Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

The moment the words left his mouth, the crossbow bolt flew straight for the opponent's throat, but the dagger in his hand did not follow suit and thrust forward. Instead, it plunged into his own heart. He did not expect the crossbow bolt to hurt the opponent. From beginning to end, he only hoped to buy himself even a moment's time to have a chance to end things quickly.

Death had become a relief for him at this moment. With no other way out, he would rather end his own life than fall into this guy's hands and suffer terrible torture and an unknown fate.

Ding! Sizzle! —

The crossbow bolt struck the stone bricks on the wall, broke off against the hard granite, and fell to the ground. Just as his dagger was about to pierce his heart, a slight pain from his back caused a terrible numbness to surge into his head in an instant. His messy hair was suddenly grabbed by a glove, and he was pulled backward like a dead pig.

The fingers, completely exhausted, were unable to hold the dagger steady. The sharp steel fell to the ground, rolled twice, and landed directly in the sewage... From then on, it was destined to rust. Even the beggars who had lived here for so long probably wouldn't realize what was buried in that murky, foul-smelling sewage and garbage.

In the end, everything he knew was shrouded in darkness, and he sank completely into a terrible abyss.

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

The dry horse feed was ignited by a spark and then burned rapidly... The fodder, which had already been chopped and dried, was an excellent accelerant, and in the blink of an eye, flames soared into the sky, like a vicious wolf baring its fangs at the night sky.

The terrifying fire immediately attracted the attention of the surrounding residents. As the bronze bell in the center of the town rang, the stables were hurriedly opened, and all the livestock were driven out. People took turns working together to fetch bucket after bucket of well water from outside. They passed the water to the fire, where the tallest and strongest man in front poured it out in an attempt to extinguish the growing flames.

Of course, that was far from enough. The villagers who had gathered together began to move away the surrounding debris, use tools to beat out the scattered flames, or use hooks to pry apart the rapidly burning fires, doing their best to stop the fire from spreading.

No matter the era, fire is never a trivial matter... Flames bring civilization and warmth to people, dispel the cold darkness, melt steel, fire pottery, and cook food, leaving a deep mark on human civilization. But they can also wreak havoc and burn everything people have created in the blink of an eye, leaving only charred remains and ashes.

Especially in densely populated areas, if a fire is not controlled in time, it can easily spread and burn out a large area, completely destroying people's homes... Therefore, any rational person would not allow a fire to occur and spread in front of them.

Bucket after bucket of well water was splashed out by the man's strong wrist, spreading out in a fan shape in mid-air to cover as many of the burning areas as possible, constantly suppressing the gradually spreading fire—and they were not the ones actually fighting the fire.

The people clearing away the debris were working feverishly. Soon, they had cleared the area around the stables, moving all flammable materials to the other side of the yard. Then, those who had been using water to start a fire quickly followed.

They stepped back and allowed the flames to engulf the building in front of them.

At this point, everyone breathed a sigh of relief, believing that they had brought the fire under control—the stable was already beyond saving, and even if the fire were extinguished, it would be burned to a crisp, so it was better to just leave it alone and let the fire burn away the surrounding flammable materials to minimize the damage.

However, this was an absolute disaster for the innkeeper, because the smell of meat and burning stench coming from inside indicated that livestock must have been burned to death inside. He didn't know if it was the horse of a guest staying there, but he not only had to bear the original loss, but also had to compensate the other party.

At this moment, the innkeeper was pacing around the courtyard with a gloomy expression, kicking the ashes that had been burned to ashes while cursing and swearing. He watched with agitation as his stables slowly burned to ashes and the sturdy wooden frame gradually collapsed, endlessly cursing the guy who started the fire.

Regardless of whether there was any real evidence, he immediately confirmed that someone was definitely up to something... After all, how could a fire suddenly break out in the stable in the middle of the night?! There was no one living there, only a group of large animals. Could it be that the horses started the fire with their hooves?

The people who came to help gradually dispersed, and at this moment, it was still a dark night with bright moonlight and twinkling stars. People needed to rest well and prepare for the work of the next day. Finally, someone knocked on the door of a room on the second floor.

The guards on both sides of the house, clad in full armor, stared expressionlessly at the man knocking on the door until he received permission. Only then did they open the door and let him in. The passengers in the surrounding rooms were too frightened to come out, trembling and hiding in their rooms. Some even crawled under their beds, silently praying that they would get through the night safely.

