Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

"It's Imperial armored cavalry! How did they get here?!"

Alva was equally surprised. Even with his whip still swung, he dared to turn his head to observe, only to be startled by the other's terrifying speed.

"Damn it, they're still wearing iron armor, how can those horses run so fast! Why haven't the city's garrison come out to support us yet? Are they blind? I'm going to cut off their leader's head!"

Asach looked grimly at the city in the distance—a city garrisoned by Asseleans and defended by Holsians. Regardless, they should have noticed the situation here, but since he gave the signal, no one had opened the city gates.

He didn't know what the problem was, but for them right now, any delay would be fatal!

He took out another whistling arrow from the quiver, stood firmly on the galloping horse to ensure that it would not interfere with or shake his upper body, and then steadily drew back the bow and threw the arrow.

This time he clearly saw the figures moving on the distant city wall, and he was absolutely certain that someone could hear the sound. They had just left this place that morning, and the soldiers on the wall couldn't possibly not know who they were!

He stared intently at every move on the city wall, his eyes practically bursting at the corners. The dust kicked up by the horses' hooves around him entered his mouth, but it couldn't shake him in the slightest. He waited with a restless anxiety, as if his nerves were being burned out.

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

As the first whistling arrow pierced the air with a sharp sound, the Asel soldiers stationed on the city walls realized the situation was dire. In the distance, amidst the billowing dust, fluttered the imperial eagle banner! And those fleeing in panic toward the city were clearly nobles who had gone hunting that morning!

The situation was already very clear. Even the most foolish person would understand what had happened. Logically, they should act quickly and send cavalry out of the city to meet their lord and prevent him from falling into the hands of the enemy. If only the city defense officer were here, he would do it immediately.

The problem now is that he is not the one with more prestige and power on this city wall, so he cannot issue the order. He can only offer his suggestion to that esteemed person and wait for the other party to speak... Moreover, they are soldiers of the Abatheris family, so they cannot act on their own initiative.

But now, he was already sweating profusely, and a sense of foreboding made him frequently turn his head to look at the young man standing on the city wall—the other man had several bloodstains on his face for some reason, and his expression was very complicated, mixed with some...may God forgive his offense and blasphemy...twisting and strange.

Meanwhile, Pusdorj, the young heir of the Aba Aselis family, was also caught in a dilemma. Something terrible was churning in his heart, gnawing at it like a venomous snake, burrowing out holes that oozed venom...

He knew what he should do now—lead his soldiers to demonstrate their bravery, to go out of the city to rescue Alva from the oncoming imperial forces, or even to repel the enemy's pursuers… This was the most honorable and righteous thing to do, which would not only increase his prestige but also have a great chance of winning the heart of a beautiful woman…

No matter how you look at it, this is the best choice, but a terrible hesitation still lingers in his heart.

He could not forget the humiliation he had suffered that morning. Even now, thinking back on it made his mind churn, and his temples throbbed as if under pressure.

Every time the related images rolled through his mind, a sense of shame and humiliation, as if he wanted to crawl into a crack in the ground, gnawed at his reason, like a sharp dagger constantly churning and stabbing inside his chest.

It was precisely because of this that, driven by this emotion, he suddenly felt a terrible hesitation. Looking at the imperial army rolling in from afar, he had a dark thought—if he deliberately did not send out any troops, and let Alva and his entourage all die at the hands of the imperial people…would his shame be covered up? Would this woman’s disdain for him also be avenged?

Although Alva might die or be captured by the Empire, it wouldn't really concern him much. Even if he investigated further, it would at most be seen as a delay in action...

Yes, if we delay for a little while, if we ignore other people's suggestions for a little while, just a little while... and then cover it up a bit, we won't have any trouble...

What's even more worrying is that the Imperials chasing after us don't look like people to be trifled with. What if we get caught up in their trap? Who will come to our rescue then?

This chaotic thought plunged him into a twisted and conflicted state, in which making a decision was destined to be a long and hesitant process... And at this moment, hesitation and indecision were themselves a decision, a statement. Enough to make the soldiers belonging to his family in this city realize something, thus rendering them indifferent.

Fear, resentment, anger, hesitation, excitement... all these chaotic thoughts swirled in his mind, making him watch helplessly as the pursuers below the city drew ever closer, and as the man who had just saved his life was about to fall into enemy hands and be trampled by their iron cavalry.

