Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

But he knew very well what value this little guy had... This unassuming little creature possessed remarkably sensitive hearing, enough to detect even the slightest movement of a lizard in the grass dozens of meters away. No one could approach it without alerting it, allowing sorcerers to rely on its vigilance to confidently complete their objectives in many threatening areas.

Up until now, it has been in a drowsy and lethargic state, which means that there is no danger around... or to be precise, it has not had any room to exert its abilities today, as the area around the camp has already been repeatedly patrolled and searched.

Seeing the little creature smile slightly, Thesolius turned around to look for the figure in the cotton dress. He found that the girl who had just been sketching a design on a fern in front of him was gone, leaving only the footprints of her deerskin boots in the damp mud.

Driven by some instinct, his eyes turned dangerous, and he gripped the hilt of his sword at his waist. He took two steps forward, squatted down beside the footprints, and examined them closely. After observing the changes and movements in the grass, he determinedly chose a direction and walked forward without hesitation.

This is a forest next to the military camp. Because of all the things that have happened recently, he chose this place to relax as a precaution. Military horses pass by here day and night, and soldiers patrol regularly. Not to mention that the jailers and hounds have already swept the surrounding area several miles away several times. In theory, there should be no threat.

He knew this in his heart, but he became inexplicably anxious, and his brows gradually furrowed. The sharp blade at his waist had unknowingly reflected its cold light into the surrounding grass. With just a light swipe through the grass, the extremely sharp blade had already cut through the branches and leaves.

He was like a lion roaming in the jungle, having unknowingly sharpened his claws and teeth, ready to tear his prey apart... but he sincerely hoped he would not have such an opportunity to vent his anger, not at all.

The footprints continued forward, the leaves and weeds trampled and scattered along the way, forming a fairly clear guiding path in his eyes, leading all the way to a dense thicket. Many of the branches and leaves had dried up and fallen to the ground, clearly indicating that someone had passed through them.

The blade flashed an arc, instantly severing large sections of the supple shrub branches, easily clearing a path for him and ensuring his footsteps made no sound from scraping. It also dispelled much of the darkness in the forest with the light from the other side.

He made almost no noise as he passed through the dense bushes. During this time, he could already hear the gurgling of water, its tinkling sound clear and melodious, and he could smell the dampness from dozens of steps away.

Stepping out of the jungle, a breathtaking view unfolded before him—a gently sloping meadow, where colorful wildflowers grew among blades of grass of roughly the same length under the sunlight. A stream, only five steps wide, flowed across the meadow, stretching into the distance.

“...You made me worry for a while, Talina.”

At the edge of the forest, he finally saw the figure he was looking for. Tarina was sitting intently by the stream, staring at the slow, clear, and sparkling water.

"Ah... sir, I just saw something interesting, so I came all the way here. Look at this!..."

Her long, pale blue hair cascaded down like a skirt as she turned her head, shimmering like glass in the sunlight. The smile on her lips was a clear and pure joy that momentarily stung his eyes.

It's so rare... this kind of pure joy... I haven't seen it in a long time. They've really been involved in the war for too long, and it's time for them to take a break.

With a wave of his hand, Tersolius accurately placed the scimitar into its sheath. He then adjusted his quiver and bow pouch before slowly walking over to the girl and standing beside her, looking down at what she had pointed to.

It was a small patch of something that looked like a blue mushroom, with round caps like mushrooms, except that these caps were separated by 12 slits. The stem below had a texture that looked like it was covered in scales, and it got thicker as it went down, extending into the soil and branching out into slender branches.

These little creatures grew in dense swarms along the edge of the stream, in that tiny patch of narrow mud where the grass met the water, swaying gently in the breeze.

"Look at this, sir."

Tarina smiled and extended her finger, gently poking the center of one of the canopies—like touching a cobra with its head as it basks in the sun. The canopy folded up instantly like a fan, shrinking into a sharp cone shape with astonishing speed, like a predator's vicious bite.

