Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

They need to splurge a little today, after all, they're about to close a big deal, and even if it's just to boost morale, they can't drink as little as they usually do.

Soon, chunks of meat skewered on thick iron skewers were served, along with a large plate of pickled beans. The group ate with gusto, their mouths greasy, and drank one glass of wine after another. They quickly blended into the atmosphere of the tavern, arm in arm, while continuing their conversation.

"Who exactly is the employer? You need to tell me that clearly, otherwise we won't even know where we're going to die."

"Of course, don't worry, this is indeed a good job—the king and great lords of the Kingdom of Salanod in the east are all taking care of mercenaries. This time they're recruiting together, the number is quite large, and they're very generous with the pay. There should be a big battle going to be fought, but I wonder which kingdom will be unlucky..."

Diyul nodded, pondering to himself... The success of a mercenary group like theirs largely depended on the decisions made by their leader. Sometimes they could make a fortune, while other times they could completely ruin themselves... He had to assess the risks and rewards carefully, unlike those hotheads who foolishly accepted any job they heard about.

Although they are people who make a living through war, they still need to be careful not to fall into the games of those big shots... that's no fun at all.

"Can you be more specific? Where exactly are we going to fight? I can't take on this task if I don't understand this."

The agent's hairy face furrowed slightly, and Dijul knew this was a sign that he was thinking, so he wasn't in a hurry. He downed another glass of wine, feeling the slight euphoria churning up from the back of his head... Then he threw the glass in the middle of the table—meaning he didn't need any more wine. After all, a little to quench his thirst was fine, and it was better to stay sober for what he was about to do.

"To be honest, I can't be too sure for you. Diyul... this time it's definitely a big deal. All the agents in the city have probably taken on this job. You might not see any mercenaries here in a couple of days... what you're getting involved in is definitely not a small matter."

Diyul nodded, waiting for the other person to continue.

"Of course, there is definitely danger. No matter what you do, there is danger in your line of work... Even those famous mercenary groups, do you think their leaders can say that they can make money every time without losing their lives? So there is no need to be too timid."

"What's more, so many people are going this time, and several large mercenary groups have taken on this job, so you don't have to worry about being ripped off by those noble lords... Of course, the most important thing is that they can pay in advance! A quarter of the price for a year! You can't find better conditions anywhere else."

The people around him who were busy drinking suddenly stopped what they were doing and turned to look at him with surprised expressions. In the mercenary business, it is common for employers to default on their payments. It is not uncommon for them to sell the mercenary after the job is done. So anyone with a brain would ask for a portion of the salary in advance. Of course, this is the ideal situation. In general, there will definitely be resistance, and it is impossible to get the money so easily.

But this time, the employer actually paid 1/4 of the salary in advance... In any case, at least from this point of view, it can be considered reliable, which is enough to reassure many people.

Diyul didn't need to look up to know that the guys next to him had stopped drinking, and they were all staring intently at him, their opinions self-evident.

He was also very tempted... Once there's no work in the mercenary line of work, it's easy to run out of money and become penniless. After all, people like them don't know if they'll die in some corner tomorrow, and they're used to squandering the money they earn, enjoying fine wine, food, and women as soon as possible... Moreover, important things like armor and weapons need to be maintained and updated from time to time, which is another huge expense if you do the math.

Moreover, their business was already bad this year; they only did one small job—being hired by a viscount to attack an enemy's castle, which was completed in just 50 days.

After much deliberation, he finally made up his mind under the watchful eye of his agent:

“Okay, we’ll take it… but you have to give us the agreed-upon quarter of the payment first, not a penny less, and we can’t pay for the travel expenses.”

"No problem, you can go back and prepare now, take this..."

The agent smiled with satisfaction, then kicked a bag from under the table to his feet. The crisp clinking of metal inside was clearly audible even in the noisy pub.

"I knew you'd be interested, so I prepared the money early on. A boat will pick you up at the dock in two days. Get all your cooking utensils ready, so you don't mess things up and get yourself killed. Don't blame me if that happens."

