Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

"Ah! What?!..."

In his panic, the man almost blurted out incoherent things, but the other person didn't seem to care and continued speaking, word by word:

"What I want to ask is, when was your village established?... This place must have been an abandoned village before."

459 The Shadow of War (5)

The man in front of me was really strange... After all, a normal person wouldn't shave off all their hair, eyebrows, and beard, making their head look like a bald hard-boiled egg, nor would their facial features look like they'd been pressed down by something, making them exceptionally round and smooth, even making one wonder if they could stick their head into a jar and then pull it out without any problem.

The clothes he was wearing also looked strange, as there were no seams at all, as if they were woven from a single piece of fabric—he only noticed this when he got closer.

What's even stranger is that on this rocky beach covered with pebbles, shell fragments, and gravel, the other person was walking barefoot without any signs of being cut... Many fishermen living by the sea don't wear shoes, but that's only if their feet have developed thick calluses and most of the ground they're walking on is soft sand, not if they're walking barefoot on sharp pebbles with feet that look like they haven't been through much hardship.

For some inexplicable reason, as if it were an intuition bursting forth from the depths of his heart... he realized that the person in front of him was extremely dangerous, just like when he was floating in the sea and saw a shark's fin coming towards him. His whole body was covered in goosebumps, and cold sweat instantly soaked through his vest.

“...We came here thirteen years ago...We used to be herders from Jitu. We couldn’t make a living in the north, so we kept heading south and came here...When we arrived, all we saw were a pile of rotten bones and a bunch of dilapidated houses. It took us a lot of effort to clear them all.”

“...herdsmen...I see that you are very skilled at fishing, not like herdsmen who only know how to herd sheep.”

This sounded like a question, but the other person remained expressionless, seemingly not expecting an answer, or perhaps already having the answer in mind.

"At first, we didn't know how either... We suffered a lot before we learned, and we even drowned a lot of people in the sea. The reason we were able to survive was entirely thanks to an old man here."

"Old man?"

This time, the strange man finally showed a hint of emotion, a mixture of surprise and curiosity, and with a sense of entitlement, ordered him to continue.

"Yes, an old man. When we arrived here, he lived alone in a thatched hut next to a dilapidated house. He was not very clear-headed and was crazy all the time, but he would be lucid sometimes. When he was lucid, he would teach us how to survive by the sea, how to build boats, how to go out to sea to fish, and how to process our catch."

“That old man died three years ago. We buried him on the mountain next to us. He was unusually lucid when he died, and he kept talking to us... It seemed like he wanted to see his son.”

"Okay, that's all I wanted to know."

His cold blue eyes flickered for a fleeting moment, but then returned to their indifference. He lost interest in everything around him, simply nodded to the fishermen, and turned to leave. Leaving the entire village behind, he didn't look back once more, quickly disappearing into the distance. The man who was butchering the fish and his son breathed a sigh of relief, feeling a sense of relief at having escaped a disaster.

The fish in his hand was still struggling violently. He subconsciously turned the knife and tapped the fish's head twice with the back of the blade. Then, relying on muscle memory, he completed the next action. Only after the cut fish was thrown into the wooden basin next to him did he seem to come back to his senses, shake his head, wipe the cold sweat from his forehead, and almost instinctively make up his mind to keep what had just happened to himself.

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

The dense bushes were parted by his legs, futilely snagging across the soft, thick white fabric, without even a wisp of fiber being loosened. His feet stepped carelessly into the bushes covered with thorns and brambles, yet not a drop of blood flowed. The barbs that could tear an ordinary person's flesh to shreds only left whitish scratches on his skin.

The weeds and shrubs here intertwined, forming a dense barrier like a wall, impenetrable to the eye. Various kinds of thorns coiled within like dangerous venomous snakes, ready to harm any creature that passed by with their vicious barbs. An ordinary person would have to hack their way through with a knife to move forward, but for him, he only needed to rely on the strength and resilience of his body to simply walk through. He didn't even need to stop.

He kept darting back and forth, like a monster rampaging through the undergrowth and weeds, clearing away the obstructions of branches and leaves, until suddenly the view opened up before him—a small hill covered in weeds, completely out of place with the flat terrain. A rotten wooden stake stood in front of him, the wooden sign nailed to it blurred and illegible, its original meaning lost to time.

