Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

These Apharis were the finest knights in all of Asel, and they would only obey the orders of the Shah or his commander. So when they appeared before them amidst the trembling of their scale armor, all the nobles tensed up—but in the end, they did not allow their guards to take any defensive action, even though these Apharis would not hesitate to thrust their spears and swing their swords at them if given the order.

Following closely behind was their summoner, the kingdom's finest warrior and most renowned general, the Lion of the Sands—Samir.

He was also fully armored, ready for war. The top of his gilded steel helmet was inlaid with a sun shape with rubies and sapphires, and the turban he wore around the helmet was a light blue one interwoven with gold threads.

This was the most appropriate attire for a military nobleman, and everyone stood up to salute him, offering their own respect.

A servant approached, carrying a golden basin of water in both hands. The water inside was so clear that it seemed almost empty. Samir walked without stopping until he reached the old man who was still sitting in the chair.

At this distance, breaking the other man's neck with his bare hands would be an easy task for him; after all, he was the most powerful warrior in all of Asler. Yet, the old man before him showed no fear, simply staring at him silently. He neither stood up to bow to him nor turned to leave.

He remained silent as well. The hostility between the two families had lasted for a long time, and he was willing to use his scimitar to cut off some heads and wash away the humiliation he had suffered with blood... But now those things that had once been the source of his grudges had become trivial, and they had to unite.

So he reached out and took a golden bowl from the side, gently scooped up a bowl of clear water from the basin, and let the water droplets flow down his fingers and into the nails on the back of his hand:

"Please drink this bowl of water, respected elder. Please put aside our hatred for now. At least for today, we cannot fight each other anymore."

The old man in front of me stared at the clear water in the bowl for a long time before suddenly speaking in a low voice:

"The hatred between us is far beyond what a bowl of water can quell... Or do you dare to continue to trust me? Trust us in the upcoming bitter battle?... I am very willing to fight alongside you, but I'm afraid this concern will be difficult to dispel in a short time."

"Rest assured, elder, I have not forgotten the hatred between us... I will eventually resolve this matter in my own way, but until then, I will trust you. I will place my trust in your hands, because you, like me, have fallen into the trap of the Empire..."

"In this respect, we are all the same. We are all facing the same situation, and I believe that no one here is foolish enough not to see that the only way out is to defeat the Empires—so I am willing to believe in you, to believe in your will to survive, and to believe that you are unwilling to accept that miserable defeat and terrible humiliation."

"The external crisis has forced us to stand on the same side, so we should give each other the most basic trust. So please drink this bowl of water, calm your confidence, strengthen your will, and let me lead you to repel the Empire's attack and let that arrogant brat know the consequences of his underestimation of the enemy and his recklessness."

The old man squinted at him, and after a long while, he slowly raised his hand to take the bowl. Without hesitation, he drank it all in one gulp. The water flowed down his chin, into his beard, and then soaked his nails and the yellow earth beneath his feet.

"That's why I've come. I hope you won't let us down."

"certainly……"

Samir nodded slightly, surprisingly delighted.

He then handed the lords water one by one, watching them drink it all down. By the time the last lord was gone, only a shallow layer of water remained in the basin.

"So I think we've reached a consensus now... I hope someone won't betray our mutual trust, otherwise even if I suffer a crushing defeat today, I'll make sure they fall into hell first. The traitors and the disloyal will suffer thousands of years of burning flames!"

The lords nodded repeatedly, even those who had been most hesitant just moments before were now speechless, just as united as when they first set out. However, their enthusiastic cheers vanished like smoke, leaving not a trace even in the clear air.

But they ultimately achieved unity, and the army finally eliminated the terrible divisions that had plagued it before... or so?

A servant rushed into the tent, his impetuous act immediately drawing everyone's attention. However, he received no punishment; instead, he was rewarded for reporting the news. And Samir, for the first time that day, smiled.

"It seems there is still some good news after all. The Holsians are not cowardly enough and have decided to send their reinforcements... although they only dare to move out when the Imperial Legion is drawn to them."

The statement, however, failed to evoke much excitement—after all, everyone knew the state of the Hols; their nation was on the verge of destruction, and what good could such a weak army possibly do?

