Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

The man carrying the axe sighed, wiped the water droplets from his beard, and straightened his back. He took two steps forward and came to a carriage whose rear wheels were stuck in a mud pit.

"This damn road, this damn rain, everything in this lousy place is working against us, it's fucking awful!"

A strong hand gripped the back edge of the carriage, then pulled and pushed it forward forcefully. Accompanied by the whip lashing the horse's rear, the immense force combined to propel the heavy carriage out of the mud pit with a loud crash, splashing up countless clumps of mud as it continued forward.

"There probably won't be anything good tonight. Maybe we should go deeper into the woods and search again?"

"Let it go. The team leader said not to cause any more trouble before we reach our destination. We need to keep a low profile as much as possible."

"Sigh, I really miss the good days of the past two days. We hadn't even had enough time to stay in the barracks we built there before we had to set off again in the rain, giving away the locals a free ride. I even thought about going to their village and asking them for some money."

"The leader is right. We're not going to keep dawdling. After all, we've taken the money, so we should keep our word... Anyway, we'll reach the next rest stop soon, so we'll talk about it then."

"But isn't our route a bit off-center? I was here three years ago, shouldn't we be resting in Princeton? Why does it seem like we're heading further south?"

"Who knows? Anyway, the entire eastern part of Salanod needs us. It doesn't matter where we go. Just listen to the commander."

360 Leap (1)

Fear is a strange thing; it exists to some extent in everyone's heart, like a black seed waiting to sprout. No one can say they are without fear. Even if someone does appear to be fearless, it's only because they can control their inner self and haven't encountered anything truly worthy of their fear.

This sentiment is undoubtedly beneficial to human development. It drives an individual to spontaneously stay away from potentially dangerous places and creatures that may threaten them, thus making it more likely to pass on their genes.

However, it can also cause huge obstacles at times, bringing terrible mental pressure, making it difficult to remain calm and composed, making it easier to make mistakes, and at other times making people shrink back and hesitate.

...So what was I afraid of that day?...

The imperial army's camp stretched out neatly and solemnly across the wide plain, firmly securing the key points of several major surrounding roads. The seemingly endless stockade walls were made entirely of thick, double-sharpened wooden stakes, sturdy and imposing. Even the fastest galloping warhorses would only crash into them and die, unable to cause the slightest disturbance.

Like a bustling town that suddenly appeared, the camp was teeming with people, warhorses neighing, and soldiers and auxiliary troops pulling carts or carrying supplies along the roads, as well as grooms and laborers. They would clear out the huge camp before dawn, thus ending the legion's several days of rest here and preparing for the upcoming advance and battle.

Coordinating them is an undeniably arduous task, requiring immense energy and considerable wisdom. This responsibility naturally fell to Talina, keeping her busy from last night until today, leading a large number of staff and officials to coordinate the operation of the entire legion.

Few in the entire army were able to stay idle. Even Carila personally dismantled her own barracks. Colin, on the other hand, received a somewhat delicate mission—to escort their prisoner, Alva, the daughter of the enemy legion commander, out of the area.

This was not a difficult task. Their prisoners had no strange intentions and were quite cooperative, having already packed everything up. All she needed to do was escort them away from this plain area, while the cavalry would continue to escort them for the rest of the journey.

Moreover, she does prefer things like going out without having to put in too much effort in her current state... at least this way she can calm down her anxious mind a little.

As he rode his warhorse through the camp gates into the plains, proceeding along the widest and flattest road, Colin couldn't help but think of the day the war ended... and a twisted, sharp, bitter, and angry feeling quickly arose in his heart.

Karila was always so frank and direct, never hiding her feelings. So she would do whatever she thought of and speak her mind when she wanted something. That's why she could ride that tall black horse and also fall asleep in his tent when she was tired.

Talina is always reliable and reassuring. With her around, no matter how complicated the situation, there are no worries, allowing them to focus on the war and figure out how to defeat their enemies.

They won that great battle so beautifully and so thoroughly that everyone, despite being exhausted, still cheered and jumped for joy, proudly despising the fleeing enemy, and feeling proud of their achievements and victories... At that time, she dragged her tired body, filled with anxiety and anticipation, and rushed to the central army camp under some strong impulse.