Perhaps he will regret and hate himself for his hesitation and dark thoughts afterward, but at this moment, the consequences of his hesitation are ultimately irreversible and unchangeable. He hesitated, he cowered, he wavered…

He ultimately betrayed them.

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Running at full speed over such a long distance was ultimately squeezing out the last bit of strength from their warhorses. Even though they were riding fine horses, they couldn't withstand such torment.

The thin skin of the Thoroughbred Arthuretus beneath him was soaked with sweat, which also dampened the wool rug under the saddle. The horse's heavy breathing grew heavier and more labored with each step.

They all knew their warhorses had reached their limit; if they continued running, their lungs might burst and they would collapse and die. They were still an arrow's throw away from the city wall... No one had opened the city gate yet, and even if they reached the wall, they were destined to die.

"Miss, we'll hold them off, you must go! Head west, this city is no good! That coward wants us dead! Run southwest, there must be an army coming to meet us there! Your horse is better than ours, you'll definitely make it!"

Without any hesitation from Asachi, and without any questioning from the others, these servants, raised from childhood, reined in their warhorses, voluntarily increasing their speed at this critical moment, and then tried to turn their horses around to meet the imperial cavalry. Before that, he had already plunged his dagger into Alva's warhorse's rump, rousing the exhausted horse once again, and carrying its mistress, who still wanted to say something, to continue charging south.

This was a suicidal decision—in their current exhausted and unarmored state, if they were to run into the Imperial cavalry, they would be trampled into mincemeat in an instant… there would be no other outcome. But for them, this would at least make the Imperial pursuers pause for a short while, and that short while would be enough for their mistress to escape a little further.

At this moment, Asachi showed no emotion. He simply urged his warhorse forward expressionlessly, charging towards the imposing knight with the winged helmet. The long sword in his hand seemed so ridiculous and fragile at this moment, like a vase crashing into a hard rock.

Just moments before the clash, he watched as the enemy wearing the winged helmet suddenly raised his left hand and made a gesture, and his iron cavalry scattered to both sides at his command! Like a hand suddenly opening, it grabbed their small group of people.

His final swing of the longsword scraped against the opponent's smooth, gleaming arm armor, sending sparks flying before being deflected. For some reason, the sharp spear failed to pierce his body.

But in the instant of the clash, to his utter astonishment, a powerful arm had already gripped his neck, pulling him off his warhorse like a stalk of grass. The lack of oxygen and the sudden pressure caused him to black out and lose consciousness...

As the iron cavalry surrounded them, the servants who had been fighting to the death were suddenly at a loss. In particular, their leader was snatched from his horse like a baby in one fell swoop and then thrown to the ground, his life hanging in the balance.

Without leadership, everyone would fall into a period of chaos and panic. Although the time was short, they had already lost their last chance. As the light cavalry followed and threw out a barrage of lassos, the servants who still wanted to resist were dragged off their horses and captured in the blink of an eye.

At this moment, Tersolius's goal remained very clear... However, after seeing that the city gates remained closed, he had a new idea in mind... an idea that could bring more benefits to the empire, but before that, he could not let his prey escape.

The archers on the city wall fired arrows at him, but because the horses were so fast, they all fell behind. He then drew his bow and casually shot arrows at the city wall, killing off those enemies who dared to appear at the gap in the battlements, as if calling out names. After killing seven or eight people, no one dared to show their heads again.

This interference, though brief, was still effective—his prey had already run some distance, and his fingers had drawn a heavy arrow, but considering the possibility that she might break her neck from falling off her horse, he put it back… After all, if she died, she would be useless and would only cause trouble…

311 The Hunting Ground (4)

This is perhaps the worst situation a general could face—his entire retinue has been wiped out, and he has been shamefully betrayed by his colleagues, leaving him in a life-or-death situation. And just then, the sound of hooves behind him grows faster and louder. Interspersed with this are the sounds of armor clashing, the clatter of swords, and the vibrations of bowstrings—all are almost upon him, threatening to kill him in an instant.

The warhorse beneath her was nearly exhausted, its lungs bulging as it ran, threatening to burst at any moment, and its speed was inevitably slowing down... Suddenly, a realization dawned on Alva, a realization that made her realize that she probably couldn't escape.