Diyul calmly stepped onto his boots, rubbed them slightly, and had roughly made a judgment:

"To be honest, I'm almost relieved now. After all, even the richest man wouldn't bleed this much at once."

"We're all old friends, so you can rest assured about the people I introduce to you. At least they won't deliberately send you to your deaths... As for the rest, that depends on your own abilities."

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

Bang bang bang!

The sailor carried a huge wooden hammer and struck the frozen ship's gunwales with all his might, breaking the thin layer of ice formed from the previous night's fog and letting it fall into the sea. Behind him followed a companion with a wooden shovel, who threw the ice shards off the deck as well.

Staying on a ship in this kind of weather is definitely not a good idea—compared to the frigid conditions on land, it's even more bitterly damp. It's difficult for any normal person to endure the cold and damp boots and clothes for long, not to mention having to carefully break up the ice that has formed on the ropes and deck every morning to prevent it from getting thicker and causing any trouble.

Many people were already waiting on the dock, most of them gathered around the few braziers used for lighting, rubbing their hands, stamping their feet, cursing and complaining about the awful weather, while scraping the mud off their feet from the protrusions next to them.

A small boat slowly sailed back from the distant sea, carrying two burly men who were freezing. Their eyebrows and beards were covered in frost. A sailor reached out to tie their ropes, then took a flask from his waist and tossed it to them so the two shivering men could drink and warm themselves.

After taking a few gulps of strong liquor and rubbing their hands and feet, they seemed to come alive, dragging out two huge wooden mallets from the ship—used to break the ice that had formed overnight to prevent these large ships from getting stuck in the harbor.

The icebreakers returned by boat one after another, and more and more mercenaries gathered at the dock. They rarely had any discipline, and at this moment, none of them were idle. They were noisily asking questions, trying to find out more information.

"Get ready to board the ship. Make sure you've counted your men!"

Finally, as the sailors of a large ship shouted loudly to the mercenaries, the other large ships also lowered their gangplanks and ladders, beckoning these paid men to board and set sail.

Because the scale of this mercenary force was so astonishing, even though the generous employer had hired many ships, it would still take several days to transport all the people away, and the chaos at the docks would continue for quite some time.

A coachman wearing a sheepskin hat yawned as he looked at the noisy group in the distance. He sniffed his nose, which was red from the cold, and then lost interest in watching any longer. He raised his whip and lashed the rump of the horse pulling the carriage.

The carriage moved slowly forward, and a few idlers by the roadside were chatting and speculating about where these mercenaries were being taken.

The coachman was driving very slowly, perhaps to be extra careful in the cold weather. He also took out his wine every now and then and drank a few sips, which allowed him to clearly hear the conversation of those people.

"I bet the king of Salanod is causing trouble for his neighbors again! Many mercenaries live off their feuds, but I didn't expect them to be so persistent even in winter."

"I don't think so. Not a single word has come out. If we were really going to fight the Duchy of Ado, we should be able to find out something, since caravans from the west and north all pass through here."

"If not, then who is he going to fight? And why is he spending so much money and hiring so many people... Is it the Kingdom of Turot in the west?"

"No, I think it's more like the Duke of Ripley in the north. Last year they had a dispute over a copper mine at the edge of the woodland."

"That was resolved a long time ago. The King of Salanod bought the mine outright with a sum of money. It shouldn't have been them."

Just as they were discussing this, a guy who had been silent all along suddenly spoke up:

"Could they be preparing to attack the Empire...? Isn't the Kingdom of Salanod just the garrison of the Sabendom Fortress? They've always been on guard against the Empire..."

These words were like a chilling wind, freezing everyone's mouths. Everyone else turned to look at him, stunned, seemingly unaware that such a possibility even existed…

But soon, others began to refute his views, all believing it to be utter nonsense. What kingdom would dare to challenge such a behemoth as the Empire? In the past, even relying on natural defenses was barely enough; they needed the support of other nations.