At the time, she didn't even know why she had such an impulse. She was just anxiously searching for the other party's whereabouts after the bloody battle. After learning that the person was safe and sound, she had an irresistible urge to see him, to see Thesolius, to see him with her own eyes, and preferably to talk to him.

There was no problem at all; even the guards let her pass without any hindrance.

...But she ultimately didn't go there...After seeing Karila sleeping soundly in his bed and him draping his cloak over Talina, a strong sense of fear and bitterness immediately drove her away, causing her to hesitate for a moment, then bite her lip and turn away, choosing what could be described as a weak retreat.

Even now, she still doesn't understand what she was so afraid of back then, or why she panicked to that extent...

"call…………"

Colin let out a long sigh, stretched his shoulders, looked at the lush forest and the birds and animals around him, forced himself not to worry about gains and losses anymore, and tried to shift his attention to other things.

It's springtime, and although most of the winter chill has left, a small lingering twilight still remains, liking to strike unexpectedly at times, giving those who think they can rest easy and be carefree a taste of their own medicine.

The birds and beasts in the forest also take advantage of this season of rejuvenation to reproduce and grow their populations. In order to harvest in the forest for a long time, even the greediest hunters will release the mother animals and their cubs during this season. This is a common practice and a unique harmony.

When large herds of warhorses pass by on the road, the billowing dust and heavy hoofbeats always startle a flock of birds, causing rabbits and mountain rats to dart out of the grass in a panic. In the chaos, a vibrant scene of life bursting forth is created, with some even rushing headlong into the road in their confusion. Every now and then, a few unlucky ones are trampled to death by the horses' hooves, becoming nourishment for the land and other creatures in this season of revival.

At the end of the forest road, Colin reined in his horse and finally turned his gaze to their silent captive—the dark-skinned beauty, Alva.

The other party's silence even made her feel a little uncomfortable, as if she were walking alongside a wooden stake. Her entourage, on the other hand, were all on high alert, deeply vigilant and tense. Now that the group had stopped, they subconsciously pulled their warhorses closer together.

“Miss Alva, according to the orders I have received, I will temporarily take you here. They will continue to escort you on the rest of the journey, so please do not worry about your safety. The roads and plains around here have been thoroughly cleared by our army, and both bandits and remnants of the army will try to stay away from this area.”

As she spoke, out of a habit from her past as a hunter and warrior, she began to subconsciously scrutinize the other person with a sharp, inquisitive gaze.

She was undoubtedly a beauty, and even the most prejudiced person would find it hard to deny that. Whether it was her silky smooth skin, her lustrous, jet-black hair that shimmered with the sheen of satin, her delicate eyebrows, her swan-like long neck, her bright, deer-like, eagle-like eyes... every feature was perfectly proportioned, naturally captivating people.

Such an appearance, combined with the other person's silence at this moment, inexplicably revealed a strange melancholy. The longer the silence lasted, the more obvious this melancholy became, like a foggy morning with no sunlight.

"Thank you for your hospitality. We still have a long way to go, so we won't linger here any longer. Please return, Commander."

Colin nodded, finally withdrawing his scrutinizing gaze, and watched as the other person continued along the road until they disappeared from sight.

But beauty could not sway him, and that man never showed any mercy to enemies who had not submitted; he only displayed his ruthlessness and decisiveness.

...For some inexplicable reason, Colin found that his mood had indeed improved a bit, quite inexplicably...like sticking his head out from under the covers, he breathed a sigh of relief.

------------

The man frowned, sighed as he looked at the twisted blade of the axe in his hand, and immediately tried to salvage it—trying to bend it back into place in a huge crack in the rock.

This is a subconscious action, reckless enough, but most of the time it will serve a purpose, at least to restore the blade of the axe to a straight edge, so as not to affect his efficiency in chopping.

But today, he encountered a small fraction of those outside the majority.

boom!

The quenched axe was hard enough, but because it was a battle axe, it wasn't as heavy as a lumberjack's axe. It couldn't withstand the man's sudden increase in force and broke off at the junction of the soft and hard steel, shattering into four or five pieces, which made him stagger.

