Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

"Oh, I see... Aren't you scared?"

Bosdo initially just nodded in response, but ultimately couldn't help asking another question. The middle-aged man also frowned with some confusion:

What are you afraid of?

"Of course, we're wondering if there's a conspiracy behind what happened today... I saw that commotion with my own eyes last night. There's no doubt that a large army was passing through the streets. How could everything be fine after just one night's sleep? If things haven't calmed down yet, wouldn't we be asking for death if we got involved?"

The kind-faced, middle-aged man nodded understandingly.

"I see... But you don't need to worry about that. There's something else you probably don't know..."

Before the Persian could ask any further questions, the other party gave him the answer on their own:

"Lord Tersolius has returned! His banner has been raised on the white marble walls of the Central Senate! In any case, we certainly have nothing to worry about!"

Perseto suddenly understood, and his heart immediately calmed down... If anyone could unconditionally give the residents of the capital confidence at this moment, it would certainly be General Tersolius, who led his legions on eastward and southward campaigns, ravaging countless barbarian tribes. With such a powerful general in charge, what did they have to worry about?!

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

The bustling crowd maintained a distance of about two palms between each other. Although it was not as orderly and tight as a legion's formation, it still looked well-organized and did not cause too much crowding, allowing the square to accommodate as many people as possible.

However, standing among a crowd of people sweating profusely in this kind of weather is definitely not a pleasant experience. The sweltering smell of sweat permeates almost every corner, and some people wearing relatively light clothing have even had their clothes soaked through with sweat, which clings tightly to their skin.

Yesterday's sun relentlessly baked his forehead, but Bosdo showed no intention of seeking shade. Instead, he listened intently to every word the official in front of him said, not daring to relax for even a moment.

If his ears and brain weren't malfunctioning today, what he had just heard should have been an order to establish a new legion, jointly issued by the Emperor and the Senate, possessing supreme authority throughout the empire and representing the highest power of the state; no one else had the right to interfere.

Moreover, the newly established legion will be led by General Tersolius, and will only recruit soldiers who have received sufficient military training and have service experience. They will also be paid generously until the end of the war, comparable to the elite legions under the commander's command.

He quickly realized he had found another opportunity—after losing all his goods, he thought he was about to face hardship, but unexpectedly, he happened to be there when the new legion was being formed. If he could successfully join it, and even get a position of some rank...

Thinking of the treatment he had just seen on that large parchment, he shuddered violently... He had never been able to join an elite legion before, and now he couldn't help but yearn for it, especially with General Tersolius leading the way, he was sure to gain the glory of victory...

In an instant, a fierce discussion erupted in the square like a tidal wave, almost shattering the surrounding bricks and tiles... The imperial people's enthusiasm for war never needed much incitement; it would burst forth like a molten furnace.

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

The catastrophic consequences of the rapid assault quickly triggered a greater rout, with soldiers utterly losing their confidence and courage. They no longer had the will to fight, and in their desperate attempt to escape, they even began discarding their weapons, helmets, and armor, just to lighten their load and outrun their comrades.

Such a rout, completely disorganized and disorganized, was a sheep flock that posed no threat to the pursuing cavalry. They didn't even need to make their warhorses run; they only needed to maintain a trot to pierce the fleeing enemies from behind with spears or shoot them down with arrows.

In the blink of an eye, their losses had already exceeded the total of the previous battles, and were rapidly escalating at an astonishing rate. Everywhere there were shrill screams and horrific sounds of limbs being severed and bodies being pierced, cries of pain and pleas for mercy, all of which were incessant, but often ended with a desperate wail.

Like red water swiftly engulfing mud and sand, the pursuing light cavalry spread and devoured the fleeing enemies, piercing, slashing, smashing, and hammering them down, shooting them down one after another like ducks, quickly reaping the lives of the enemy. Their warhorses, as swift as the wind, allowed them to do this with ease and to the fullest extent.

The lord in charge of this attack was so pale he looked like a ghost, making one wonder if he might suddenly faint at any moment... This was understandable, of course, since no one had anticipated that an attack that was originally intended as a probe and a perfunctory effort would turn out like this. And the losses he suffered were enough to drive any lord mad with pain and make him grind his teeth in hatred.