This scene was truly astonishing, since although the pile of things was brightly colored, it should have looked like a mushroom... and as everyone knows, mushrooms generally don't move.

Tersolius was now completely intrigued. He squatted down and, like Talina, extended his finger and gently tapped the largest one.

Clap!

After a soft rustling sound, the round canopy shrank back into a pointed cone shape, and a small piece of pale blue bun spread out with the shaking, drifting downstream on the breeze.

This direct, fast, and fun feedback is very addictive. So after the first attempt, he had no intention of stopping. Instead, he continued to tap one spot after another on his side, creating a series of tapping sounds.

Talina also smiled and started lighting the unknown blue mushrooms on her side, teasing them. A smile appeared on both of their faces at the same time. It was a pure, undisturbed joy, simply from the pleasure of being amused, as light and gentle as the first rays of sunlight shining on seedlings in the morning.

There were quite a few mushrooms, but they eventually reached their limit. So, as expected, their hands met and they almost simultaneously touched the last mushroom.

They were already quite familiar with each other, and Tersolius had seen Talina's hands more than once—hands that were fair and slender but not delicate. They had handled countless potions, written their names on countless parchment pages, cut flesh, separated bones, stitched up bloody wounds, and injected potions into the body through the veins… all of this would leave various marks on her fingers, like a book that wears down after frequent reading.

Talina had seen Tersolius's hands many times—like the hands of every warrior, they were broad and long with hard calluses, having absorbed the qualities of swords, spears, and bows and arrows in the course of their lives. The moment she touched them, she could almost feel the same hardness and sharpness.

As expected, the last mushroom shrank back, but the two of them kept their fingers outstretched, their index fingers interlaced.

Tarina remained silent, but it was not a shy silence. Her face was calm and firm, containing a kind of gentle courage, indicating that she would no longer easily avoid her feelings.

And so, the girl stretched out her slender fingers and slowly grasped his palm, pressing his rough, hard sole against her fingers. Then she looked up at him with her bright eyes:

“You know, sir, I’ve always considered myself a lucky person… because even though the place I lived in was destroyed, the people I knew were slaughtered, and I experienced many terrible things, I still met you, met someone like you who avenged the innocent who were slaughtered… From then on, I was no longer afraid, because I knew that I was ultimately a lucky person, and that I was always being protected.”

"It is an honor to meet you, sir."

Thesolius blinked slightly. He could almost hear his own heartbeat, the sound of his strong heart pounding, his blood rushing through his veins like a horse being whipped, the sound rustling in his ears.

The blue mushrooms slowly began to return to their original state, while Talina quietly approached and slowly but firmly rested her head on his shoulder, her dark blue hair falling like tassels down his clothes.

After a few breaths, the girl let out a sigh:

"I think I will never leave you from now on, I just hope you won't get annoyed."

Tersolius's arm stiffened for a moment, then he gently embraced the slightly trembling body beside him, pulling them closer together with a slight squeeze of his shoulder.

“I don’t think I’ll let you go either. I won’t anymore. If Talina disappears on her own, I think I’ll have someone bring you back. No matter where you hide, I will find you because I won’t allow it, that’s all.”

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

The round-headed little owl on the branch slightly raised its eyelids, turned its head 180 degrees to scan around behind it, then turned back and rotated 180 degrees to the other side again.

Hidden beneath its thick downy fur, its unexpectedly long and flexible neck helps it achieve this, while the large tympanic membrane and well-developed auditory organs beneath the feathers help it detect even the slightest movement.

After spinning around nimbly twice, the little guy showed some confusion in a rather human-like way. Its pale yellow beak opened and closed a couple of times, but it still didn't let out a warning screech. Finally, it moved its paws again and returned to its previous position.

421 Fury (1)

As the sun was about to set, the earth was shrouded in darkness. Only the area above the horizon was still illuminated by the sun, which burned like blood. The rest of the land was already dark, just one step away from entering true night. Everything seemed to be shrouded in a blurry filter. Even things that were very close looked hazy. Even the most hardworking person would relax at this moment, because this was the time to rest.

