Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

Turials, the commander of the Imperial Capital Garrison Legion and one of the Thirty Elders, stood five meters behind the Emperor, taking in the entire magnificent view... It was a truly pleasing sight, especially considering the unparalleled noble status of the person before him, making this scene even more rare. However, he dared not raise his head, his entire face stiff with fear and tension.

"Please forgive my incompetence, Your Majesty... but there is indeed nothing unusual in the capital. I have ordered my men to conduct thorough patrols, but..."

The emperor nodded slightly. The sun shone on her face, reflecting a texture and luster like white jade.

“That’s good. Maybe I’m being too suspicious… You know, Turials, it hasn’t been easy for us to get to this point. We’ve trudged through a thorny path full of traps. You’re a capable person, which is why I made you the commander of the Capital Garrison. But we can’t let our guard down, or there will always be someone who wants to drag us down from our current positions… Do you understand?”

The overweight middle-aged man's curly hair jiggled, and his entire body looked as stiff as if his joints had been poured with molten lead.

"I understand, Your Majesty."

"Then go, don't waste even a second."

After bowing again, the man slowly backed away until he reached the outside of the garden's circular archway, before turning and leaving.

A black ornamental fish swam slowly past the emperor's ankle. Among the jet-black scales on its back, one was a dazzling gold stripe that ran from head to tail along its entire spine, shining brightly in the sunlight. Each of these fish was selected by the gardeners and servants from hundreds or even thousands of the finest ornamental fish, each with its own unique characteristics. Even the rejected ones were enough to fetch an astonishingly high price... However, the emperor rarely paid attention to them, only visiting more frequently during this period.

"Is he trustworthy?"

Ingersoll stood beside the Emperor the entire time, her hands resting on the tip of the Moonblade Axe, her fingers occasionally tracing the cold steel. Her magnificent armor made her look like a golden statue, almost blocking out the sun on one side. Facing the still silent Emperor, she asked such a presumptuous and offensive question almost without restraint... As a guard, it was quite dangerous to try to discuss things that were not his business, but fortunately, this was an exception for her.

The emperor was not surprised at all. He didn't even turn his head, but remained silent for a moment before speaking:

"I hope I can trust him. After all, he was the one who left the village with us, and he is indeed quite capable. He has been a great help in getting us to where we are today..."

Turiars was originally just a butcher in the village, and a very skilled one at that. He took over his father's business, slaughtering pigs and cattle in various places to earn a meager living. Occasionally, when he saved up some money, he would buy a livestock, slaughter it, and sell it. He was considered quite well-off in the village, a stark contrast to the three of them who were penniless and barely had enough to drink. However, when they decided to venture out into the world, he unhesitatingly abandoned his family's slaughterhouse and sold it to another butcher in the village. With that money, he went out to make his way in the world with them.

This seemed like an unimaginably foolish decision at the time. After all, who could make the decision to abandon their stable life and gamble on a future that was likely to lead to poverty or even death? But even the most reckless gamblers rarely had the guts to do that, yet he did it anyway.

In the early years, the three young men knew almost nothing about the outside world. If it weren't for the experienced, shrewd, and cunning Turials, they would probably have suffered a lot... Although everything that happened later proved that his judgment was absolutely correct and his choice was arguably the wisest decision in the entire history of the empire, even Natamus secretly wondered at the time why this guy, who clearly wouldn't suffer any losses, would follow them through hardship? Wouldn't it have been better to live an easy life in his hometown, with plenty of meat to eat every now and then?

"You have some doubts about him?"

The emperor nodded slightly, his expression becoming inscrutable.

"What is the reason? Is there any conclusive evidence?" Ingersoll pressed for an answer, and after a brief hesitation, the Emperor turned to look at her:

"Some signs aroused my suspicion... but I didn't have any concrete evidence. To be more specific and accurate, it was intuition—"

"Intuition?" Ingersoll's expression was somewhat puzzled, and he seemed hesitant to speak, but the Emperor had already nodded:

"That's right, it's intuition. It may sound a bit strange and far-fetched, but I often have this intuition, and it has helped me more than once."