One of the pieces even grazed his face, leaving a bloody scratch on his rough skin. Looking at the half-finished axe in his hand, he had no choice but to throw it away and instead prop a long pole from a nearby wooden stake over his shoulder.

He had even lost an axe on his trip, which made him spit in frustration. He then threw the long pole into a pile on the ground and began to tie it together with rope.

The man named Basur had a full beard covered in dew, and the fleas living there seemed to be unhappy about the change in environment. They would occasionally crawl out from between the hairs to show off, causing itching and dandruff, forcing him to stick his fingers in and catch these vicious and mischievous little creatures whenever he had the chance.

Once you catch them, these things with their soft shells bring a unique kind of fun... when they are crushed, they make a rather crisp sound, as crisp as two horseshoes clattering next to your ear, only much quieter.

This was a pretty good pastime for him... second only to drinking large amounts of beer and going to brothels to play with women—the latter was rare and cost money, while the former was readily available, free and unlimited, and those wicked little things never abandoned him, always able to be found, using their own lives to bring him that kind of sizzling pleasure.

A passing doctor once suggested that he wash his fur with a juice made from sage and mustard to get rid of fleas. He was surprised when the doctor refused, clearly indicating that he had never enjoyed such a rare pleasure. Compared to that, what did a little itching and blood matter? It wasn't even enough to disturb his sleep.

…………

The weight of the more than 20 wooden stakes, each as thick as a bowl, was not to be underestimated. Generally, it would take an animal to drag them away. However, Basur simply grabbed a rope from the ground, wrapped it around his shoulder, and turned to start walking.

The sounds of logging echoed throughout the surrounding forest, and mercenaries were chopping down logs of this size everywhere. However, no one else was as fast as Basur. He was the only one who quickly collected the logs and broke an axe, and now he was hurriedly dragging them down the mountain.

He didn't know what these things were for—they already had enough wooden frames for setting up tents and supports, and the damp wood wasn't suitable for burning, plus it was extremely heavy, so even if they got some, it would be almost useless.

But this was their commander's order, and Diyur never joked about such things. He always knew that what he asked them to do would have some effect, so they had no doubts and began cutting down stakes in the surrounding forests before they reached the border city.

The descent requires extra caution. The continuous rainy weather this season makes the grass and roads slippery, and one wrong step can result in a tumble. Some unlucky ones might even break their bones and have to ride in a carriage to make the journey.

When he returned to the camp and dumped the large bundle of logs on the ground, the people around him seemed to anticipate his arrival and jumped back a couple of steps, successfully avoiding the splashed mud. They also greeted him with some typical gestures and words, which he responded to without a care, while wiping his beard.

………………

In the upper right corner of the camp, there was a tent made of tarpaulin, slightly larger than the other tents. At this moment, the mercenary leader, Diyul, stood here, thoughtfully stroking his chin.

People gradually returned from the mountain, most of them in groups, dragging bundles of wood through the mud, eventually gathering at the huge pile of logs in the camp, until the sun began to set.

"At this rate, we should be finished by tomorrow afternoon... I wonder if this method will work. I hope that old Pete, that foul-mouthed bastard, won't screw us over..."

"You can rest assured about that. Although that old man is a bastard, he wouldn't dare to lie about this. He really did walk this path."

A bald head, glistening from the rain, emerged from the nearby tent, and Samor also looked up at the gloomy sky:

"Hopefully this rain won't stop in the next few days, otherwise we'll be in real trouble..."

361 A Leap (2)

"I really don't know why they make us cut down these wooden stakes! We can't burn them, we can't use them, and they've made my back almost break."

The axe was driven deep into the root of a straight pine tree, but because the user lacked strength and the axe blade was too thin, it got stuck. He had to use a lot of effort, shaking it left and right and pulling it up and down, to barely pull it out. He almost fell to the ground. Finally, unable to suppress his confusion and resentment, he couldn't help but complain to his companion next to him.