No one had anticipated that the cavalry would arrive so quickly, so fiercely, and so directly to the vital points… They even used the forest as cover to rapidly advance from the other side, then swiftly decided the final victory with a fatal rear charge and two volleys of arrows. The reinforcements they had hastily organized hadn't even had time to be sent out. The part of the enemy force that had been ambushed was already engulfed in a massacre.

On the right hillside, green, white, and red flags waved in a crisscross pattern. Several horns sounded simultaneously, and the infantry made way. Then came the heavy thud of hooves. Knights, clad in thick cloth armor with chainmail and tunic underneath, and wearing sturdy helmets, charged out of formation, each with a banner bearing their family crest at the tip of their lance. The various colors and shapes converged into a dazzling sea.

Even their warhorses were clad in thick leather and chainmail armor, enough to keep them alive in the rain of arrows. They charged down the gentle hillside into the plain, their target the approaching light cavalry.

They were the best knights in the entire Western world, and were also known as square-flag knights because they used square flags on the battlefield to show the glory of their families and themselves. In many cases, they were used as officers and had a more prestigious status than ordinary knights. They also had outstanding martial skills honed over a long period of time, which were enough to easily break through the infantry defenses. They were famous throughout the West.

Now they have been assembled and are attacking. Although there are only two hundred or so of them, they still run with an earth-shattering momentum, like a torrent sweeping away weeds and mud, determined to destroy everything that stands in their way.

Faced with this overwhelming attack, the light cavalry, who had just been recklessly pursuing the enemy, showed no intention of engaging in battle. Instead, they turned and fled without hesitation at the sound of a horn, quickly disappearing before the knights' ranks could even get close. During this time, they continued to turn back and fire arrows, harassing the pursuing knights with a dense rain of arrows.

Within the ranks, many immediately began to curse the enemy's weakness and cowardly behavior, scorning them for not even daring to fight their real opponents. But the flag-bearer knights had already achieved their goal and began to slow their warhorses, showing no intention of being pursued by the lured ones, in order to help the remaining troops retreat... Clearly, this was their original objective.

Seeing that the knights had not fallen for the trap, the Imperial light cavalry did not return. Instead, they quickly left along the road, soon fading from the hazy, fiery red sky, leaving only the bloodless corpses lying in the mud of the battlefield, buried by weeds and mud.

Not long after, the remaining remnants finally retreated to their camp... They were in a terrible state since they were sent out, with only one-third of their original number remaining. Everyone was exhausted and barely had the strength to stand up. The terrifying experience of escaping death had drained their will and strength.

The lord, who had suffered a huge loss, finally came to his senses and hurriedly gathered his remaining troops. He was determined to find an excuse to leave immediately. However, he was finding it so difficult to attack a small town with walls. If he stayed here any longer, he was afraid he would lose all his savings. Then he would be nothing.

The returning knights dismounted and allowed their servants to remove their heavy outer armor, leaving them with only a thin chainmail lining and a thick armored suit underneath. Their sweating warhorses were immediately attended to by servants. Both men and horses were exhausted from this all-out assault.

The army of the Kingdom of Salanod finally understood what Samir, the commander of the Asel, had felt... The light cavalry that had ravaged the southern lands had now arrived here, and without any reduction in cunning and danger. In just a few days, they had taught all the nobles here to underestimate their fate, and with their superior mobility, they had blocked the surrounding roads. Now, even sending a letter out was likely to be intercepted, and the servants who went out to scout often had a slim chance of survival.

They had never faced an army like this before, because the territories were unconnected; it had always been the empire facing threats from the north and east… and now, it was their turn to experience that firsthand…

450 The War of Natamus (1)

This is an excellent arrow. The shaft is made of birch wood from the northern part of the empire, with a slightly slender tip and head. The grain is straight and polished smooth. The outer layer is made tough and elastic by repeatedly pressing it with a hard object. It is then fitted with a fine steel arrow and a flexible and upright fletching. Finally, it is coated with a layer of lacquer that is waterproof and insect-proof, and can be nocked onto a bowstring and shot.