This is a very simple grave. Perhaps in a few years, when the wooden stake has completely rotted away, this place will become as ordinary and indistinguishable as a wasteland. The bones buried inside will eventually merge into the earth and become nutrients for this forest.

Right next to this hill, there is a very lush elm tree. Its dense branches and leaves block most of the sunlight, making the place exceptionally shady and a good place to sleep.

He silently placed his hand on the rotten wooden plaque, and with just a little force, easily broke off the once-thick piece of wood. Small fragments fell into the soil beneath his feet, and the remaining parts continued to break and fall away.

His eyes remained cold, but they never left the grave mound. He stared at it for a long time, like a statue, unwavering. The sun slowly passed over the treetops above him, and the light gradually dimmed until night began to fall, at which point he finally made his next move.

Reach out and grab the top of the wooden pole, then push it forcefully to the side—

click!

The wood, hollowed out by insects, was utterly sturdy and broke off at the root. He then tossed it down the hillside like trash, leaving only a bare, low hill... which looked like the dwelling place of some kind of ants.

"Worthless..."

A cold sigh, like a snake, slithered into the bushes, coiling around someone's throat.

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

Being constantly jostled on a galloping warhorse... especially being strapped to a horse's back like an object is definitely not a comfortable experience, especially on roads in the Western countries where conditions are generally poor. Once the horse gets fast, the stomach will be repeatedly squeezed like a water bag, and over time, it often causes vomiting and diarrhea, making one suffer terribly.

Magias had never imagined he'd be this unlucky... Now, his hands and feet were tightly bound with leather straps. With the help of his horse, he was like prey caught in a trap, strapped to its back. As the warhorse galloped at breakneck speed, the bushes and branches on either side of the road constantly brushed against his face. The road flashing past him made him dizzy, and the constant pressure on his abdomen left him with almost no strength to scream.

Even worse, the knight riding the horse would often tease him, saying things he couldn't understand, and occasionally turning around to slap his head as if he were hitting a warhorse, followed by a strange laugh. The people around him would laugh along, and he would be like a little girl who had accidentally wandered into a bandit's den, trembling with fear and unable to speak.

Of course, he wasn't really a little girl... but he felt his bad luck was no less. He was just taking a few people to a nearby village to "collect" some grain and have some fun when he unexpectedly ran into this group of plague gods... Although these imperial light cavalry from the East always appeared and disappeared mysteriously, he had no idea how these guys had appeared in the territory behind their defense line!

In a single encounter, the entire unsuspecting squad was slaughtered, leaving only the captain, who was spared. He was now tied to one of the soldiers' horses and being carried along the road by the constant jolting.

They ran for dozens of miles, and he felt half-dead. If they continued running, it wouldn't be impossible for him to die on horseback. Moreover, these guys specifically chose to travel along mountain paths with dense bushes, and they were even more familiar with the terrain than the locals.

After a sharp thorn scraped a bit of flesh off his face for the twenty-third time, he let out a weak groan, and then he was surprised to find that the horse seemed to have slowed down and was not jolting as much as before.

"Ah, Tuo Moyi, you did a good job, you came back so quickly."

A more rapid clatter of hooves, like drumbeats, instantly engulfed the forest path, kicking up a cloud of dust, before coming to a steady stop ahead of them. A cheerful voice offered a friendly greeting, which the leader of his squad immediately responded in the Imperial language:

"Ah, that's right. Thanks to figuring out the shortcut beforehand, it was easy to catch them. This guy's armor looks pretty good, so he probably knows a lot. I'm about to take him back."

"Then hurry up, we've already cleared the road, don't delay the orders."

"Okay, okay, we got it. We didn't delay at all. The horses' hooves never even touched the ground the whole way; they were so clean they could be used as plates. Let's go!"

After exchanging a few more playful insults, the two teams passed each other again, but his heart remained ice-cold... He realized with a profound understanding that he was about to be in deep trouble.

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

Click!

The fresh wood was easily chopped in half, the cut surface exhibiting an inexplicable regularity. The white bone scraped against it, cutting into the stake and squeezing out the moisture it contained.