Logically speaking, it is not suitable to do any delicate work under such lighting conditions. If you force yourself to do it, it will damage your eyes, unless you light a torch to increase your own light, or you are so skilled that you can complete the task by touch alone, even without light.

For Colin, making arrows was a task he began in childhood. For mountain people, arrows were far more than just weapons; they were a means of production, a shield for survival, and a symbol of their struggle against the harsh yet generous nature. Children growing up in the mountains might not know any other weapons, but they absolutely had to learn archery. Making arrow shafts from suitable wood and collecting feathers in the forest were skills as fundamental to them as eating and drinking.

The vertically grained wooden board had been split into thin strips, which were now placed into the grooves of a thick wooden board. By simply using a concave planer to push and pull, the irregular square strips could be shaped into round arrow shafts... This process required some skill and patience. Only by observing and adjusting from time to time could a suitable and regular shape be cut, which was crucial to the arrow's flight posture.

As the sound of the blade cutting through wood filled the air, darkness fell completely. Although she could determine the exact shape with her fingers even in the dark, there was no need to strain her eyes. So Colin reached out and pulled the oil lamp from the other end of the table, then went to the campfire outside, found a burning piece of charcoal, lit the lamp, and continued her work.

This was originally the work of military craftsmen, but now that she held such high power, there was no need for her to do it. The arrows she was issued were of excellent quality, not to mention the great bow and the 30 feathered black arrows that Tersolius had captured for her on the battlefield some time ago. Those were top-grade weapons intended for high-ranking officials and nobles; they were no longer commodities but rather works of art, their quality being unprecedented… However, now that she had them in her hands, she was reluctant to use them. After all, no matter how good the quality of the arrows, they would eventually break. Every shot was a gamble of loss and possibility, and using them to shoot sturdy armor would only increase that probability…

Using standard-issue arrows was somewhat awkward for her. Although the differences were extremely subtle, sometimes those subtle differences could make a world of difference between hitting and missing. So now she used the finest arrowheads forged by the military craftsmen, paired with arrow shafts and feathers she made herself. After careful adjustment, the weight was just right for that magnificent longbow, and penetrating the weak points of heavy armor was as easy as piercing a layer of soft leather with a knife. Moreover, she could easily shoot an armored soldier in the eye socket from dozens of paces away.

Once the arrow shaft is planed smooth and rounded, with the taper and diameter just right, a soft cloth wrapped with sandpaper can be used to polish it by rubbing it back and forth. Then, a small groove is cut at the tail, and a piece of polished cow horn is inserted into it. This prevents the arrow tail from splitting under the strong pressure of the bowstring. The groove that is actually inserted into the bowstring is cut vertically along the cow horn and made into an open shape that is easy to see the string with a knife.

Then, you can use warm water to melt the leather glue and attach the feathers. The feathers are goose feathers that can be collected in large quantities. They have already been split, sanded, and trimmed into suitable shapes. They have been ironed with a hot iron sheet. Once the position is determined, they can be directly glued on. However, they are not strong enough before they are completely dry, so you need to wrap them with silk thread to reinforce them. To prevent the silk thread from being worn off, you need to wrap a layer of birch bark around the arrow tail and the tip of the feathers, and then apply lacquer with added dye. This will create a beautiful and exquisite arrow. You can also draw patterns and designs on it according to your own preferences.

The standard unit of arrows in the empire was a dozen or thirty arrows, ten dozen made a group, and ten groups made a unit. Every archer and light cavalryman who shot arrows on horseback would carry two dozen when going into battle, and millions of arrows were transported during major battles... But she only needed one dozen, and she worked on it from dawn till dusk, even refusing Tersolius's invitation for it, and just stayed in her room alone, burying her head in making arrows.

The mountain people are always surprised by their leader's recent negative behavior, which is completely different from before, but no one dares to ask him any questions. The last person to do so, Kochkin, was thrown out of the window. Everyone present saw it clearly and naturally understands that their leader doesn't want others to ask about it, and they can't help him with anything.