It is dangerous and deadly to anyone, easily piercing through light armor and flesh. Even fully armed knights would not dare to underestimate the powerful bows drawn by skilled archers, which are equipped with armor-piercing arrows. After all, they are still mortals under their armor, and the right to roam freely on the battlefield is not a right that ordinary soldiers have.

The arrow had almost pierced his vulnerable armpit, the arrowhead already two inches into the armor ring, but it was wrapped and protected by the thick armor, which reduced the final force and prevented him from being injured.

This was truly a stroke of luck. After all, as far as he knew, although none of his comrades who had charged with him had died, quite a few had been wounded. The arrows were so dense that with such a number, there were bound to be one or two that managed to pierce through the weak points in their armor, causing wounds that, while not too deep, still required careful treatment in the current climate.

After their probing attack ended in disastrous failure, a light drizzle unexpectedly arrived, once again soaking their camp. The colorful flags atop the tents hung limply like shrouds for the dead, while the crowded and haphazard tents shielded their owners from the rain.

The squires were cleaning their knights' armor and weapons, vigorously rubbing the rusty armor rings with cotton cloths wrapped in fine sand until all the surface rust was removed, and then applying a layer of lard to resist the damp environment—this work had to be done every few days because the lard would be rubbed off from time to time.

In any case, in this terrible weather of continuous drizzle, it was a busy time for these servants, while their master could take this opportunity to rest and instruct them to fetch food and other things.

He removed the mud-covered chainmail leggings from his feet—they were like giant socks made of wire, filled with leather to reduce friction, which would cause excessive wobbling and noise when walking, and needed to be tied and tightened with leather straps.

Cleaning this thing is bound to be quite a task, requiring a strong bristle brush, but at least he won't have to worry about it.

He tossed the last piece of steel to the attendant beside him, stood up and stretched his shoulders, then walked to the edge of the tent, looking out at the drizzling rain and the land and roads that were quickly turning into mud under the rain.

Unlike other soldiers, as a flag knight, he enjoyed superior treatment throughout the camp, second only to his lord. He had a spacious tent to live in, three squires to handle all the chores except for battle, and a generous monthly salary. For many, there was no reason for him to look so gloomy, but he couldn't suppress his emotions at all.

Frustration and pessimism had been lingering in his mind for a long time, but they finally erupted today after a formal test with the Imperial light cavalry, leaving him restless and uneasy.

A terrible thought lingered in his mind, like a slimy black fish coursing through his veins. He didn't even want to touch it, but he couldn't help but want to talk about it.

He was certain he wasn't the first in the entire camp to realize that Salanod was on the verge of destruction... No matter what words he used to cover it up, or what emotions he used to conceal it, it was all in vain. He was almost numb with sorrow as he realized that the country was on the verge of destruction and that everything he was doing now was in vain.

The Imperial army unexpectedly bypassed their direction and appeared in the southwest of the entire kingdom. Before they even realized the enemy's presence, they had already brought a large part of the kingdom under their control, and occupied several key cities that were easy to defend and difficult to attack, completely cutting off key roads.

Now, all they can do is try to drive the Imperials out of their land under the leadership of their own king, but everyone knows that the chances are slim... This is not only because the Empire's powerful and elite legions have the advantage of timing and location, but also because the morale of the army is now in a terrible state.

At first, His Majesty Redbeard Yotsero was able to use concealment to withdraw his troops to the rear and barely maintain a defensive line. However, he could not keep it a secret forever. More and more people knew that half of the kingdom's lands had fallen, not to mention the lords and soldiers whose hometowns were located in the southwest. The blow they suffered under such a sudden attack was unimaginable, and naturally, the morale of the entire army plummeted.

The soldiers in their army no longer believed in the possibility of victory, the lords were all pursuing their own agendas, and the king was exhausted trying to solve the endless problems.