"Whenever someone with malicious intent, or someone who threatens or plots against me appears near me, I get this revelation-like intuition. It's hard to explain, but it's almost never wrong. It's not specific, but it makes me feel uneasy."

Ingersoll almost frowned:

"So when did you begin to have doubts about him?"

"Just now."

"Just now?!"

“Yes, just now…did you notice? Ingersoll, he was terrified of me, and his hands and feet were trembling with fear, as if he wanted to run away at any moment.”

"Perhaps it's because he failed to complete Your Majesty's task and is therefore afraid of punishment? This is indeed understandable given his duty, especially since Your Majesty has just ordered the stripping of an elder's honor and status, punishing him for dereliction of duty and corruption."

"Perhaps that is indeed the case, which is why I did not order you to arrest him on the spot... I only gave him a slight warning, hoping it was just my suspicion as the emperor acting up."

Under the bright sunlight, the roses and hydrangeas, which had been specially arranged to form a long corridor, created a cool shade. The emperor got up and walked into it, and Ingersoll immediately followed.

"But no matter what, I can't trust him as much as I used to. Maybe I should tell my henchmen to keep an eye on him..."

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

The carriage hurried through the streets, gliding smoothly on the flat road. The curved steel plates at the bottom of the wheels, after being hardened, could not directly bear the weight but reduced vibration, providing a more comfortable environment for the passengers. Even the driver's seat had the same design, making it difficult to throw the passengers off even when the horse was galloping at full speed. The carriage and the supporting beams were made of tough and sturdy mahogany, carved with grapevine patterns but without any color filling, making the whole carriage look rather plain and unassuming at first glance. However, a closer look would reveal that this vehicle was quite valuable.

Turias sat in the middle of the carriage, his face grim as he sipped his wine, gulping down the icy liquid. After finishing one glass, he would immediately pour himself another from the exquisite wine jug, as if a thirsty person were drinking water…

414 The Emperor's Suspicion (2)

Icy fine wine is always one of the easiest things to bring pleasure in this era. Whether commoner or nobleman, soldier or slave, as long as one's tongue can fully savor it, this simple and direct joy is hard to be taken away.

As long as you drink enough to make your head feel dizzy, many troubles will be temporarily forgotten. From this point of view, there seems to be little difference between fine wine and spirits, except that the former is easier to drink. Once you drink to that extent, they have the same effect.

But for Turias, the fine wine from the Central Valley in his glass did not distract him; it was merely a thirst-quenching drink, its rich aroma washing over his mouth in waves, attempting to alleviate his thirst, which was not caused by dehydration.

His fingers were still trembling, chilled by what he had just witnessed... He had never been so close to death before. In the eyes of the powerful emperor, his life or death was just a matter of a word... or perhaps not even a word, just a glance.

Although Ingersoll was a woman, no one dared to underestimate her in the eyes of the palace guards… This woman from the north was undoubtedly a powerful warrior. Anyone who dared to insult or question this would die a horrible death… She even went to the arena to have some fun when she had nothing better to do, and her axe had chopped off no fewer than a dozen beast heads.

At least he was powerless to resist the other party, just like a plump melon that has no chance against a blade. If the emperor really wanted to kill him, he wouldn't even realize what was happening before his head hit the ground.

The emperor's reprimand seemed inexplicable, even cruel and ungrateful, after all, he had been a loyal follower of the emperor since his humble beginnings... Of course, all of this was based on the premise that he was truly innocent, and it was precisely because he knew that he could not be considered completely innocent that he was controlled by fear and trembled uncontrollably.

In that instant, he almost collapsed to the ground, thinking that the emperor had indeed obtained the relevant evidence and was about to behead him in the garden.