The young lads were still clueless, but some of the more experienced mountain people had already guessed what was going on. They knew that their leader was in a state of confusion, and that this confusion was understandable... So they could only sigh and pretend they didn't know.

As for Colin, after the war ended, she entered a state of pessimism and confusion. As the army continued to advance north, she even began to deliberately avoid Tersolius, afraid to face any man due to some complex and pessimistic mentality.

She realized her feelings early on. After all, Colin, who came from the mountains, was never a coward. She dissected her heart like she was dissecting a wild beast, seeing every single detail clearly. But it was precisely because of this, and precisely because she saw it so clearly, that she felt sad about it.

The arrowhead burned in the red flames, then she picked it up with steady precision and thrust it into the hole drilled in the shaft. As white smoke rose, the two, which were not quite right before, were firmly joined together, never to be easily separated again, until the day it broke through the human body.

She liked Dr. Tarina very much; such a gentle and kind person deserved everyone's respect. They had traveled from the south to the north together, fought bloody battles in that city, and fought side by side to conquer the east and south...

In just over a year, she saw more than she had ever seen in her entire life before. Every day she broadened her horizons and witnessed a world that was completely different from her previous one—a world of great diversity, wealth, and splendor… Even the grand and bloody war fascinated her.

She loves everything she has now, and with a touch of greed, she hopes it can stay this way. She doesn't want anything to be destroyed, yet she can't deceive herself...

Beside the burning oil lamp, the lacquered arrow shafts gleamed warmly in the firelight, while the steel arrowheads flashed with a cold light. Outside, a few barks echoed as a patrol, leading military dogs and carrying torches, dispelled the ghosts of the night.

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

“These arrow shafts are all rotten! Those lazybones must not have applied insect repellent properly. Feather mites are spreading in our armory, and we must clean it up immediately.”

The man with a messy red beard listened to his quartermaster's report with a gloomy expression. His fingers unconsciously gripped his beard and twirled it around his fingertips. This rough action quickly caused a lot of his beard to break off and fall sparsely onto the table, making it look like the table was covered in mold.

The servants of the surrounding forces became even more cautious. They knew very well that this was when the king's temper was running high, and at this time he was often happy to vent his anger on the servants who didn't know their place. Minor mistakes that would normally only result in a scolding would usually be beaten half to death, or even lose their lives.

"The rainy season is almost over, but there has been a lot of rain these past two days. The damp environment has affected our weapons and armor. Just a rough inspection revealed that at least ninety barrels of arrows have become deformed due to the dampness, and another 30 barrels have been eaten by feather mites because they were not coated with enough insect repellent. Now only the iron arrowheads are still intact. Repairing these will cost at least 92 more gold coins."

Redbeard Yotserro's movements as he twirled his beard became even more violent, and his brow began to twitch, while the quartermaster continued to read aloud the results of his investigation in a measured tone:

"497 steel swords were twisted and loose, 1,047 axes were badly rusted... and some old stock weapons were completely unusable and could only be melted down and reforged."

"Two-thirds of the armor in the inventory has rusted, and 42% of the steel crossbows need to have their arms replaced, otherwise there is a risk of them breaking and injuring people. About half of the long polearms have problems such as dampness and twisting, insect infestation and corrosion, rust and loosening. It will take the blacksmiths at least two weeks to complete all the repairs... This also means that we will have to postpone the start of the operation again."

Redbeard Yotsero curled his knuckles and began impatiently banging his fingers on the table, making a loud thud. A servant carefully approached and poured him a glass of fine white wine, making sure not to spill a drop, which allowed Yotsero to withdraw from the scene.

He picked up his wine glass and took a large gulp, as if he were gnawing on something. The red-haired king waved his hand impatiently.

"That's enough for me! Tell those lazy blacksmiths that I only have seven days to deal with these issues. If anyone is still dragging their feet and not getting things done by then, hang them on the gate! If they keep dragging it out any longer, the Emperor of the Empire will be getting married!"