...Even today's disastrous attack was an effort by their king to boost morale, hoping to inspire the soldiers' confidence by concentrating some of his forces to take over towns occupied by the Empire... However, even he did not expect that such an ordinary village, which seemed to have no natural defenses, could cause them to suffer heavy losses and a crushing defeat.

As a result, the already poor morale in the army plummeted even further. On his way back, he even saw a veteran who had been in the army for many years lying on the wet grass, staring blankly, like a dead dog that had just been pulled out of the water.

Now, no one in this army believes they will win. No one can lead such an army to victory, just as no one would lead a group of rabbits hunting.

His fiefdom was also in the south of the kingdom, and it too had fallen into the hands of the empire. He also didn't know what tomorrow would bring, so his morale was naturally low. However, he didn't give up and wallow in the mud; he still had to maintain some semblance of dignity as a knight.

What will happen next...? Amid the continuous rain, the knight thought in distress, his face contorted in pain. Behind him, his servant was diligently wiping his armor with a fine cotton cloth, making rhythmic sounds.

“Cengcengceng…………”

The blade of the military knife is rubbed across a fine whetstone, each stroke removing imperceptible threads that gradually smooth out the twisted and damaged edges caused by cutting. Once it is sharp enough, the burrs are removed from the thick leather, and rust-preventive oil is applied. This completes the maintenance, allowing it to be used again until it breaks completely beyond repair.

Natamus is very skilled at sharpening his knife... This is the standard military knife he was issued when he became captain. He has used and maintained it carefully over the years and it has never broken. However, he doesn't use it often now.

Finally, after testing the sharpness of the blade with his finger and confirming that it was about right, Natamus stood up from his chair, wiped the water off the knife, carefully applied the grease from the jar next to him, and then sheathed the knife and wiped his hands clean.

"How's the situation?"

Just then, a lean and well-built figure lifted the tent flap and entered, immediately responding to the words and instinctively bowing in greeting.

"The enemy has been successfully defeated, with thousands decapitated, and there have been no unexpected incidents."

Upon hearing Yuriedos's report, Natamus nodded... Decapitating a thousand enemies meant that the number of enemies defeated and killed far exceeded that number, which was roughly what they had expected. Although no pieces of flesh and bone were torn off, the scene was still bloody and painful.

This was the first probing action after both sides assembled their armies and set up their defensive lines. Just like when two cats are about to fight, they will always tentatively extend their claws to provoke each other's emotions and weaknesses. Redbeard Yotserlo was the cat that was slapped hard, and even the fur on his face was torn off by the claws. He would inevitably be more cautious and conservative in his actions afterward, and would not dare to make any big moves. And that was exactly what he wanted to achieve.

He reached out and lifted the tent flap, stepping out into the fine drizzle. Cool raindrops danced on his cloak, gathering on the luxurious fur before slowly dripping down, unable to penetrate, ultimately falling unwillingly into the damp earth.

The white lion was unusually large; the three of them wore its fur, and the scraps were used to make a bunch of things to give away... But no matter what, he liked the outfit, especially since it was a gift from his own brother.

When he brought the legion here, he thought he was just adding icing on the cake, adding another stroke to the glory of the empire... but he never expected things to change like this. Those treacherous elements actually took this opportunity to start a rebellion!

At first, he was extremely anxious upon receiving the news from the emperor, wishing he could immediately lead his troops back to provide support. However, when he learned that his brotherhood was leading an army there, he immediately felt relieved. After much hesitation, he finally made up his mind to entrust the safety of his wife and children to his brother and the emperor, while he continued to do what he had not yet accomplished. Otherwise, if all his previous efforts were in vain, he didn't know when he would have another such good opportunity to eradicate this cancerous tumor from the West, and perhaps he would never have another chance until the day he died.

Once a wolf has its jaws on its prey's vital spot, it will shake its head and swing its neck frantically to tear a wound big enough, otherwise it will have to pay the price for its mistake and let hunger torment its stomach. But it will not make that mistake. Once it starts, it will kill its prey without hesitation.

Now, his wolf pack is starving; it's time to find some meat to feed them...

Reaching out to catch a few drops of rain falling from the sky, feeling the cold water seeping into his chainmail gloves, Natams clenched his fists, making up his mind.