His companion was in much better shape—the guy had broad, sturdy shoulders and arms, and although he wasn't tall, he looked very strong, which was indeed the case… The tree trunk in front of him, which was as thick as a thigh, had already been chiseled open, and was now being cut down from the other side, in preparation for felling the tree.

"You'd better stop dawdling, Dolores. Everyone has to bring back 10 today, and you're still halfway there. Stop complaining. The leader said he'd take us to get rich, so he definitely will. When has he ever lied to us? Besides, it's not like only our group does this."

With a loud crash, as the axe severed the last fiber of wood that could support the weight of the tree trunk, the towering trunk and its crown slammed heavily to the ground, scattering mud and debris. Some dry branches and leaves broke off and fell during the process.

"I just don't understand... The camp is already piled up like a mountain, every wagon is overflowing, what are we going to do with so much stuff? This would be enough to build a whole barracks, right? We're not going to have to rely on this to build our own barracks, are we?"

"It's not impossible. Don't you know what those gentlemen are like?"

"...Damn it, look at my bad luck."

He finally stopped complaining, picked up the axe in his hand and continued chopping at the tree trunk. Before long, he was covered in sweat, and when the damp, cold wind blew, he couldn't help but shiver.

"If I could earn more money this time, I could use it to build a house for my family, so that my son won't have to work as hard as I do, struggling to find food with an axe when he grows up..."

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

Stress is something invisible and intangible; often, only the person experiencing it can clearly feel its weight, and they become exhausted and anxious because of it.

The mercenaries could easily notice that their leader had been acting strangely lately. The better-tempered ones would just drink more alcohol in silence, while the worse-tempered ones would curse and swear at the drop of a hat, pacing back and forth as if their feet were on fire.

The only exception among them was Dijour. Even in the mercenary profession, which requires exceptional courage, boldness, and confidence, he was undoubtedly a top performer. Not only did he orchestrate this astonishing operation, but he also remained completely calm and collected before actually taking action, keeping the thousands of mercenary groups completely in the dark.

After a few days of getting to know each other, the other leaders were completely convinced of his abilities and would seek his advice first when encountering problems. Unbeknownst to them, Diyuer had become the leader of everyone, leading them to prepare to do something big, something that would allow them to transcend their class and embrace power and wealth.

Long ago, Diyul realized that he could not become a respectable person through his own efforts. Being a mercenary was always precarious, and one wrong move could cost him his life... In the worst case, an entire mercenary group could be wiped out, and the employer wouldn't even have to pay.

Every year, countless children from ordinary families join the ranks of mercenaries. A large portion of them bleed themselves dry on their very first job, and when they die, that's it; they leave nothing behind.

If they are lucky enough to survive one war after another and accumulate enough skills, they can become a decent old mercenary, at most joining a mercenary group and becoming its captain... until one day they are too old to fight anymore, and then die like dogs, living out their lives in a daze.

Even if they can earn more than ordinary people, very few of them can save up. After all, for mercenaries, if they die the next day, the money is useless. But now that they are enjoying themselves, they are truly enjoying themselves. Newcomers who have just joined will quickly learn to spend all the money they earn on alcohol and women, living for the moment until the day they grow old.

Such a life can be seen to its end at a glance, and there will be no change whatsoever... People like them can never have power, and can never become nobles... Of course, there will be exceptions, but they are so rare that he is too lazy to mention them.

A mercenary leader like him is generally at the limit for a commoner. Even military officers and captains earn far less than him, yet he is still forced into such a desperate situation by a king's order, and has no choice but to desperately try to make connections to survive.

Of course, the situation could have been even worse. If it weren't for the information that Rat gave them, they might have been sent to the East in a daze, only to realize they were being used as cannon fodder before being driven to the battlefield, where they would have died under the swords and hooves of the Imperials, and they wouldn't have had to pay the remaining commission.

In a way, Dijour even felt he should thank the King of Salanod—if it weren't for that damned red-haired butcher pushing him, he might never have had the guts to do such a thing, nor would he have ever had such an opportunity... or even realized he was capable of doing it.