He grumbled incessantly, his complaints directed at his quartermaster. It seemed nothing could please him: the scheming nobles, the constantly causing trouble soldiers, the slow-witted craftsmen, and the tax-evading commoners! ...

It sounded like their king was harboring a tremendous rage, but the quartermaster listened calmly... because he knew very well what Redbeard Yotserlo would be like when he was truly angry; he was just complaining now. After all, although the situation was troublesome, it hadn't reached the point of being out of control.

"...Oh, right, what happened to those guys who took my money and dared to run away? I sent out a whole battalion of soldiers, why hasn't anyone brought me their heads yet?!"

The complaining king suddenly remembered his previous arrangements, and the quartermaster immediately replied:

"The roads are terrible, Your Majesty, extremely terrible... so we can't estimate their speed using our usual methods, and therefore no news is expected yet—"

"Urgent report! Urgent report! I need to deliver this to His Majesty the King!"

The quartermaster had only spoken half his sentence when hurried footsteps suddenly came from outside the door, followed by the messenger and the king's guards who had stopped him, offering anxious explanations. This made the quartermaster, who had been calm all along, stiffen his expression.

"Just let that young man in; no need to announce him."

The king impatiently called out towards the door, and soon the heavy oak door was pushed open. A figure dressed in a red shirt, yellow trousers, and brown leather boots appeared before them, with a leather bag slung across his shoulder, a wool hat with a rolled brim adorned with three red feathers, and the royal coat of arms embroidered on his chest.

This is the royal messenger of Salanod, who in most cases has the highest priority right of way. The army and nobles will give way to them, and the messages they convey are always the most important and crucial.

"Alright, tell me now, what's wrong this time? Which idiot is trying to cause me trouble again?"

The king tapped his fingers rapidly twice on the table. The attendant beside him came over again to pour more wine, then, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, retreated to a corner and hid behind a tall lamp.

The messenger had clearly arrived in a hurry, still panting heavily, but he didn't dare to stop and reached into his bag to rummage through it. He quickly pulled out a piece of parchment rolled into a tube shape, with the sealing wax stamp intact, firmly securing the binding rope.

"This is urgent intelligence from the rear, Your Majesty, top priority!"

The quartermaster stepped forward and took the letter, then waved for the messenger to leave. He turned and handed the letter to the king, but the red-bearded Yotserlo impatiently tore off the sealing wax and rope the moment he received it, and frowned as he read it.

Time passed minute by minute, but the king's expression grew increasingly stiff, and the muscles in his cheeks tightened taut... yet he remained silent.

The quartermaster involuntarily took a step back—he knew all too well what that meant…

422 Fury (2)

Oil was bubbling in a small bowl on the stove, emitting a somewhat pungent smell. Pulgen gripped his longbow, staring resentfully at the damp ground outside. He showed no intention of going out.

His bow was made of elm wood. Although it wasn't the best material, it could still shoot quite good arrows. The ends of deer antlers were inserted to hold the bowstring. Standing on the ground, it was half a foot taller than him. When the bowstring was drawn, it looked like a spear. It was his means of earning a living and making a living.

Longbows like these can withstand changes in climate, provided that the bow is properly maintained, like this: a mixture of animal fat, rosin, and wax is heated in a small bowl on the stove until it boils, then wool is used to apply it and quickly rub it across the longbow and bowstring to form a dense, shiny, hydrophobic layer that prevents cracking and mold.

This is something he does every now and then, but never before has he been so resentful, and the reason is simple—he didn't get the money he expected.

Longbowmen like him were recruited from all over the kingdom, and the king offered them generous pay—six friars a day. To put that in perspective, a skilled bricklayer earns at most three a day, and an unskilled helper earns at most one and a half. It was precisely because of such a considerable reward that they gathered from all over the country to serve the king.

His true loyalty was not to the king but to money, but now, because of the persistent rainy weather, even the wealthy Redbeard Yotsero could no longer afford to pay the stagnant army every day, so he announced that everyone's pay would be halved before setting off.