Fortunately, everything turned out alright, and he returned alive... The moment he left the garden gate, he forced himself not to run forward with an almost superhuman willpower, forcing himself to walk out slowly at the most steady pace, until he got into the carriage, and then he began to drink heavily.

His heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to jump out of his throat. His face was pale and he was covered in sweat. He didn't even notice that the bottle in his hand was empty. He was still subconsciously making the motion of pouring wine and subconsciously gulping air into his mouth. His mind was a mess, as if a swarm of wasps had been stuffed into it, each with its own thoughts and each one running around in all directions.

The carriage made little noise as it passed through the streets. The roads in the imperial capital were as smooth as ever, and each block had its own officials responsible for maintenance. But because of this, with the silk curtains drawn, he had no idea where the carriage was and could only make a rough judgment based on the time.

He finally breathed a sigh of relief when the carriage came to a complete stop. After waiting for a while, he heard knocking on the carriage from outside.

He cautiously pushed open the carriage door, jumped down, and walked forward with his head down. The surrounding area had been cleared out, and there was no one there except for the soldiers of the garrison.

They passed through the gates without stopping for even a second in the courtyard. They walked through the garden, around the pond and fountain, and entered the luxurious mansion decorated with marble.

The moment he entered, he took two steps forward and sat down in a chair in the center of the hall. Before he could even catch his breath, he waved everyone away, leaving only a servant to pour him wine.

The bottle of wine he had just drunk was barely enough to quench his thirst; now was the time to truly enjoy the wine.

The wine flowed from the bottle into the golden glass, but it was not the blood red color commonly seen in wine. Instead, it was a clear and beautiful sky blue, with an indescribable psychedelic feel. If you looked closely, you could even see some thin mist drifting from the liquid and resting on the rim of the glass.

The color of this glass of wine was so striking that one might even doubt whether it was truly wine at all… But Turias accepted it without hesitation, tilted his head back, and took a sip. Before he even put the glass down, he turned and leisurely began to speak:

"His Majesty has begun to doubt me."

The servant pouring his wine trembled slightly, but quickly regained his composure and continued standing to the side, only his mouth moving slightly.

"The imperial capital is indeed not to be underestimated. We only made contact with you a few months ago, and we didn't expect that His Majesty the Emperor had already noticed something amiss... So what is your decision?"

Another glass of wine was gulped down. The man swallowed hard, his face grim, and after a long while, he looked up at the beautiful mosaic glass.

"We can't wait any longer, we must start immediately! Any delay will lead to utter ruin, that's true for all of us... I hope you can make this clear."

"Understood." The servant pouring the wine nodded gently. "You are the last living son of Emperor Igulus, and for that alone, many people are willing to support you, as long as your resolve never wavers."

“Heh…” Turiars sneered. “What a bunch of loyal subjects…”

Another glass of wine went down, but it was like kerosene that ignited the flames in his heart, burning his internal organs with waves of pain, making it almost impossible for him to breathe... An indescribable pressure was tilting towards him, almost crushing him completely... Deep inside, a voice was frantically shouting at him, telling him not to do anything foolish.

But as the wildfire burned brighter and brighter, the sound grew fainter and fainter until it disappeared completely, leaving only his increasingly heavy and obvious heartbeat, which felt like it was about to tear his chest apart.

He had made the decision long ago. Before he had completely abandoned everything from the past, he had already kept something dangerous in his heart... and the conversation a few months ago was just watering the poisonous seed, which was bound to grow on its own.

Power is like seawater; the more you drink, the thirstier you become, and the more thirsty you are, the more you drink, even if it means leading yourself to your death.

He still vividly remembers the moment his mad father fell from the tower—the emperor's purple robe was stained with blood mist, its ornate patterns blurred by blood. As it fell through the air, it resembled a plucked bird, and then, like a water bag, it splattered everywhere on the ground. The magnificent robe that once represented supreme power was now like a tattered rag stuck to the ground and flesh.