She turned her head one last time to look behind her. In the distance, the flag of the Abatheris family was still fluttering over that wretched city. That despicable flag of the traitors still flew above, and she was about to be mortal enemies because of their betrayal... no, it might be something worse than death. And the fact that her hatred could not be avenged made her bite her lip so hard that it bled.

But things don't always go perfectly. She could even imagine the expression on her father's face when he learned of her death... and she understood even more that the damned traitor would never get the punishment he deserved.

Finally, Alvara, having made up her mind, reined in her warhorse, bringing the exhausted noble creature to a stop. The long run had left her face covered in sweat in the cold season, and her hair was stuck to her forehead.

The next moment, the warhorse's hooves buckled. After stopping, it had no strength left to get up and collapsed to the ground. She nimbly jumped off the saddle, turned around to look at the eagle-helmeted knight riding towards her, drew the scimitar from her waist, looked at the sharp blade that seemed capable of slicing through eyes, sighed slightly, and then without hesitation slashed her own neck.

This cut could easily sever several muscles on the side of her neck, cut the arteries hidden inside in two, and leave a large gash on her neck, even exposing the cervical bone, ensuring she died cleanly and decisively here... She absolutely could not fall into the hands of the Empire, whether for her father or for the country.

This should have been a swift and decisive strike, like slitting a sheep's throat without a moment's hesitation. The pursuer had no time to react, forced to watch helplessly as their precious prey died before their very eyes... That's how it should have been.

Like lightning, the arrow pierced the air, striking the upper half of the golden hilt with a sharp metallic clang. It snapped off the intricately carved, tassel-like end, causing the knife in her hand to tilt upwards and extend behind her shoulder. A second and a third arrow followed immediately, their fierce force numbing her palms and making her lose her grip on the knife, which flew out of her hand and landed behind her.

What fierce and heavy arrows these were! The shafts even burst open in the middle under the immense force, and the magnificent horn bow was pulled to its limit, pulled behind the ear. The terrifying power was enough to penetrate iron armor and tear bones apart, but he shot out three arrows in the blink of an eye, as if pulling soft noodles.

Her right hand was so numb that she could hardly move it, but her left hand drew the curved dagger from her waist without the slightest hesitation, and then pressed it against her heart right in front of the other person. All the other person could see was the rounded end inlaid with gold—no matter how superb the other person's archery skills were, this time it would be difficult to stop her.

"Don't rush to die, madam. Let me say something first."

Seeing that it was already difficult to stop, the knight on the other side suddenly spoke, his voice carrying a metallic tremor that instantly drowned out all the surrounding noise, carrying an undeniable presence.

Alva looked up at the other person with amusement, then, disregarding everything, continued to plunge the dagger into his heart.

"Are you going to let that traitor go? Just die like that, and let the person who betrayed you go?"

…………

These words were like a cold, sharp spike piercing her chest, and the tip of the dagger stopped on her skin after cutting through two layers of clothing, leaving her frozen like a statue.

Seeing that she had finally stopped her self-harming actions, the knight on horseback breathed a sigh of relief. He casually placed his bow in front of him, then reached into his warhorse's saddlebag and took out a carrot and a strange piece of wood. He fed the carrot to his warhorse, his movements as unhurried as if he were on a journey.

“How about we talk? Maybe there’ll be a chance for things to turn around. Besides, even if the conversation falls apart, you can always stab yourself in the chest, right? I can’t stop you from this distance, so there’s no risk for you.”

"And what about you, General? Why did you do this? Was it for personal gain?"

For reasons unknown, perhaps still clinging to a sliver of attachment to the world and a glimmer of hope for revenge, Alva actually retorted with a question, though the dagger in his hand remained firmly in place.

The knight wearing the winged helmet drew a dagger from his waist and began cutting something on the wood in his hand. Alva couldn't understand what he was doing, so he simply ignored it and impatiently waited for the other's reply. At the same time, he slowly increased the pressure on the dagger in his hand, as if he had only taken a moment to ask this question during his suicide attempt.

"Hmm...alright, there's no need to hide it from you now. I did come for merit, and a merit that will allow me to be promoted and enjoy wealth and honor from now on...You are a noble lord, and I'm sure you're not a fool. Don't you want to know why we were able to track you down? In such a large area, how could our patrols have discovered your presence so quickly, and even deployed our elite troops to pursue you?"