330 On the Eve of War (3)

The scene before them was truly moving, especially considering the courage it took to request reinforcements in such a time of crisis. Even Samir, who had harbored suspicion and resentment towards the Hols, was somewhat surprised. The other lords, generals, and nobles were equally astonished. However, one thing puzzled everyone: why were there over a dozen enormous boxes being pulled by wagons among the Hols reinforcements?

What use are these boxes? Can they possibly be used to fight an army? Otherwise, it would be better to use these animals to carry more arrows.

Each of these chests could hold a cow. They appeared to be made of sturdy oak, but the damaged areas clearly revealed bloodstained steel bars about two fingers thick. An extremely foul stench emanated from them, causing Samir to frown even from five or six meters away and shift his gaze to the muscular, fully armored man beside him.

The man had a resolute and weathered face, and his blond hair was now streaked with gray, giving him an air of age that seemed out of place for his age. Yet, he remained upright and composed. The helmet he wore was adorned with a sharp crown made of interwoven gold and black steel. He was none other than Julius, the king of the Hols.

What surprised him most was that the man was fully armored and carried a sword, looking as if he was about to go into battle... As the ruler of a nation—although that nation was now in a state of flux, he was still a person of noble status. The fact that he dared to throw him onto this dangerous battlefield made him look at him with even greater respect.

After all, he will always respect the Warriors, regardless of who they are.

"Your courage moves me, Your Majesty. I never expected that with the Imperial army pressing in, you would be able to send out your last remaining troops. This is enough to prove how strong and reliable our friendship is, which is why we have achieved this glorious moment today."

Samir looked at the Holsian soldiers who had come from afar. These men were all extremely tired, but well-equipped. They all wore smooth, hard scale armor and shiny helmets. The chainmail rings were not visibly damaged, and even their boots were oiled. Although there were only 2000 of them, they were still a valuable force, enough to fill the lines and hold off an attack.

Indeed, in his view, the most suitable use for these men was to fill the ranks. Although he said that, he ultimately didn't have much trust in the Holsian army; he didn't understand these soldiers, and he couldn't entrust them with important tasks.

"Long time no see, esteemed commander. It has been a month since we last met. I heard about the misfortune that befell Miss Alva. But I believe this will not affect your resolve, so I am also determined to fulfill my obligations as an ally. After all, our fates are intertwined, and we share a powerful common enemy, so we must spare no effort."

Samir nodded in response, but his enthusiasm had vanished. He began to think coldly in his mind—he did not believe that the help of the Hols could play a decisive role. In the end, the victory would still depend on the army of the Asel, and only their strength could repel the imperial army.

Julius clearly saw this... things had developed beyond his expectations, otherwise he wouldn't have come here against his will.

The desperate situation the Asel people are in now is indeed none of their business, nor is it something they want to see. After all, the Asel army is fighting the Imperials to the bitter end, and the result of mutual attrition is what they would most like to see, rather than one side being completely annihilated while the other side continues to enjoy the fruits of victory without restraint. That would be a true catastrophe for them, as they have no ability to resist either side.

But the Imperials' surprise attack was truly unexpected. The people of Hels, who had been completely cut off from news and huddled in their last remaining territory, had very limited information. They didn't even know that the Imperial fleet had entered the river, let alone how they had managed to get the ships in! Not even the peregrine falcons kept in the important city guarding the river returned with any message.

He was stunned for a while when he received the news. Then the whole palace was in chaos. Before he could think of a way to deal with it, he received the bad news - the last fleet was destroyed by the Imperial warships, and the entire southern coastal waters were filled with burning wreckage and the corpses of fish and shrimp.

In a brief discussion, he, his court steward, and his most trusted general reached the crucial conclusion—they had to warn the Aslean army that the Empire's intentions must not be allowed to succeed. Unfortunately, despite recognizing the problem, they lacked the capacity to deliver the message in time. The number of messengers they sent out was enough to form a platoon, but none of them were able to complete their mission… Only when the entire Imperial Legion was mobilized, and the light cavalry roaming the plains were no longer present, did he have the opportunity to arrive here.

He had to come here... News can't be kept secret; the lords have ways of getting the most important information, some even before him... Then, he sadly realized that his authority was on the verge of collapse, not only because of the continuous defeats that the nobles blamed him for, but also because some people thought the situation was settled and wanted to curry favor with the potential new master—after all, what could prove his loyalty to the new master more than the head of a king? This meant he had cut off all avenues of retreat.