Only when the carriage slowly passed by them did the driver suddenly turn back and glance thoughtfully at the man. Then he frowned almost imperceptibly, as if he had a slight doubt, but in the blink of an eye he lowered his gaze again and drove the carriage away.

A crow flapped its wings and flew to the eaves of a nearby house, opening its beak and emitting a harsh cawing, as if mourning something or celebrating something, but ultimately no one noticed.

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

A bloody head was opening its mouth and howling—of course, there was no sound, since it had been cut off its owner's neck and was now just a piece of hardened dead flesh. In the cold wind, its tangled fur struggled like living insects.

The head was chopped off quite beautifully, the cut slicing through the gap in the cervical vertebrae without any unnecessary embellishments. The clean, smooth cut even gave it a slightly eerie beauty... Of course, for the head's current owner, its value was far greater.

"Did you pick up his ID card?"

“No, these guys don’t use ID tags, but I got his helmet back; it’s a pretty brass helmet.”

The Kurist light cavalryman, dressed in red uniforms, cheerfully raised the head in one hand and reached into the saddlebag beside him with the other, pulling out a brass helmet. The top of the helmet was covered with a light blue turban, and the edge was adorned with chainmail. The top protrusion had a cross-shaped pattern, making it look quite beautiful.

The military officer in front of him looked up, then nodded.

"Well done, I'll make a note of it here... First rank of cavalry squad leader... Alright, just put your head here, no, over there! Right, a little over there... together with that bunch of heads, someone will clean it up later."

"Oh, and what about your reward? Are you planning to collect it now or wait until the war is over?"

"Let's collect them all after we finish playing. I've saved up quite a bit already, so there's no rush to withdraw them. I can't spend them anyway."

Tuo Moyi walked out of the tent with a smile, carefully wiping the blood off his hands on the pillar by the door, as if he had just slaughtered a sheep...

306 Probing (1)

His horse was exhausted...

The man was well aware of this. His sturdy warhorse was drenched in sweat, the hot sweat even soaking through the mattress under the saddle, making his hands feel the dampness. His abdomen, tucked between his legs, was convulsing and swelling like a blower, each step seemingly requiring all his strength.

If this continues, the fine horses he bought at great expense will run themselves to death. Normally, he would never do such a thing; he would rather walk than waste such a lot of horsepower... But now he can't care about that anymore. If he can't escape, not only will the horses be lost, but his head will also be taken away by someone else.

A sharp, aggressive sound, like the howl of a ghost, surrounded him, shifting and changing around the jungle, never leaving him, like a real demon eyeing his life... He knew what these sounds were—the Imperial light cavalry from the north, like hungry wolves, relentlessly haunting him, and he was their prey.

He knew exactly what those guys were waiting for... They were waiting for them to be exhausted, to be completely consumed by fear, before they could calmly come and take their spoils.

That time won't be too long...

Even he was exhausted from the long run and the immense psychological pressure. How long could his remaining subordinates hold out? Their only chance was to escape into the territory controlled by his own army. Once they were there, even the boldest of these wolf cubs wouldn't dare to pursue them.

"Whoosh!!!"

A specially designed arrow, accompanied by a piercing, shrill laugh, whistled past their heads, as if someone had whipped them from the shadows. Their horses simultaneously quickened their pace, pushing their already limited stamina to its limit, causing them to frequently turn their heads, their expressions growing increasingly panicked.

"These damned bastards, may the Holy Lord curse them to be burned in flames after death!"

The man couldn't help but curse, but it was all in vain. He couldn't even get a sneer in return. Most of the arrows they fired in their panic missed their mark. Even if they did hit the enemy's fine chainmail, it would block most of them... To be honest, this was the first time he had ever seen an army where even the scouts had such excellent armor.

Battles between scouts are often more bloody and brutal. Small-scale probing, guerrilla warfare, ambushes, and pursuits test an individual's courage, martial skills, and essential quick thinking. A slight mistake can lead to the death of even the most famous warrior.