Reaching out, he untied the straps of his helmet, removed it, and hung it at his waist, revealing his sharp, handsome face. Tersolius calmly began to ramble on, while simultaneously whittling away excess wood from the block in his hand. He would occasionally bring it to his eyes for a closer look, blowing away the wood chips and dust. His attention seemed completely elsewhere, no longer on the woman opposite him. But without realizing it, he had already gestured behind him, causing the cavalry, who were almost upon him, to stop and maintain their distance.

The tone was so calm, so matter-of-fact, yet possessed an eerie persuasiveness that instantly drew Alva's attention. This terrifying suspicion briefly churned within her before a horrifying sense of panic overwhelmed her.

"Someone leaked our whereabouts to you!! Who is it?! Who is the traitor?!"

A terrible rage surged up, almost burning away her reason. The anger of betrayal, the exhaustion and panic of desperately fleeing, the sorrow of the servant who had accompanied her since childhood going to his death without hesitation, and the worry for her father and family all converged at this moment, raging fiercely in her heart.

"Perhaps you already have the answer in your heart, don't you? After all, you are a smart person. If you think about it carefully, you should be able to select a general candidate. I am just following orders."

Tersolius made one last cut in the wood with his knife, then gently sheathed the dagger back into its scabbard at his waist. He then lightly patted Moss's neck, and the magnificent warhorse immediately understood, raising its head high and using its thick neck to block the other's view. Meanwhile, Tersolius quietly threaded the wood onto the shaft of an arrow whose arrowhead had already been removed, pressed it firmly a few times to ensure it was secure, and finally nocked the arrow onto the bowstring resting in front of him.

"Who is it? Who is it?! Could it be Iprah, that guy has long harbored resentment towards my father... or Sachino? Their family has caused many deaths and injuries in our struggle over that oasis water source..."

The black-haired beauty before him was caught in a complex state of panic, confusion, doubt, anger, and tension. Tersolis took a deep breath and then whistled like a hunter, causing the woman to jerk up. In that instant, the stun arrow he had been working on for so long struck her squarely in the face.

He could even clearly hear the sound of the nasal cartilage breaking, and the protective physiological syncope caused by this intense impact made the other person roll their eyes and faint instantly, the dagger in their hand slamming to the side with a snap.

"Hmph hmph hmph... Hehehe"

Thesolius chuckled smugly, then without hesitation, he shoved his bow into its saddlebag, spurred his horse forward, dismounted, and tossed her onto the saddle like a deer he'd scooped up from the ground. He quickly bound her hands and feet with ropes, and after looking around and finding nothing suitable, he simply took off one of her gloves and stuffed it into her mouth to make sure she wouldn't bite her tongue or anything.

Finally, to prevent the woman from being thrown off when the warhorse was running, he took out ropes from her saddle and tied her securely to his own saddle three or four times before stopping, satisfied with his plan.

"I almost messed it up... I'll leave you something."

Just as Tersolius was about to leave, he suddenly saw the very docile steed Asel. After a moment's thought, a malicious smile crept onto his lips. He picked up the dagger from the ground, casually tucking the curved sword into his belt. Then he turned to carefully examine the banners on the city wall. With the dagger, he meticulously carved a pattern onto the saddle of the horse, and after finishing, he slapped the horse's rump, driving it southward.

"Now you don't have to worry about the traitor's misdeeds going unnoticed..."

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As they rode back, their ranks were laden with prisoners, many horses carrying them on their backs. They passed brazenly beneath the city walls in impeccable formation. The young man who had betrayed them was now consumed by regret—a regret weak, thin, and laughable, yet undeniably painful. He truly regretted it, especially seeing the woman he admired bound like prey to the enemy general's saddle. The extreme complexity of his emotions nearly overwhelmed him. If his emotions had to be given a color, it would be a dull, greenish-black, like filthy mud…

Driven by this emotion, he suddenly opened his mouth and shouted to the soldier next to him:

"What are you all standing there for? Fire arrows! Shoot them dead!! Kill these Imperials now!"

The soldiers were stunned for a moment, then they all took out their bows from their waists, drew their bows and arrows, and prepared to attack the enemy troops below the city... At this distance, the arrows would just fly around like urine.

"Bang!!"

A sharp whistle suddenly rang in everyone's ears, followed by a coil of rope falling from the sky. Just as everyone was somewhat confused, a fine and gorgeous light yellow silk floated before their eyes, embroidered with a proud ram in gold thread, and landed on the ground at their feet...

"what!!"