But in any case, at least tonight, this otherwise unremarkable post station is destined to leave its mark on history... only now no one knows exactly what that mark will be.

434 Counterattack (1)

The atmosphere in the room was terrifyingly heavy, as if the air itself had turned into a substance harder than steel, driven by some force, crushing him into dust and meat patties, making it almost impossible for him to breathe.

The small room could only accommodate three people at most, but it was crammed with more than ten soldiers clad in iron armor. Although they only carried short weapons and bows and arrows, they were all sharp and fierce, and their eyes never left his vital points. As soon as they received the order, they could take him down immediately.

In the very center of the room stood the esteemed figure he was about to meet, clad in gilded iron armor and holding a winged helmet at his waist. He too was scrutinizing him with a playful expression, while his trusted confidants waited around him, their eyes gleaming with predatory intent.

He could certainly understand why... and he also understood his dangerous situation; if he couldn't explain himself clearly, he could easily be mistaken for an assassin and executed on the spot...

Tersolius looked up and sized up the man who had been sent to his room… somewhat anticipating what he would say—this was undoubtedly the captain of the henchmen, and only he was qualified to come and explain at this time; anyone else would be considered unreasonable and offensive, and would never be allowed to see the general.

He easily noticed the large bloodstains on the other person's clothes, which had stained the gray bodysuit with a wet black color. The two short swords he had given to the guards when he entered the room were also stained with blood that had not been wiped off, indicating that someone's throat had just been slit.

And so he watched as the man approached, until he was about three meters away, at which point the guards' blades crossed in front of him, preventing him from taking another step. The other three stood silently behind him, ready to strike with swords and axes at the slightest movement and cut him to the ground.

Without hesitation, the moment they were stopped, the captain of the hawk-hounds immediately took a step back, then knelt on one knee and bowed, pressing his forehead to his knee.

"My lord, I beg your forgiveness. I, an incompetent and foolish man, failed to notice the traitors in the ranks! They attempted to set fire to the houses to burn you alive, but fortunately, my negligence did not last. I discovered their intentions in time, and they have all been executed! There were six in total, and repeated interrogations have confirmed their identities."

“Our whereabouts have been exposed, and it is no longer safe here. There may be other assassins following us. Please allow us to escort you in another direction.”

The room echoed with the scraping sound of armor plates, and the gleaming blades scattered tiny spots of light throughout the room under the moonlight. Everyone awaited the judgment of the only person in the room with the right to decide... whether to believe him or to order the guards to cut off his head.

Captain Hawkhound also didn't know what his fate would be... but if he were in Tersolius's position, he would execute everyone without leaving any hidden dangers.

"Grab him."

A chill ran through him as his bodyguards pounced on him without hesitation, grabbing his arm, pressing down on his shoulder with one hand and lifting his arm high with the other. They forced him to kneel on the ground, unable to move, while simultaneously pressing down on the back of his knees.

"I don't know if you're telling the truth or not, but luckily I have a way to verify it. I'll leave it to you, doctor."

A girl with long, light blue hair stepped forward, took a glass bottle from her small bag, carefully sprinkled the green powder inside into her palm, poured out a small amount about the size of a fingernail, and then, to his alarm, splashed it all over his face.

………………

"Has any of you betrayed us?"

Looking at Captain Tersolius, whose mask had been removed and who appeared to be in a state of confusion and relaxation, he asked the question. After a slight pause to think, Tersolius replied:

"Yes, someone betrayed us. They set fire to the stables near the house, hoping to burn Lord Tersolius alive or force him out of the house so they could shoot him with crossbow bolts from a distance..."

"How many traitors were there in total? Who were they?"

"There were six people in total, a small team transferred from the capital. The leader was named Pulkins. We didn't capture them alive; they committed suicide by poisoning themselves after realizing they had been exposed..."

What do you want to do now?

The other person maintained that unwavering yet slow speaking pace, like watching a video slowed down by two times; there were no obvious pauses between sentences, but it was always difficult to understand.

"We must get Lord Tersolius away. Our location has been exposed, and more assassins may come to kill us. We need to change our direction and route to complete the mission quickly..."

He then asked a few more questions, and the other person answered them all, though there were noticeable hesitations and pauses on the more pointed parts, but the answers were all fine.

After confirming that the henchman captain was trustworthy, he turned to look at Talina beside him. The girl nodded slightly and took two steps forward, once again sprinkling the powder in her palm onto his face. After a few pauses in breathing, the lean, wiry man took a deep breath as if he had just popped his head out of the deep sea, then collapsed to the ground, convulsing and gasping for air. It took him a while to calm down.