He had long heard about the unique nature of the Empire—that commoners there could truly become nobles, as long as they could achieve enough merit and make enough contributions to their country. They could earn their own fortune with sword and blood, and it was not impossible for them to become one of the most powerful people in the country…

Of course, this is still a minority among the vast number of Imperial soldiers, but it is tempting enough—because it means hope, even if the hope is small, but it is real and achievable. It is a path that does not depend on bloodline or family, and can be paved through one's own efforts and bloodshed... That alone is enough.

Moreover, he had no other choice at all; now he had no choice but to take a gamble.

………………

Normally, he would never venture into such a ravine during this season... Low-lying areas like Salanod are prone to collapse and become filled with mud during the rainy season.

Even the most greedy hunter wouldn't venture here during this season, but he had to grit his teeth and continue along the almost indistinguishable paths, never daring to let go of the bushes beside him for a moment, lest he slip and tumble down the damp, muddy hillside.

To be absolutely certain, he removed all his armor, put on a patched black tunic, and carried a satchel wrapped in oilcloth—containing enough dry rations and wine for half a month. Thus he set off on his journey, trudging eastward along the barely discernible, rugged path through the mountains.

The mission he bore was so heavy, yet so captivating... Upon hearing his brother's plan, instead of falling into doubt and panic like others, he immediately became excited and completely immersed in the vision described by his brother... It was precisely for this reason that Diyul entrusted this task to him, because only he was the most trustworthy and the most foolproof.

He will traverse these mountains, reaching the lands of the empire, to find the most powerful general there, and present this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to him, who will certainly not refuse... After all, what soldier could refuse such an honor? Just as a hungry wolf would not refuse a piece of bloody, juicy meat falling in front of it.

And they will use this opportunity to soar to great heights, rising from lowly, penniless mercenaries to become true big shots! They will also possess glory, power, and status!

This alone was enough to make him risk his own life, and everyone else's life, to do this. After all, how could a person live a mediocre life? Dujur's brother, Blatche, believed this from the bottom of his heart and was prepared to face any difficulties and obstacles.

"Damn, I hope Old Pete doesn't screw me over... Is this really a safe route?"

But no matter how ambitious he was, looking at the almost 60-degree sloping mud slope in front of him, he still had deep doubts... especially since he could see the mud mixed with stones at the bottom of the valley that had been soaked by rainwater when he looked down.

But in the end, he dared not delay any longer. If the rain continued, there might not even be a path left, and then he would really be helpless.

"If I fall and die here, I swear, old Pete, I'll haunt you with this sword ass as a ghost..."

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

Old Pete was completely unaware of the curse someone had cast on him. In fact, he was currently panting and frantically scratching his head, trying to recall and think things through.

"To be honest, I took that route five years ago... I followed a guy who smuggled goods by hiding at checkpoints twice, but he was unlucky later. He got caught for something else while selling goods in the city, and within two days he was hanging on the gallows and swinging on a swing."

"I'm not sure about the exact route, but it's definitely passable, and as long as you're careful, you're not likely to fall and die. The guy who led me down this road was also driving a donkey, since he can't carry much by himself."

"It's just that this season is particularly dangerous. I guess a lot of the roads have been washed away by the rain, so we have to be more careful when walking."

Dijour sat opposite him, listening to him speak while scribbling on parchment—this kind of paper made from lambskin was incredibly expensive; just one sheet was enough to cover a person's daily food expenses. He wouldn't have used it if it weren't for something important.

And so it went, until old Pete was hoarse from talking and could think of nothing more to say, that he finally put down his pen.

He, as the leader of the group, was one of the few among the thousands of people here who could read and write, and he only knew the language and script of the Kingdom of Windeg—which he had learned when he was a young man apprenticing with a merchant. But in the end, he still chose this path of making a living with swords, so many things depended on his hand.

"Very good, what you said is quite useful. If this succeeds, you will definitely get a share of the benefits... But don't forget to keep your mouth shut. I only told you this because I know you are usually careful and cautious. Otherwise, if it leaks out, it will all be over, understand? If I find out even the slightest bit of information leaked from you... then I will have to skin you alive."

Old Pete nodded repeatedly, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and a deep-seated excitement, occasionally sticking out his dry, white tongue to lick his lips.