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

The tin jug steamed, maintaining the temperature of the liquid inside over the bright charcoal fire, while radiating a gentle warmth that dispelled the chill brought by the rain.

The golden-brown bread, sprinkled with a thin layer of fine salt, was still steaming from its white interior when broken open, but was now gradually cooling down.

A whole roasted lamb leg, thick and tender, golden brown all over with no overcooked spots, the oil and spices applied lock in the moisture to the maximum extent, and it's perfect with the shrimp paste in the small dish on the side.

On the long, narrow copper plate were carefully arranged roasted vegetables and fruits, all freshly picked and sprinkled with fine salt, perfectly worthy of a king's refined cuisine.

This meal was undeniably extravagant, considering that the soldiers in the army were most likely still munching on moldy hard biscuits at this time, their tongues certainly not capable of enjoying such delicacies. But Redbeard Yotsero couldn't muster any appetite; in fact, his stomach was already throbbing with pain...

The pain wasn't sharp and intense, like a dagger stabbing into the stomach, but rather a continuous, burning sensation, not enough to directly affect a person's movement, yet it still kept him from having a moment's peace. He had to drink a large glass of absinthe to barely suppress it.

What's worse is that often after a large meal, the pain in his stomach would suddenly intensify, turning from being burned by a small fire to being bitten by wasps and gnawed by rats, forcing him to vomit up everything he had eaten. After a few days, he was already suffering terribly.

The treatment plan provided to him by the doctors accompanying the army was a large amount of honey mixed with sheep's blood. He was to drink two sips before each meal to protect his stomach... He didn't know the exact reason, but it seemed to have some effect so far, allowing him to eat some things.

But at the same time, he was also well aware that his stomach condition was not due to any disease, but purely caused by long-standing anger and immense pressure... Since that incident, not a single moment of his life had been pleasant. Whenever he thought the news was bad enough, someone would immediately rush in to tell him that there was even worse news.

Now, the country is in dire straits, its army is demoralized... and the promised support remains nowhere in sight...

451 The War of Natamus (2)

He roughly tore off a piece of mutton with his fingers, carelessly dipping the fingertips into the shrimp paste beside him, then stuffed it into his mouth, chewed it haphazardly a few times, and swallowed it whole. During this process, the dark brown sauce even stained his red beard, and the salty, fishy taste permeated his unusual red hair.

Up to this point, the meal had been enjoyable. The real torment began a short while after he swallowed the food. As the juicy lamb fibers churned in his stomach, they immediately brought a burning pain, like being bitten by insects. This made his already irritable mood uncontrollable, and he snorted and smashed the plate on the table.

The sound of the porcelain plate shattering was incredibly crisp, showing that turning this precious cargo from a distant empire into fragments on the ground was merely a matter of the king's whim. The surrounding servants were all terrified, afraid of angering their increasingly unpredictable and irritable master... Several servants who had been hanged outside and suffered torture had already set the best example for them.

Serving the king was originally a respectable job, but now it has become a complete torment for them... After all, no one wants to face the danger of death at any time, especially for some trivial matter that even the most sensitive person cannot understand.

Just like this plate that's broken on the ground, they should have cleaned it up as soon as possible according to their duties, but no one dared to gamble that such a simple action might anger the current king and result in punishment for being annoyed. But if they didn't clean it up, they would also worry about being executed for dereliction of duty later... Even the soldiers fighting on the front lines couldn't be more tormented and troubled than them.

Finally, a servant gritted his teeth and mustered his courage to step forward. He hunched his shoulders and carefully picked up the broken plate from the ground with his hands. He did every movement as carefully and quickly as possible, as if he were catching a venomous snake from a thicket of thorns. In this terrifying atmosphere, he unleashed all his potential and did it quickly and skillfully.

After tidying up the broken pieces of the plate, he tried to stand up and quietly walk away, without attracting the attention of the red-bearded, irritable man—who was busy clutching his stomach and muttering curses.