"Thank you for your kindness and tolerance, sir... If you can still trust me, a sinner, please allow us to protect you as you leave. We cannot stay here any longer... No one knows if an army will surround this place, and then we will be powerless to help."

After catching his breath, the captain of the hounds struggled to his feet and again pleaded with Tersolius, earnestly requesting that the lord leave with them. He was frantic, fearing that his men would burst in at any moment to tell him that an army had appeared in sight.

"No need, just have your men keep watch around."

"But sir!—"

He was truly panicked now, and even jumped up from the ground—he simply couldn't imagine what the consequences would be if something happened to the adult in front of him! He really didn't dare to even think about it; any rational person with normal intelligence could realize that.

But Thesolius simply raised his hand to stop him from continuing, and then went on to repeat his command:

"Have your men keep watch around the area. Don't worry about it. Before dawn, you will see an army in sight. Their banners will be black with a golden double-headed eagle embroidered on them and golden tassels. You should be the first to see and greet them. That's what you need to do next."

The moonlight in the sky remained bright. Thales slowly raised his right hand, causing the iron armor covering his fingers to collide and rub against each other with the contraction of his muscles.

“I will not be manipulated by petty villains and flee like a stray dog, nor will I put myself in a passive position. I am here to destroy the rebels, so why would I hide under their conspiracy?”

“They are the ones who should be afraid, they are the ones who should be terrified. Their sins can only be washed away by bloodshed, and I will make their blood flow like a river.”

The captain of the hawk-hounds trembled violently, as if enveloped by cold steel. Under that oppressive and terrifying majesty, even breathing became difficult. He dared not utter any more objections and could only bow his head in agreement and go to make the arrangements.

Tesolis walked slowly to the window, put on his helmet, gazed at the bright moon in the sky, and began to tap his fingers lightly on the windowsill.

He wasn't in a great mood at the moment... but not because he had been assassinated. After all, he had faced many assassination attempts, and this time the assassin hadn't even seen him before being dealt with. It was just a minor, uneventful incident.

The real reason for his deep depression at this moment was that the rebellion had indeed broken out as he had predicted. He had long realized that there was bound to be a bloody conflict between them and the old aristocratic forces of the emperor and the empire. This was an irreconcilable and fundamental contradiction that could not be concealed by wealth and land, and would ultimately be resolved by swords and bloodshed.

Because he had anticipated this long ago, he separated a portion of his elite Golden Legion and left it within the Empire, along with his brother's elite cavalry and the forces cultivated by the Emperor... all so that if such a situation arose, he could quickly return to the Empire, take control of a trustworthy elite force, and, in the event that the main legion was unable to turn back, swiftly crush any signs of rebellion with overwhelming force.

Based on the intelligence sent from the emperor, he astutely judged the most likely intention of the rebels—the capital's garrison was no longer trustworthy, yet they controlled the defense of the capital and could genuinely threaten the emperor's safety…

Once the emperor falls into the hands of rebels or dies in the midst of war, the power they have built up over the years will immediately fall into division and turmoil, plunging the entire country into instability and unrest, thus providing the enemy with countless opportunities to exploit.

At that point, whether they launch a rebellion under the guise of rescuing the emperor, accuse them of being rebels, or even split the country and establish a new emperor... there are plenty of tricks and methods, and it will be truly impossible to control the situation.

The only saving grace is that, despite his relentless efforts over the years, he has finally conquered the Kurist people in the east, destroyed the Kingdom of Hols in the south, and directly annihilated tens of thousands of Assele's troops, breaking the biggest threat in the south and preventing it from daring to make any moves for at least several decades. In the end, he has freed the empire from the predicament of being surrounded by enemies on all sides and no longer has to worry about falling into the worst possible situation.

Now, he faces a truly formidable challenge: can the achievements he has made over the years be preserved? Can the country he protects continue to prosper? The answer lies in the upcoming war…

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

The burning embers hadn't completely died down and were still quite hot. Colin used his shovel to dig a hole in the ashes, then buried the meat and taro wrapped in broad leaves inside, covered it with the hot ash, and piled up some still-red-hot charcoal on top.

The livestock burned to death in the flames still emitted a strong, nauseating smell of flesh. The guests and owners who had originally stayed at the post station had all fled. When they saw soldiers in iron armor appear there, they immediately realized that things had reached a point where they could not stay any longer, so they abandoned their businesses and simply packed their valuables and ran away.