How jubilant the Senate must have been! They celebrated overthrowing the tyrant and believed they could govern the country without an emperor… But just two short years later, they proved their greed, incompetence, and shortsightedness. They immediately began to fight and antagonize each other, like a pack of mad dogs drawn to fresh meat, tearing each other apart with blood and fur, making the vast empire unstable and almost on the verge of collapse.

In the end, they accepted the emperor that old dog Scripps brought... Now it seems they regret it quite a bit.

………………

He reached out and snatched the bottle, tilted his head back, and drank straight from it. Because his throat was too slow to swallow, the wine dripped from the corner of his mouth and soaked into his clothes, staining his silk robe with a light blue hue.

This was not enough to quench his thirst, and the fire burned even more fiercely.

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

A fine whip should be woven from strips of cowhide of uniform thickness and toughness cut from a single piece of cowhide. It should be as flexible as a snake and as strong as a steel wire. When it is pulled out, the end should make a crisp sound, like a thunderclap on a clear day.

Ordinary people rarely needed such whips unless they had a horse for transportation, rather than a mule, donkey, or ox. For the craftsmen who produced these whips, their customers were mainly mercenaries and soldiers, especially cavalry, who always contributed the largest orders.

Sardis was intently using a blade with a locking mechanism to cut the leather to the width he needed. This finely treated leather was both soft and resilient, and it wasn't too stiff when cutting, allowing the blade to glide smoothly through.

When these leather strips are woven together to form a whip, he also needs to oil and tighten them with just the right amount of force to ensure that there are no gaps between each strip, so that it will not come loose or crack due to loss of moisture.

The handle of the whip is made of a shaved walnut wood covered with a thin layer of leather and wrapped with silver wire. Through skillful techniques, the silver wire is incorporated into the leather strip during the weaving process to ensure good control when wielding it.

The very end must be made of the toughest cowhide strips, and sometimes several strands of steel wire are woven into it – this is the very end where the force is transmitted, and it must be made durable.

Serdis was engrossed in his work until the dryness and pain in his eyes stopped him from staring at them any longer. He sighed, leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his eyes.

It was already late at night. Outside the window, among the weeds, crickets were chirping and showing off their skills, while fireflies danced on the tips of the grass, searching for their prey—usually large, plump, white snails, which would become completely paralyzed by the toxins of these luminous insects until they were sucked dry.

Performing such meticulous work by the light of an oil lamp on such a night was bound to put immense strain on his eyes, but Celdis needed to earn money to support himself, a reason so righteous and irrefutable that he had to overcome all difficulties.

The house is passable; at least it doesn't leak air or water. Although a lot of the paint on the inner walls has peeled off, and all sorts of insects are roaming the house, it's still quite comfortable to live in, as long as you ignore those flat, shelled creatures that crawl into your blankets.

Tonight is the last night. Tomorrow morning he will drive his mule-drawn cart to deliver the goods to town—a total of 100 whips. The money he earns will be enough for him to live comfortably for the rest of the year.

Finally, he reached out and grabbed the two topmost leather strips, pulling them twice. The squeaking and rubbing sounds and the oozing of oil seeping into the leather fibers were almost inaudible, but he was able to accurately judge the appropriate amount of force based on his experience... Novices often tear the leather at this step, which doesn't necessarily mean they've failed, but the final product will definitely be much less valuable.

Finally, he deftly finished the whip with his fingers, making the tip of the whip look like a beautiful tassel. He nodded in satisfaction, stretched the whole whip out to check it carefully to make sure there were no crooked or uncoordinated parts, and then coiled it up from the base and put it into the box next to him.

With a pang of heartache, she blew out the precious oil lamp, then covered it with a small shade to prevent mice or other insects from stealing the oil. She then groped her way to her bedside, lay down wearily, and pulled the blanket over herself without even taking off her clothes.