If he could seize this brief moment and immediately move to the corner, he could escape what was to come. But unfortunately, in his panic, he made a mistake—the meat on the plate hadn't been eaten by the dog yet when he stepped on it. The greasy juices on it immediately caused him to lose his balance, and he fell backward in a sorry state. The shards of the plate in his hand flew everywhere, and his head slammed hard on the wooden floor, making a dull thud like a war drum.

The commotion was quite significant. Even the king, who had just been suffering from stomach pain, immediately turned his attention to the scene. The surrounding guards also watched the unfortunate man with a mixture of pity and schadenfreude. They watched as his face turned deathly pale in an instant, tormented by regret and fear.

What happened next was no surprise to anyone. With a ready-made reason, the king, who needed to vent his anger, immediately ordered his guards to drag the unfortunate man out and whip him twenty times, and to do it properly and thoroughly right at the door.

The sound of whips striking flesh and shrill screams soon rang out, one after another, making the hearts of the surrounding servants clench, as if they too were being whipped. With each scream, their faces paled a little more, and their behavior became even more restrained and respectful.

After issuing the order, the red-haired king's mood visibly improved. The screams coming from outside seemed to whet his appetite again; he grabbed a glass of absinthe and began gnawing on the remaining leg of lamb. Although the pain still lingered from time to time, he could now bear it.

As the servants waited anxiously, a series of hurried footsteps suddenly came from outside, ascending the stairs, pausing briefly at the spot where the whip had been used. Then, a guard and someone spoke in hushed tones. A moment later, there was a knock on the door, and after being granted permission, a guard entered.

"Your Majesty, the Chief of Logistics requests an audience."

"Let him in."

He frowned as he swallowed the mutton he had already chewed. Yotesero casually put his wine glass aside, waiting for his servant to pour him another glass, but soon he let out a burp mixed with the smell of alcohol and sourness due to bloating in his stomach, and he looked quite uncomfortable.

The logistics officer, sporting a goatee and wearing a fine tricorn hat, pushed open the door and entered. His tight leather trousers clung to his legs, and his boots were secured with thin leather straps studded with gleaming brass studs—a rather fashionable outfit favored by sailors and pirates on the Western seas for its close-fitting and durable nature.

He wasn't a sailor, but now he felt it necessary to deal with the king's raging emotions...

The servants and guards withdrew on command, leaving the room to the king and the chief of staff, ensuring that no third person would know what they had said.

"I can tell from your face that you don't have any good news for me... Oh well, I'm used to the scarcity of good news anyway. Just tell me what you're here for."

The king swirled the wine glass in his hand with resentment, his impatience evident in almost every movement, subtly urging others to keep their conversation brief in his presence.

"It's certainly not good news, Your Majesty. You should be aware of our crushing defeat two days ago... The exact losses have now been calculated... And what's worse, Earl Britt insists on returning to his own territory. He says he has fulfilled his duty to Your Majesty and has already set off today. His troops suffered the most severe losses..."

Redbeard Yotsero's brows furrowed deeply. If a fly happened to land in the middle of his head at that moment, it would surely be crushed to death. Anger and disgust surged within him, and he slammed the cup in his hand heavily onto the table.

The logistics chief had no doubt that his king was about to fly into a rage and might even draw his sword and start hacking around, after all, he had done it before—several pillars in the palace had undergone repeated repairs.

But in the end, Yotesero managed to suppress his anger, gritted his teeth and thought for a while with a gloomy expression, then looked up at his supervisor:

“We can’t let that guy go, otherwise the morale of the army will completely collapse… Go tell him that as long as he can lead his army to hold on, I will give him Hols’ copper mine without him having to pay a penny more, and the workers and management inside will all be included.”

The logistics manager looked surprised, completely unprepared for the king's generosity, but quickly recovered, nodded, and continued:

“There’s one more thing, Your Majesty. I’m afraid we can only pay the soldiers for two months… The fall of the southwestern part of the kingdom has completely cut off a large portion of our tax revenue. And our assembled army is consuming a huge amount of energy every day. If this continues, we will soon be exhausted and we won’t even be able to provide enough food for everyone.”

"This is a problem we must solve as soon as possible, and we cannot delay it."