A sharp scream suddenly pierced their eardrums. Everyone looked up in unison. They saw the young nobleman who had just been directing them now hiding behind the city wall in terror. His face was torn open, as if slashed by a sharp blade, and bright red blood was dripping down his face, dripping from between his clenched fingers onto his feet.

"This is a flag, how did it fall down? And what's wrong with the adults' faces?"

The officer asked, somewhat bewildered, while a soldier next to him, a step slower and thus able to see everything, cautiously replied:

"It was an Imperial general! He shot an arrow that severed the rope, causing the flag to fall, and the arrow also grazed the lord's face at the same time..."

The officer fell silent as if his throat had been choked. Then, as if possessed, he peered over the crenellations of the city wall. Meanwhile, the imperial general who had just fired an arrow had already put his bow back in its quiver and pointed in their direction. But that one gesture was enough to make him recoil as if bitten by a snake, and he dared not look out again.

The young man was trembling with fear... When the arrow grazed his cheek, he could almost smell death. It was fierce and sharp, with a metallic smell. He had never been so close before. It was like having the fangs of a lion or tiger gripping his neck, making him unable to muster any courage.

And so they practically watched as Imperial cavalry passed right by their city.

312 Disagreement (1)

No matter how outstanding a person's appearance is, it's impossible for them to always be radiant... After all, even the most beautiful woman will look disheveled if her face is covered in blood, especially if her nose is crooked...

The arrow that Tersolius fired was drawn with a strong bow, powerful enough to kill an armored soldier. Although it only drew away half of the arrow, it was still a force to be reckoned with. When it hit Alva in the face, it broke his nose. Now his nose was crooked to one side, his face was covered in blood and dust, and he was almost unrecognizable as a man or a woman.

Being strapped to a jolting horse is certainly not a comfortable experience. The constant shaking and impacts will ravage every joint and every internal organ in your body... This is completely different from the fatigue caused by riding a warhorse; it is like being treated as a brutal prey that has been shot.

So Alva's coma lasted only a short time, so short that she didn't even have time to hear the lingering sound of the arrow that Tersolius had shot through the rope before the cavalry cheered, the excitement of the Imperials returning with their spoils filling their warhorses.

Her face was in excruciating pain, as if a layer of skin had been peeled off... She couldn't figure out what was going on for a while, only that her whole body was aching and sore, her hands and feet were tightly bound, and her mouth was stuffed with something soft and pliable. After pushing it around with her tongue a couple of times, she realized that it was actually her deerskin gloves!

Blood kept dripping from her nose into the yellow dust in front of her. The dust kicked up by the horses' hooves pounding the ground choked her, making her face covered in soot. But her mouth was gagged, so she couldn't even cough. And the ropes binding her body were so tight that she couldn't move.

This torture continued for a long time. Just when Alva was losing consciousness, she was finally put down from her warhorse and roughly thrown to the base of a large tree.

Then came that awful voice she heard before she lost consciousness.

"She doesn't look well... Strange, even though her nose is broken and her face is swollen, it shouldn't be like this... Doctor, come and take a look at her quickly."

"I'm coming."

Her eyes were badly swollen, and she could only vaguely see a blurry blur of light and shadow. As the bright nail polish faded, a soft, pale blue figure approached her, and slender, cool fingers gently touched her forehead. Like a scorching desert receiving a refreshing rain, the burning pain subsided somewhat, causing her to let out a soft moan.

"Oh, she's awake, sir."

"Hmm, it seems like I'm alright. Why was I so weak just now? That's strange..."

The soft fingers paused suddenly, then a helpless voice rang out:

"I've taken a closer look, and it must be because you tied them too tightly, sir, and the jolting of the warhorse caused this... After all, people aren't prey; they still breathe."

"...I see. I've never personally captured prisoners before..."

"I need to check on the condition of the Passatria warhorses again. This lady just needs some of this to drink and a night's rest, and she'll be almost recovered. The injury on her face will take some time... but her nose can be put back in place now, otherwise it will grow crooked later."

"Then please get started, doctor. We have a meeting later."

"Hmm... It's better if you do it, sir. Putting the nose back in place requires speed and stability, which I probably can't do well. It's very simple; just bend it in the opposite direction of the twist, and you'll feel it clearly."

Tesorus stroked his chin and then nodded:

"Okay, I'll just use my hands to pry it back up. I noticed her nose is slightly sunken."