Last night's light rain left the entire campsite damp. If the stored firewood wasn't covered in time, it would easily become difficult to burn, making breakfast preparation quite challenging.

Fresh wood needs to be dried before it can be burned. To speed up the process, it needs to be broken into small pieces to accelerate the evaporation of moisture. This step is usually done by auxiliary soldiers and servants, but Natamus likes the clean and crisp feeling of splitting wood with an axe. Each swing of the axe makes his mind clearer.

Click!

Another log was neatly split in the middle. In the process, the knots growing on the log did not play any role. They were torn apart by the sturdy axe blade, revealing the white wood fibers inside, which rolled down the sides of the stump to the ground.

Nathamus was sifting through the mountain of wood with great interest when, just as he was about to swing his axe again, a guard stepped through the pile of wood scraps he had chopped and came to his side.

"Sir, the reconnaissance team has made the arrest."

“Oh, they’re quick…” Natamus nodded slightly, then slammed the axe in his hand directly into the wooden stake.

"It's about time; if we delay any longer, we'll miss the opportunity..."

The axe was deeply embedded in the wooden stake, splitting a gap in the large structure that was firmly fixed to the soil by the tree roots. But pulling the axe out would not be so easy.

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

"Your Excellency, Imperial General, I am willing to tell you everything I know! If only you would spare my life!"

Natams looked slightly taken aback, because he hadn't even said a word... The guy in front of him, who was wearing thick cloth armor and whose chainmail turban had serrated gold trim, knelt down on the ground in fear and trembling, desperately telling everyone he knew, like beans pouring from a bamboo tube.

The other party's cooperation exceeded his expectations, but because they were too cooperative, what they said became incoherent and they couldn't grasp the main point for a long time, which made him frown. Seeing his expression, the captured prisoner became even more flustered. His originally fluent speech suddenly became stiff and clumsy. He started to stumble while speaking, and in the end, he simply stood there with his mouth open like an idiot, staring blankly.

"Okay, shut up now."

A simple sentence calmed the prisoner somewhat, as if he realized the general wasn't going to order him to be taken out and beheaded. Natams, however, narrowed his eyes slightly, something dangerous brewing in his words:

"Looks like you're not doing so well. Your armor is rusty, and you haven't even had time to take care of it... How long has your king been withholding your pay?"

460 Gold and silver (1)

"ah?……"

Completely unaware that the other party would ask such a question, McGias uttered a rather foolish and dull question, and froze on the spot.

His current behavior was a stark contrast to his previous eloquence and obsequiousness, creating a strangely humorous effect that almost made several people present unable to suppress their smiles.

He had imagined many questions that the empire's generals would ask him, such as their troop deployment, the king's location, and where supplies and logistics were stored... but he never imagined that the other party would care about his pay like a kind neighbor. If it weren't for the gleaming armor and the chilling swords and axes beside him, he would almost have thought that the other party was genuinely concerned about him.

That's impossible, of course. After all, what merit or ability does he possess to attract the attention of such an important figure? If he were to actually be noticed, it would be a disaster for him...

The halberd, its copper-bound handle striking the ground with a heavy thud, the dangerous sound instantly snapping him back to reality. He realized he had been lost in thought for far too long—long enough to make others question his sanity… and almost instinctively, he immediately decided to make amends for his mistake:

"Since the start of the war, our soldiers have only received three months' worth of pay so far, sir... and even when they do receive it, it's heavily discounted. Some people get half the money, while some unlucky ones don't even get a third of what they were supposed to. Forget about making a fortune from the war, we even have to scrimp and save to pay for repairing our armor... and the food is getting worse and worse!"

"Just a few months ago, our meals consisted of soup made with salted meat and decent bread. Occasionally, we'd get pickled fish sent from the north, but otherwise, it depended on what the local villages could provide. Fresh cabbage and radishes were great for soup... turnips were the cheapest... But now, the bread we eat is at least half-mixed with sawdust! And then there are bags and bags of moldy beans, who knows where they came from! I'm so sick of it that I'm vomiting bile at night. If I hadn't been quick-witted enough to think of taking advantage of patrols to raid the nearby villages... to collect some things, I'd probably still be suffering like everyone else..."