Exhausted, he soon began to snore softly. The only sounds in the room were the rats crawling under the bed and on the legs of the cabinets, and the sparse antennae of pests that liked to live in damp places.

The man was still in a dazed state, half asleep and half awake, when a series of hurried footsteps shattered his dream. Then, accompanied by rapid and fierce knocking, the wooden door of the courtyard outside began to shake violently.

After a while, the man finally came to his senses, stood up with a somewhat displeased expression, and prepared to open the door... But the moment he stepped out of the room, his hand had already reached a whip hanging behind the door, and with a nimble flick of his wrist, he hid it behind his waist.

The door was still being vandalized, but the intruder never uttered a sound or made any attempt to explain their purpose. They simply kept knocking, the rapid noise and the scraping of wood carrying far into the darkness. Apart from that, everything else in the night seemed quiet.

Serdis frowned cautiously... He had already realized that the situation was strange and not good...

415 The Crucial Strike (1)

The whip in his hand was unlikely to cause much harm, but no one wanted to be lashed twice. He believed that this would drive away any malicious people... However, when he opened the door, he didn't see any vicious thugs or ferocious drunkards, only the town mayor staring at him, pale-faced, his lips trembling, unable to speak. He just kept banging on the door, even after it was open, one hand still slowly knocking in the air, as if he had been so frightened that he had lost the ability to think.

"Mr. Nanyat, what's wrong?"

Seeing a familiar face outside the door, he silently withdrew his hand from the whip, looking at the other person with some doubt. A sense of foreboding welled up within him, like seeing someone with a bruised and swollen face and suspecting there are wasps on the nearby branches. Seeing someone so terrified that they were numb and demented, he felt a chill run down his spine as well. Even the moonlight seemed unsafe, casting a frost-like glow on his skin, sending a cold shiver down his spine.

But the mayor didn't answer him, continuing to knock on the door like a fool. Frustrated, the mayor peered out, looking left and right but finding nothing amiss. Finally, he gritted his teeth, raised his hand, and slapped the mayor across the face.

"Snapped!!"

Despite deliberately holding back some of his strength, he was a hardworking craftsman with well-developed muscles in his hands. The blow immediately left several red marks on the other man's face, his head tilting slightly to one side, and his eyes regaining their clarity: "Ah!...Ah!—Right, Saldis! Quickly pack your things and run! Lautos and his family, who are logging in the forest, said they saw the army coming, hurry!!"

It was like a cold needle piercing his temple; his mind instantly cleared, his hands and feet began to tremble like the mayor's, his lips quivered and he couldn't speak, and cold sweat had already soaked through his hair in the blink of an eye.

"What are you standing there for? Sardis! Grab all the valuables, we're going to hide in the mountains to the west, everyone has to go, quick!"

The mayor, now sober, grabbed Saldis by the collar, shook him violently twice, and shoved him forward, sending him stumbling towards his house. He himself turned and rushed out the door. Meanwhile, he had organized many young men in the village to go door-to-door, but no lights were on… This was also to avoid attracting the attention of the army passing through the village. For the civilians, their only way to survive was to slip away quietly into the mountains before the army noticed them.

But how could such a sudden situation in the middle of the night be handled cleanly and efficiently? After all, the town was inhabited by ordinary artisans and civilians, far from possessing the exceptional organization of soldiers. Even if a group of people were notified in advance, they would always procrastinate, hesitate, and not want to give up anything, wanting to take everything, caught in a dilemma at home… This was a cruel reality for them. If they left too much at home and were looted, even if they returned home, they would be penniless. Who could bear to give up the life they had worked so hard to build? But if they continued to linger here, they might lose their lives and their possessions…

As night fell, chaos was spreading through the town, slowly and irresistibly destroying the order of the past.

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

The lumberjacks of Salanod would gather in small groups and then cut down trees in the forests under permission. Before completing a quarter's work, they would live in the forest, and it was because of this that they were able to witness that terrible sight—the army that lowered its flags, carried its horns, and marched in formation through the jungle.