He could almost foresee when this would happen—when the empire's iron hooves crushed Assele's army to dust, and when the empire's commander was preparing to seize the final spoils of this southern campaign, naturally some people would set their sights on him in order to continue their wealth and seek a way to survive.

—Although he carries the oath, an assassin who plunges a dagger into his heart from behind, through several transfers, can bypass this obstacle, minimizing the possibility of the curse binding his bloodline. Therefore, the kings of this country have never overly threatened their lords; those who abuse this power die mysteriously.

So he had to come. Never before had he needed a victory, a victory strong enough to intimidate those ambitious lords... Only in this way could their painstakingly devised ideas have a chance to survive, and their nation be able to leave behind its last seed.

He also believed that the help he provided would be beneficial to any army, after all, the price he paid for it was astonishing and heartbreaking, and it even kept him awake at night due to fear.

He knew he was a sinner, an unforgivable sinner... There was no one in the entire history of the kingdom as despicable, pathetic, and shameful as him. No punishment was too much for him. The deserted town on the east side of the capital was proof enough of his evil.

Now let his evil consequences, his sinful fruits, serve their pathetic purpose...

“Take a look at this, sir. I believe it will come in handy.”

In front of all the Assele lords, he waved his hand, directing the soldiers beside him to lift the oak plank on the side of a chest, to show its contents to everyone.

"Hmm, if it's some kind of wild beast, I think it's unnecessary, Your Majesty. Those things are just...!!"

Samir only got halfway through his sentence before he nearly bit his tongue. A fierce look flashed in his eyes as he gripped the scimitar at his waist. The surrounding soldiers, startled, rustled their armor plates. The sound of swords being drawn was as dense as the wind rustling through leaves.

“Lord, how blasphemous! How unclean! How could such a thing be here? Burn it!”

"What kind of evil is this?! Has the demon from purgatory finally crawled out?!"

"How can such a thing exist in this world?! This person must be sent by an evil spirit to bewitch us, kill him..."

Before the soldiers could recover from their panic, the lords standing nearby began to shout angrily at them. They were all pale-faced, staring in terror at the massive body moving inside the iron cage.

“I expect an explanation from you, King of Hols… After all, none of us want to end this day on bad terms, before I order this damn filth to be burned.”

Samir had abandoned all honorifics, completely losing his last shred of decorum, and was practically questioning the king beside him in the tone of a brown-winged man, while Julius calmly and nonchalantly replied:

"These are the helpers I brought, sir. If you can calm down a bit and set aside some prejudices, you'll find them useful—these guys are enough to tear apart any formation and enough to terrify most brave soldiers. They can be a vital force in critical moments, and at least they won't attack our soldiers."

The enormous creature in the cage resembled a product of tangled, twisted muscles, grotesque and deformed. Much of its skin was missing, exposing the blood beneath. It was clad in rough armor made of sheet metal, crudely constructed to fit the illogical structure. Only the three blood-stained, spiked chains, each the size of an adult's head, hanging beside its massive claws as thick as an adult's waist, testified to the creature's terrifying destructive power.

Four thick legs covered in stitches allowed it to bear a terrifying weight, while its pitifully small head, with its clusters of black tentacles, contained a cavity shaped like a lamprey, inside which fine, sharp teeth were snapping shut, interspersed with blood and bits of flesh that were nauseating.

It is a filthy, ugly, blasphemous, and unclean existence, but no one can deny its terrifying deterrent power and strength... No matter how brave a warrior is, it is difficult to muster the determination to fight such a thing. After all, the existence of this creature itself challenges human cognition and common sense, enough to arouse the fear in the hearts of normal people.

Its movements also revealed a stiffness that could be described as rigid. If it weren't for the constant rise and fall of its massive, twisted chest, one would almost think it was some kind of ingeniously crafted prank.

"How about it? I'll leave them here if you need them."

All the lords had fallen silent, but after calming down, they were all staring at their commander with the same subtle and peculiar gaze. After a long period of stiffness on his face, Samir finally uttered a single word, as if squeezing it out from between his teeth:

"it is good,"

As soon as he finished speaking, he glanced subtly at Julius beside him:

“You have indeed surprised me quite a bit… but is it really a good thing to be tainted by such a vicious power? It’s more foolish than quenching thirst with rattlesnake venom.”