As a result, there wasn't even a cook left to prepare food, and they couldn't possibly go hungry to deal with what was to come. So they dug a pit in the fire and roasted some of the leftover ingredients from the kitchen to make do with breakfast.

The sky was beginning to lighten, and the surrounding brightness had increased significantly. Corners that were previously difficult to see even with eyes wide open were now somewhat clear. A donkey that had been burned to death still had some meat on its body that could be used because it hadn't turned into charcoal yet. At that moment, soldiers were cutting it up with daggers.

The ground was covered with messy footprints, and the weeds growing in the corners were even trampled flat on the ground, losing their former vigorous signs of life. The fence around the yard had been reinforced, and the guards ruthlessly demolished the surrounding houses and used the timber to build a stockade wall—quite rudimentary, but it served its purpose, at least making it take some time for uninvited guests to cross.

Looking at the sky, she estimated that the time was about right, then turned back and started digging in the same spot again. She took the wrapped leaf bundle out of the dry, scorching soil, and the meat and taro inside had been thoroughly cooked by the sustained and constant heat, emitting a very rustic aroma when mixed together.

Taking a bite of the thoroughly braised meat, the tender chunks, juicy and perfectly seasoned, were unexpectedly easy to eat, thanks to the limp leaves that served as a barrier against the grease. As he munched on his breakfast, absorbing the pungent smell of burning meat, Colin, who had been gazing into the distance, suddenly slowed his movements. He blinked doubtfully, double-checking twice, before a smile finally appeared on his lips.

"They're coming!!"

435 Counterattack (2)

As the first rays of the sun touched the land, billowing dust rose from the distant forests. The sound of the army's marching footsteps rolled across the sky like thunder, wave after wave. The gleaming armor and fiery red banners pierced through the dust, tearing apart the hazy green of the morning, and appeared before everyone's eyes.

The cavalry, fully armored, advanced silently in formation, their spears tipped with severed heads, roughly secured by straw ropes threaded through the cheeks. Bloodied bones and tracheas were exposed to the air, the twisted expressions of the dead forever fixed on their faces, with only blood-grubbing flies relentlessly swarming around them.

The armored soldiers walking along also had heads hanging from their waists. The buckles on their leather belts were not only used to secure their swords, but also to hang their spoils on them. At this moment, they had clearly reaped a rich harvest, with many even having two or three heads hanging from their waists.

And so, the blood-stained iron torrent appeared in their sight. The magnificent black eagle banner was the first to greet the sun shining through the mountains. The golden double-headed eagle standing proudly on it reflected dazzling light, its wings full and ready to take flight.

Thesolius looked up at his banner, then stretched out his leg and flicked his skirt armor, loosening the overlapping plates completely. He then strode forward, meeting his army without hesitation. The bright morning light reflected off his armor, creating dappled patterns of light, as if a stream of light was surrounding him.

The Iron Torrents stopped about 100 paces away and quickly reorganized their ranks with astonishing discipline and speed. Bloodied heads slammed against their hips, and the blood-stained armor plates rubbed together as densely as wasps flapping their wings.

Then the procession parted to the sides, and a middle-aged man with a resolute face stepped out. His iron-scaled skirt was smeared with blood, and half of his face was still crimson, not yet wiped clean. But he walked with hurried steps, and eventually started running, heading straight for Tersolius. He ran until he was within ten paces before suddenly stopping and kneeling in a salute.

"My lord, the matter is settled!"

Hersalos wiped the blood from his face. This resilient man, who had always been known as the Stone Man, was also somewhat excited at this moment. Only he knew how much he had gone through to get here, but thankfully he had finally brought the army here and had successfully reunited with his master without any mishaps.

Thesolius laughed, grabbed his hand, and dragged him up from the ground:

"You ran into them?"

“Yes, we caught him—” Hersaros nodded calmly:

"They attempted a surprise attack, but were discovered by our scouts. I mobilized cavalry to surround and kill them. Only a small number escaped, most were executed, and a few prisoners of some standing remain, who can be interrogated at any time."

"We'll talk about that later. Let's get the team organized. We don't have time to rest anymore, let's set off immediately..."

Thesolius looked up at the sky, which was gradually being covered by the sun's rays:

“We are going to destroy a rebellion, Hersalos.”

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

Before sunrise, the imperial capital was already bustling with activity. Countless small vendors and workers got up early to make a living. For them, sleeping in bed until the sun shone in front of them was never a daily occurrence, but rather an extremely rare and precious gift in their lives.