Only those who are truly quick-witted, resourceful, and brave can serve in this branch of the military, and he has clearly already failed...

He had never seen such an opponent before—more ferocious than a wolf, more cunning than a fox, never hesitant to use despicable means to weaken his enemies, never taking the initiative to confront them head-on, and only striking when the prey was exhausted and exposed a weakness, then striking to achieve victory and wipe them out.

He came out with a full thirty men, but now only eight of them are still alive and have run here with him; the rest are heads hanging on the enemy's saddles...

Amidst the billowing dust, just as their horses were panting heavily and everyone had eaten their fill of dirt, they finally saw the white city walls in the distance—at that moment, the man almost burst into tears; he had never imagined he would miss the safe city so much.

The others were immediately invigorated and turned around to draw their bows and shoot arrows, forcing back the pursuers who had been harassing them. The pursuers retaliated without hesitation and were not prepared to let them go easily.

For a moment, arrows flew through the air like locusts, whistling with deadly sharpness... However, since it was an arrow shot from horseback, and there was still a considerable distance to cover, the accuracy of both sides was worrying. In particular, the fugitives were already exhausted, and many of them could not draw their bows fully, so the arrows they shot were even weaker and less effective. A barrage of arrows only served to harass them.

But that was enough for the fugitives... As long as these guys didn't chase them too closely, they had a chance to escape. They were all invigorated and whipped their warhorses into action.

Until a cold arrow suddenly flew from the side and pierced deeply into the shoulder of a warhorse! The already exhausted creature stumbled and fell to the ground, throwing its rider off and sending him rolling in a pile of rubble, a bloody mess... Only then did the fugitives realize—the situation was dire!

From a grove of trees to the east of the city, light cavalrymen draped in red cloaks emerged like ghosts and rained down arrows upon them!

They were ambushed! The man realized this immediately, but it was too late to say anything... The pursuers had been driving them in this direction to capture them all.

In this extremely critical final moment, the leader of the reconnaissance squad from the southern tribe finally showed the courage he should have. Facing the thunderous hoofbeats behind him and the spears approaching from the side, he gritted his teeth, gripped the leaf spear in his hand, and charged forward—his horse could no longer run, and there was no room for maneuver.

The other side seemed to have the same idea, especially with the billowing yellow dust rising from the city gate in the distance, which made them decide not to waste any more time with them. Braving the rain of arrows, the gleaming spearheads came into view, followed by crescent-shaped scimitars waiting to cut off their heads!

In the blink of an eye, the two passed each other. In this deadly collision, everyone except him had fallen off their horses and become corpses. He was also stabbed several times. His chainmail was torn open by a spear, taking away a palm-sized piece of flesh. The excruciating pain and exhaustion tormented him, and after he and his horse had rushed a short distance, he could no longer hold on and fell over.

In that instant, he burst into laughter, rolling into the yellow sand with a satisfied expression—his spear had struck his first opponent, and he was certain that the other had died before him.

The sound of the horse's hooves had faded into the distance, and his mind was becoming hazy. A sharp ringing in his ears was churning his brain like a knife, and his stomach was spasming as if it were knotted, causing blood and vomit to come out of his mouth at the same time.

A fine horse stopped in front of him. The rider's clean-shaven chin beneath his helmet was taut, and he looked down at him with a deep gaze, but he no longer cared.

The gleaming scimitar shone with a warm, brilliant luster in the sunlight. Watching its sharp blade rise high like the wings of an eagle, he coughed and squinted.

“Look, he is going up on the light, in the moon of sheep's tongue and thorns…”

The blade slashed down, blood splattered everywhere, and his vision blurred... As he was grabbed by the hair and lifted up, the last thing he saw was his own bleeding neck...

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

Before the pursuers in the city arrived, the light cavalry had already scattered. They coordinated perfectly to kill themselves, tied the bodies of their comrades to their warhorses, and quickly left along the road, leaving behind only headless corpses and splattered blood.

Some even took advantage of their nimble hands and feet to plunder the better-quality armor and weapons into their saddlebags during this short opportunity, leaving them as clean as a carcass that had been visited by vultures.