"That's true, but we have no choice. We have no choice whether it's dirty or smelly. After all, who would be picky about whether they're drinking sewage when they're about to die of thirst? I only know that it can temporarily quench my thirst, even if it leaves behind terrible poison."

The king remained expressionless, and even appeared somewhat stiff.

The author will reconsider.

Someone got married here today, and the author helped out all day. Now he's so tired he can barely keep his eyes open (||?_?)

Furthermore, I'm still finding the upcoming battle scenes a bit difficult to arrange, especially with the addition of monster units... I'm currently looking for inspiration in Total War: Warhammer... So I'm taking a break today, and I should be able to finish it by tomorrow... (ε??)

331 On the Eve of War (4)

The sound of a sharp blade cutting into bone is a dull, sticky sound, muffled by flesh and blood, losing its inherent crispness. Only when a bloody limb is severed and falls to the ground does the truth of the cutting become clear.

Tuo Moyi didn't bother to attack the opponent whose shoulder he had severed with a single blow. With his sharp intuition, he almost awkwardly lowered his head to dodge the spear thrusting from above. At the same time, he kicked his warhorse hard in the belly with his right foot, causing the beasts that he had been with day and night to instinctively lean to the right.

His opponent's handling of the warhorse was clumsy in his eyes, far inferior to that of the Curist warrior who had grown up on horseback. So even with a spear, he found an opportunity to get close. The saber that he had been holding at his side was like the sharp fangs of a viper, stabbing fiercely and cunningly into the gap under his armpit.

With the attack successful, the Assele man could no longer endure the pain and devastation. He let out a scream and fell from his horse, where he was then trampled into a bloody pulp by a troop of galloping horses.

This was a fierce and brief battle among the light cavalry, usually small in scale, with at most a few hundred men entangled, but exceptionally cruel and bloody. Every second, someone was thrown from their horse; every second, someone's limbs were severed and blood was spilled on the spot.

They are the eyes of the army, vying for the right to scout out the enemy forces for their respective commanders. The losing side will lose this crucial field of vision, which will undoubtedly be extremely detrimental to their subsequent battles.

Such battles often end quickly, and it was clear that the Empire's light cavalry were rapidly gaining the upper hand with their armor and discipline, gradually tearing apart the enemy's formation in the bloody carnage and driving them out of the high ground.

Tuo Moyi led his squad in another fierce charge, dodging the enemy's blade in the instant they galloped past on horseback. At the same time, he used his sharp blade to stab the opponent's side ribs, cutting through flesh and breaking bones with the sound of shattering chainmail rings.

He knew the patterned brass helmet belonged to the captain of the reconnaissance unit. He also knew the enemy would soon crumble from panic and casualties. So, before he even lowered his sword, his left hand had already drawn his bow, ready to give chase.

In fact, he had already begun to do so—the leather cord attached to the iron ring at the end of his saber was firmly secured to his little finger, without affecting his movement of turning around and drawing his bow. The arrow he released shot directly behind him and accurately struck the back of an Assele man's head.

His men followed suit, unleashing a volley of swift and powerful arrows to deliver the final blow to their opponents, completely crushing the Asel tribe's cavalry and sending them scattering in disarray as they galloped away on horseback.

The pursuit naturally began, but it didn't go too deep. He simply drove the remnants of the enemy further away before immediately regrouping his troops, counting the dead and wounded, and collecting heads and spoils.

The final result made him frown—the losses were too great, at least twice as much as he had anticipated… This made him spit out his anger.

"Someone must have lost their mind and gotten separated from the formation again! Formation! Formation! How many times have I told you? How could anyone forget!..."

Even as he was incessantly berating his men, he didn't forget to send a small team to relay the intelligence they had gathered to the rear. The main army was gradually approaching, and they needed to scout out any possible ambush locations.

Discipline flows in the veins of the Imperial Legion, even among these light cavalry who were once nomads of the grasslands. They are not immediately driven to the battlefield after receiving their equipment, but are instead subjected to the same discipline training until they understand that even the roughest coordination is better than the fiercest recklessness, and learn to fight in disciplined formations.