Of course, there's another scenario: they've already lost their jobs. Those who still have savings might drown their sorrows in alcohol, while those who are penniless will be even more worried. But they can all sleep until the sun wakes them up...

Bosdo was such a merchant. He rented a house in this city where land was extremely valuable and made a living by selling fur products from the Eastern Province. Every two months, he had to drive his horse-drawn carriage to personally purchase goods, buying low and selling high to make a profit.

Since the pacification of Cerison in the East, his business has become increasingly easier, especially since the bandits on the roads have been mostly eliminated. Merchants like him are naturally more at ease traveling. After making two trips, he even dared to have his own troops camp by the roadside... This was unimaginable in the East in the past.

But now, that once perilous forest has been completely cleared, and there's even a new town inside. The roads have been widened, and the trees have been cut down. He often goes to that town to buy furs. The villagers there are all experienced old hunters, and the hides they skin are rarely damaged, making it well worth the trip.

People like him, who run small businesses, naturally don't dare to dream of having a shop in this bustling capital. So they usually set up a stall in the market and have to pay a fee every month to rent the stall.

For him, this amount of money was not small, but he never intended to save it—after all, anyone who could do the math would know that this money was well worth the price. In that crowded market, as long as he had enough goods, earning it back wouldn't be easy, but it would only take five or six days.

As usual, he got out of bed before sunrise, got dressed, reminded his wife not to forget to bring lunch, washed his face, and then pushed his cart out the door. Amid greetings and well-wishes from several familiar vendors, he slowly made his way along the wide street.

It's not that he didn't have a carriage, but it was more cost-effective for him to push it himself than to drive one. He could also save some money on fodder, and it wasn't exactly strenuous work. Pushing it there would only make him break a sweat, which would also refresh him.

He continued along Hall Street, turning right at the fork in the road ahead, carefully walking along the side of the road to avoid bumping into the carriages traveling in the middle of the road. He pushed until his arms were hot before finally stopping his cart steadily beside an alley. Then he put down the handle and walked directly to a steaming stall next to him.

This stall was also very simple, with only a small flag hanging on a wooden pole about two people tall. The flag had a sheep's head drawn on it. On a stove made of bricks on the ground, there was an iron pot with white meat soup boiling inside, with tender mutton and radishes simmering in it.

The aroma of mutton soup wafted over him, strong and delicious, making his mouth water involuntarily. However, he only swallowed one mouthful before turning his attention to another pot next to him—it also had milky white broth and bubbling meat and radishes, except that this pot contained mutton offal.

Chopped sheep intestines, lungs, heart, liver, and other tough parts are much cheaper than mutton, so it's naturally more cost-effective and suitable for him to eat this.

He rummaged through his cart and pulled out a ceramic lunchbox, then walked over to the old man who was still busy seasoning the mutton soup.

"Biroyazal, give me two spoonfuls of lamb offal soup, a little less radish, and where did you put your cilantro?"

The cooked mutton soup was priced by the spoonful. The copper spoon placed next to the pot was now shiny from the steam. The white-bearded, hunched old man chuckled as he picked up the spoon and ladled two spoonfuls of soup for him. He then tossed four copper coins into the money box next to him and, without any hesitation, grabbed some cilantro from the box on the other side and sprinkled it into his lunchbox.

The freshly chopped cilantro, stirred by the scalding hot broth, immediately released a wonderful aroma, making him squint his eyes in satisfaction. He couldn't wait to lower his head and take a sip along the edge of the broth. The delicious meat flavor instantly awakened his taste buds and invigorated him.

He absolutely loved the smell, but his woman was different. She loathed cilantro and would even avoid cilantro stalls when shopping, saying the smell reminded her of a flat stink bug crawling among the leaves.

He frowned, took another sip, and then concluded that his wife was talking nonsense... How could bedbugs have such a wonderful aroma?

And so, he used his fork to scoop out a piece of sheep intestine cut into finger lengths from the lunchbox, stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed on the tender and chewy meat. At the same time, his eyes never left his little cart. He quickly slurped down the whole bowl of meat soup, then shook the soup off the box, closed the wooden lid, said goodbye to the others, and hurriedly returned to his cart, ready to continue his journey to the market.

It was still dark, but he could still make out the road with the help of the forks in the road and the torches in the square. The sun would take a while to rise, and he needed to pack up his stall before then so he could rest a little longer.