The cavalry that chased them out of the city only followed for twenty or thirty miles before retreating. For them, the area beyond the city was no longer safe. Tens of thousands of imperial light cavalry roamed around like a pack of wolves, hunting down any enemy who dared to leave the territory of the enemy army. Countless scouts disappeared without a trace, like stones thrown into water, and never returned.

However, in order to ascertain the movements and plans of the Imperial Legion, a steady stream of reconnaissance units continued to be dispatched. Bloody probing had already begun before the main armies even drew near… but it seemed that the Aslerians were unexpectedly falling into a disadvantageous position at an extremely rapid pace.

This caught the commander of the Assele Legion completely off guard—no matter what intelligence he gathered, he had never heard of the Empire having such a large number of elite light cavalry! They were practically overwhelming him, making it impossible for him to discern the enemy's situation.

They had barely exchanged blows when the renowned Thesolius opposite him slapped him across the face without hesitation, and with such ferocity and aggression that he immediately realized he had to change his strategy…

--------

"We should assemble our army and fight the Empire to the death on the northern plains! Let these warmongers know they should keep their claws out of their hands, or we'll chop them off! When did the people of the Land of Yellow Sands become so cowardly? They actually want to retreat from the enemy when our army has suffered no losses?!"

A bearded Assele general was complaining with a furious expression, spitting as he spoke. Anyone could see his displeasure; he was like a lion driven mad with hatred, ready to tear something apart at any moment.

The person he was questioning remained expressionless, appearing somewhat weak. However, this very demeanor caused his voice to grow softer and softer, and his expression to become slightly flustered. Eventually, he could no longer continue speaking, coughed a few times, and buried his head in his seat.

Having subdued the discontented general with just a glance, Samir showed no sign of triumph, maintaining his calm demeanor, only shifting his gaze to his left:

"Salim, what do you think? Do you, like Iprah, believe we should take the initiative and challenge the Empire to a decisive battle?"

The man he was questioning was a man with a goatee, a thin face, but still strong and powerful limbs. He looked like a leopard standing up, giving people a sense of danger at all times.

He wore a brass plate breastplate and back armor, without any other auxiliary armor. The turban wrapped around his forehead was a bright and vivid red and black striped pattern. Where there should have been an ear on the left side, there was only a smooth, abnormal patch of skin left, obviously cut off by a sharp blade.

When questioned by his commander, he showed no panic, only paused briefly to organize his thoughts, clearly having planned ahead:

"Sir, I don't think this is a good idea..."

Before the words were even finished, the hot-tempered general had already stood up and was shouting insults:

"You coward!..."

“Shut up, Iprah. Don’t make me throw you out of here in front of everyone. That’s not what we want to see.”

Samir's voice, sharp as a blade, suddenly choked him, preventing him from speaking further. He could only sit back down indignantly, causing the Apharis in the tent, who had already begun to move, to return to their original positions.

“Go on, Salim, tell me your reasons… This war we face requires the wisdom of all the nobles, and I am eager to hear your thoughts.”

Salim nodded, glancing sideways at the irritable man opposite him, before continuing:

"My lord, we have already accomplished most of our main objective this time—the Southeast Valley has fallen into our hands, and the Imperials are currently in high spirits and showing their strength. There is no need for us to fight them head-on. What good would that do us? Even if we temporarily repel the Imperials, we will certainly suffer considerable losses."

"We have already obtained what we needed. Faced with their aggressive advance, what we should do now is to retreat layer by layer to intercept them, weaken and exhaust their strength, lure their legion deeper, and use the terrain we have already obtained to fight against the Empire... After all, as the saying goes, an arrow that has flown too far, even if shot from a strong bow, will hardly be able to tear through a layer of silk."

"Moreover, this has another advantage: we will not lose what we have already gained. The Southeast Valley has been occupied by us. Even if the battle is not going well, we can hold it securely. In this way, we can be invincible from the very beginning."