This training was grueling, but they managed to pull through... and it seems worth it now, at least they defeated an opponent almost as numerous as themselves in a short period of time.

Now, looking at the billowing yellow dust behind the mountains in the distance, he was certain he had found his target…

--------

His situation was probably the strangest in the entire history of the kingdom...

Riding a sturdy red steed, Alva gazed at the scene before her with a complex expression. She found herself amidst an endless imperial army. Everywhere she looked, there were red uniforms and banners. The gleaming swords, spears, axes, and halberds reflected the sunlight, offering no warmth, but thirsting for flesh with chilling malice.

This was a well-organized army, currently on its way south. Banners fluttered in unison, and bugles and war drums sounded in the distance, guiding the army's advance through a specific combination and rhythm. Everything was orderly and without any errors.

Her servants were not allowed to attend to her. All around her were Imperials with wary and probing eyes, ensuring that she was completely under the Empire's control and would have no chance to do anything else. Even when the army set off, she would be taken with her and watch helplessly as the army attacked her own country's forces, unable to do anything.

This was a terrible torment for a responsible general and lord; her heart was tormented every minute... Especially since she was in the midst of this large army, knowing a lot of crucial intelligence but unable to pass it on, which made her extremely anxious.

With her experience and wisdom, she could deduce many things from the constantly shifting cavalry and moving military formations. These things might even help her country win the war! But she could do nothing but watch helplessly, anxiously twisting the reins of her warhorse in her hands.

The feeling is like a thief who accidentally breaks into the king's treasury, steals a large bag of jewels, and then hears the guards rushing towards him, only to find that he has no way to leave... The anxiety and despair are truly torturous.

The girl was so caught up in a jumble of thoughts that she had no time to think about anything else. She let the imperial servant beside her lead the warhorse forward, and her body, through long-established instincts, subconsciously maintained its balance.

She wore a shiny and neat suit of armor, with an extremely fine chainmail lower layer and lamellar armor protecting the middle of her thighs upper layer. Her legs and feet were covered with wide, curved iron plates attached to leather, engraved with patterns of wild beasts and flowers. Her helmet was a pointed helmet that protected the back and sides of her neck.

This armor from the Empire was simpler than what she usually wore, but its protective effect was even better. The tough steel formed the most reliable defense, enough to render sharp blades and arrows ineffective, showcasing the exquisite craftsmanship of the Empire's artisans.

Just by touching the armor, she realized many things—it wasn't custom-made for her, but it still fit her well, because the country even categorized armor by size to ensure it could fit the body types of most soldiers and could be replaced promptly if damaged.

She knew perfectly well that Asler could never do that, not even the wealthiest lord could…

This gave her a glimpse into the terrifying nature of this country, like touching a towering mountain peak through the clouds, or facing a surging tide slowly pressing down on it. Its power was evident in every corner, and its terror was manifested in every aspect.

What should she do?

A thunderous roar drew her attention. When she looked up in slight panic, she saw the central banner issuing new commands. Countless horns and war drums sounded, causing the entire army to begin to stir.

They had undergone their final rest and preparations; every soldier was full of energy, every animal had been fed, and every warhorse was ready to fight… Now, they had located the enemy's trail, and it was time to seize victory.

Now, the distance between the two armies is quite close.

332 Manifestation

Before going to war, imperial generals would always come to offer sacrifices, even if they were certain of victory in the war. They would still come to express their respect and pay tribute to the war and the law.

The worship of the goddess Fusgrina holds an unquestionable position throughout the empire. This nation, forged by war and law, is like the goddess's earthly kingdom. Although there are many other beliefs, even more diverse than in other countries, everyone respects this goddess. Smoke always swirls and offerings pile up before the statue of the goddess of war and law.

Such a scenario often brings high status and power to the priests of the gods, because they are the ones who reveal the will of the gods, and naturally have a strong appeal and influence. Even nobles who hold great power have to consider the will of the people.

But this situation will not occur in the Empire. No matter how respected a priest is, he cannot defy the emperor's will in the slightest... The high priest, who has been in this position for 12 years, knows this very well—it is not so much that what they preach is the will of the gods, but rather the will of the country and the emperor. Only by understanding this can a priest survive in this position for a long time.