Lautos is 56 years old this year, the kind of person who has one foot in the grave. In this era, to be able to live to this age without illness or disaster, and to be in relatively good health, and even to have raised three sons, is undoubtedly a lucky life... but not so lucky here, after all, having three sons means paying three times the taxes, which forced him to join the logging industry with his three sons at an early age to earn money as soon as possible to make a living, and even now he dares not let his sons get married, because that would require paying an additional marriage tax.

My only wish now is to save up enough money for my three sons so they can start their own families and build their own careers. That way, they can escape their current miserable situation and perhaps even accumulate a fortune like those respectable businessmen.

But now, he realizes that the future he once thought was promising is about to vanish...

The first to notice the anomaly was Collins, who lived on the very edge. His rented house was a makeshift shack—a pit dug in the ground, surrounded by a few wooden stakes, covered with vines, and topped with waterproof thatch. It was enough to make anyone live there, but in winter it would surely freeze to death. However, the weather had been just right for the past two days. It was he who noticed the anomaly coming from afar, which woke everyone up. They left their original camp, walked past the tree stumps they had cut down, and finally arrived at a dense beech forest on higher ground.

At first, some people complained, but after they also noticed the commotion in the distance, everyone shut up and huddled into the bushes in a fearful wait. They waited until dust rose at the horizon where the forest met the sky, and silver armor and red uniforms gleamed under the moon. An endless river of steel pressed down from the horizon.

They were all speechless with astonishment; if an insect had the chance, it might have even flown into their throats. But before they could even recover, the enormous, raging fire on the distant hillside completely shattered their last shred of reason—everyone living on this land knew exactly what that place was: the castle perched atop a small hill, teeming with soldiers, an extremely formidable stronghold. Its tall towers were gradually tilting and collapsing amidst the flames; even from miles away, they could see this scene.

The cavalrymen, their armor gleaming, surged forward in a massive column, leading the charge across the road. Their silver armor and red cloaks shone brightly against each other. Aside from the inevitable sounds of their horses galloping, their armor clashing, and their shouts, not a single person dared to whisper. Every single person, every animal, and every single thing in the army moved forward at breakneck speed, as if they existed solely for the purpose of advancing. Although occasional mishaps occurred due to the darkness of the night, these were quickly suppressed and resolved by their officers, ensuring that this vast army never ceased its advance.

They stared in disbelief at the scene, completely gripped by primal fear. For a moment, Lautos even felt that the army before him wasn't composed of living people... but rather a terrifying entity formed from the tangled and aggregated parts of some kind of inanimate matter. As they advanced, all he could see was destruction...

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

"You deserve credit, and it should be a significant one."

The raging flames illuminated half the sky, and the enemy who were still resisting inside finally suffered the most tragic fate. They were set ablaze along with the buildings by fire oil bombs. The horrifying screams carried far through the night sky, and even the roar of the flames could not drown them out. A nobleman with a deathly pale face was dragged by armored soldiers all the way from the other side of the hillside to this place. His feet, which were still wearing casual shoes, were covered in mud, and his soft, close-fitting silk pajamas were also covered in blood and weeds. He had almost become a beggar.

The soldiers in this castle weren't some elite force known for their unwavering loyalty and strong will; they too were startled by the large army that appeared before them. Yet, they still believed that the castle, built on a strategically advantageous and easily defensible position, would help them achieve final victory, just as they had always done. Enemies besieging the castle often succumbed to prolonged sieges, dwindling food supplies, and declining morale, ultimately forced to retreat in desperation…

But this time, after they refused to surrender three times in a row, only burning oil bombs, like divine punishment, crashed down like meteors, instantly setting half the castle ablaze. Their already wavering morale collapsed completely. Only the count, in a panic, tried to escape through a secret passage, but he easily fell into the trap the cavalry had prepared in the mountainous area near the exit. He was tied to the horse like a fat pig and brought here.