars are even fought entirely by mercenaries, without any involvement of the lord's army. Mercenaries will also abandon their employers without hesitation when the employers cannot pay them. Sometimes a mercenary who has fought for one army in the morning will run to the other side in the afternoon because he has not received his pay and will fight his former comrades without hesitation.

Young people in both rural and urban areas also favor this profession—it's lucrative and filled with the swords and battles that young men crave. They often only see the famous mercenary groups that rise to the top, making a fortune every day, while ignoring those who fail to make it and die tragically on the battlefield, rotting into mud, with no one even to collect their bodies.

This port city is a hotbed for mercenaries. Merchant caravans and ships coming and going always need to hire guards for themselves, and lords and kings who have agreed on prices also need a quick and convenient way to send their hired soldiers to the battlefield. In this era, nothing is more cost-effective and efficient for transporting soldiers in large numbers than large ships sailing at sea.

This place is teeming with mercenaries and mercenary brokers... The latter are relatively rare, and they often handle large-scale deals, responsible for hiring large numbers of nobles in need. They are indispensable in every war, just like the lubricant on a carriage axle.

The group of four or five made their way through the sparsely populated streets and finally arrived at their destination—a tavern with a sign depicting mermaids entwined with wine bottles. From the sealed windows came bursts of noise, the clinking of beer glasses and the faint strains of a bard’s song.

The sound only fueled their desire, and as the leader pushed open the tavern door, the others filed in, their heads disappearing into the stench of sweat, alcohol, and the scorching heat of the fire.

This place is a mixed bag, with all sorts of people. You can spot several vendors, drunkards, and prostitutes at a glance. If someone gets drunk and vomits here, the others will dump him on the street outside, and it's not impossible for them to steal his money in the process.

Stepping on the greasy, twisted floor, they made their way through the noisy crowd and headed straight for a table in the corner. Only one person was sitting around the round table, with two candles lit on it. It was as if there was some invisible barrier around them, and no one came near.

The leader had a thick head of messy blond hair, which was not as shiny and textured as blond hair, and was more likely to remind people of the messy withered grass by the roadside in autumn. However, his beard was shaved very short, with only a short layer outlining a black outline. His eyes were bright but small, and his nose was broad and flat.

He went to the table, pulled out a chair, sat down, took off his dome-shaped helmet and placed it at his feet, took out two coins and threw them into the plate of the maid next to him. Soon someone brought them a glass of ale, still frothy.

The wine here is cleaner than the water... Anyone who has stayed here for a while can figure that out. The well water here is bitter and astringent. Many years ago, a scholar pointed out that this was because a huge mountain of dung piled up next to the city wall polluted the underground water source, which is why the well water in this city is bitter and hard to swallow... But no one believed his nonsense. The respectable citizens were unwilling to lose the convenience of dumping dung, so they tied him to a sick donkey and drove him out.

However, the well water was still hard to drink, so people gradually got used to drinking the brewed wine. People came to support the business from morning till night, making the place a lively social hub.

"I hope you really have a big deal this time, Heinrich. You've already fooled us twice. If you do it twice more, I'll have to put a sack over your head in the middle of the night, tie a rope to your feet, attach a rusty anchor to the other end, and send you to live with mermaids in the sea... Of course, you'll have to be able to find those legendary mermaid women."

The man's first words were quite unfriendly, and at that moment, the people waiting around him raised their heads, revealing a hairy, lewd face. The nose hairs and beard growing from that prominent nose blended together, giving the impression that he was not a kind person at first glance.

"Don't worry, Diyul, this is definitely a big deal. You can keep the fish-tailed women for yourselves on this voyage. Don't forget to tell me what it's like to have fun with them."

The mercenary looked interested and grunted twice through his nose.

"Going out to sea? You mean... we're going quite far this time?"

"Of course it's far, and the pay is good but the time commitment is long—at least a year... So, what do you think? Want to take it?"

305 Western Countries and the North (2)

With a thud, the sturdy oak cup slammed onto the table. Neither of the two hard pieces of wood could withstand the other; only a little of the layer of grease on the cup was rubbed off, and the foam of the ale inside spilled out, wetting a small patch of the table.

The mercenary leader, his face grim, picked up his glass and took a sip. He savored the unique, dark liquid bursting in his mouth. The wine here was cloudy and tasted mediocre, but its advantage lay in its cheap price. Anyone—even a beggar—could get a glass; everyone could afford it.

If they were willing to spend a few more copper coins, they could ask for some salted chickpeas or other snacks to go with their drinks, making them even more palatable. If they had a little more money, they could ask the maids and the tavern owner to serve them a proper meal. The best-off mercenaries almost always got to enjoy tender roasted meat and stewed meat soup... But mercenaries like theirs, who were neither particularly successful nor unsuccessful, could only afford some cheap smoked meat and sausages, as well as mushy bean soup.