This was precisely why he gritted his teeth and was full of complaints. He felt that every day that red-haired bastard would reach into his wallet and steal a few shiny coins. Everywhere in the camp, you could see soldiers complaining and cursing. Everyone was full of resentment towards their king.

What's worse is that their food is getting worse and worse. When they first arrived, they were able to eat their fill of bread and drink soup with minced meat every day. But now, because the roads have been washed away by rain and transportation is inconvenient, they can only eat moldy bread infested with insects and drink soup made from potatoes. They huddle in dark and damp houses or tents, complaining about the awful weather and the stingy king.

The oil in the small bowl on the stove had begun to boil. He rolled up a ball of wool, dipped it in to soak up the oil, then placed the longbow on his shoulder and stepped on it to begin maintenance. He reapplied the oil to the areas where it had dried, and at the same time, he soaked the bowstrings, which were woven from long hemp fibers, in the oil.

Raindrops drifted in from outside the door, splashing onto his face. He frowned, grumbled, and shifted his position slightly backward, pulling the small stove back to prevent rainwater from getting into the oil. He tossed aside the longbow he was already oiling, fished the bowstring out of the grease, and carefully squeezed the excess grease back into the bowl with his fingers, letting it solidify so it could be used again later.

He subconsciously pulled on his bowstring to tighten the tangled fibers. This was something he had done countless times. He would do this frequently after the bowstring was braided to prevent it from failing at a crucial moment.

But even he didn't expect that after just two gentle tugs, his hand would feel empty after a brief moment of tension. With a crisp snap, the sturdy bowstring broke, leaving him stunned for a moment.

The broken part of the bowstring was the ruptured fiber, the oil and wax used for maintenance had seeped into it, but the bowstring still broke just like that... It broke quite cleanly and decisively, catching him completely off guard, and it reminded him of the gamble that had cost him a month's salary.

"Damn it, all sorts of bad luck have befallen me!"

He grumbled as he tossed the useless bowstring into a corner, then pulled a spare one out of his hat. Bowstrings aren't afraid of moisture; after being coated with wax, they can even be soaked in water for two days before being used. However, they are very afraid of drying out, and his oily hair effectively kept them in top condition.

He strung one end of his longbow on the bowstring, held the other end in his hand, pressed down on the middle with his knee, and at the exact moment the bow reached the desired curvature, he inserted the string loop into the antler-shaped groove. After checking the tightness and the position of the string loop, he grumbled and loosened the string, then angrily leaned his longbow against the wall beside him.

"Shall we place another bet on the dice, Pulgen?"

"Get lost! I've already lost countless times to you, do you think I'd be stupid enough to fall for it again? I'd rather play dice with the king than play with you again, Safya!"

A high-pitched voice, like that of a male duck, came from the side. Without even turning his head, he cursed back and reached into his crotch to catch the lice that were biting everywhere, crushing the vicious bloodsucking creatures under his fingernails.

He couldn't remember how long it had been since he last took a bath. Of course, that wasn't unbearable. What truly made it unbearable for him was that the bustling market in the camp had been driven away by that crazy red-bearded man. All the vendors and merchants had been expelled, and a new market had been set up twelve miles away from the military camp.

Now he can no longer seek out special services or indulge in spending all his military pay, since such a trip would take a whole day and would surely be discovered by that neurotic king.

He had joined the armies of other countries before, but no army here was as strict as this one... Although such an order was only issued a month after his departure, it still made him extremely anxious and constantly complaining.

The roads outside were soaked and rotten by the rain, and your boots would definitely get covered in mud. No one wanted to go out in this kind of weather, but staying indoors all the time made him feel like he was getting moldy along with the house.

Based on past experience, the rainy season is almost over, and they will soon be heading to the battlefield. He sincerely looks forward to that day, hoping to escape this stale and suffocating existence and finally receive his military pay, which was withheld by that red-bearded bastard, according to the previous standards.