He was just speaking according to Natamus's request, but as he spoke, he became emotional and clearly put his heart into it. He spoke with great passion and spittle flying everywhere, and he was practically jumping up and down cursing if he hadn't been kneeling on the ground.

"No money, no food, no women, not even a decent place to sleep! ... I don't even know why I came here in the first place! Shivering in a soaked tent every day, gnawing on hard bread that had to be sawed open and drinking moldy bean soup, I was practically growing mold on myself!"

"That damned red-haired pig initially said he would increase our military pay, and I was happy for a while, thinking he was an enlightened and generous king... What a fool he was! He couldn't even wait to let us be happy for a while before doing such a stupid thing!..."

Later, he became completely immersed in his own world, and all the dissatisfaction and resentment he had accumulated over a long period of time erupted at once. He even temporarily forgot his own situation, just muttering vicious curses and swears, grinding his teeth.

It seems that if Josetro were to appear in front of him right now, this guy would rush up and punch him without hesitation... Of course, if he were actually in front of him, it would probably be another matter, but at least at this moment, his anger and resentment are genuine.

This is a resentment stemming from a feeling of betrayal and humiliation. Even if suppressed temporarily, it will lurk in the heart like a venomous snake, waiting for the day it erupts... Of course, a large reward would be enough to satisfy these soldiers and officers.

Judging from his current behavior, the king clearly cannot afford to spend such a large sum of money to quell the soldiers' discontent for the time being... But this will not be permanent. Any ruler with a sound mind would realize the crisis he is facing and would certainly try to find a solution.

And this moment was just right for Natamus... The enemy's defenses seemed to remain strong, but the wavering morale was riddled with holes. Without the support of the people, no matter how reasonable the arrangements or how large the army, it would become extremely vulnerable—at least that was the case for him.

His confidence stemmed not only from the constant feedback from his numerous intelligence agents, but also from his understanding of the military… The military was incredibly expensive, almost like pouring basket after basket of gold coins into a puddle, especially the loosely organized and undisciplined armies of the West. The cost of assembling them was astronomical. He didn't believe that after this king achieved this, the national treasury would have much left.

Now, he has lost most of his sources of tax revenue, yet he still commands a large army—an army he dares not disband or abandon when facing a powerful enemy. So, what will happen is obvious...

"Take him away and lock him up."

The guards immediately stepped forward, grabbed McGias by the arm, and dragged him out of the tent. McGias, who hadn't heard the previous sentence at all, thought he was about to be beheaded and let out a terrified scream. He kicked his legs frantically like a frog, trying to find a foothold on the ground to escape the tragic fate he imagined.

Because the guy's screams were so loud, one of the guards finally couldn't stand it anymore. He raised his hand and punched him on the head. The perfect force and position immediately put Magias into a deep sleep. Then he was dragged away limply, leaving two obvious marks on the ground.

Ignoring the farce unfolding there, Natamus continued issuing orders. His hand was now on the hilt of his sword, his eyes sharp as blades, and his mere presence exuded an imposing aura, like a mountain.

"Issue my order—all troops, depart immediately and advance swiftly along the planned routes..."

--------

Jingle bells, jingle bells! ...

Bright orange-yellow gold coins flowed continuously through the gaps between fingers, making a crisp and beautiful sound when they collided with each other. This sound was enough to buy a person's soul, immersing them in the greed of gold, making them unwilling to leave.

The silver coin, which glows faintly under the flame, is slightly inferior in comparison, but it is still enough to evoke a heartfelt fondness.

This is undoubtedly an unimaginable fortune. An ordinary person in the Kingdom of Salanod could never see even a fraction of this wealth in their lifetime. It is enough to turn close brothers against each other, loving couples into enemies, enemies into peace, and cities into flames... It all depends on how you use it. In a sense, this gold is a wish-granting device, fulfilling people's wishes through its golden radiance.

It's hard for anyone not to be overwhelmed by the sheer amount of gold. For some who have suffered the most poverty, this sight could even cause them to faint from extreme excitement... But for others, gold is merely a tool to achieve their goals, worthless if not used.

"Hurry up! Distribute the money immediately, or some of these guys will turn the world upside down! Use this money to feed them; they've been starving enough."

Without a second thought, Redbeard Yotserlo tossed a handful of gold and silver coins into the box and expressionlessly gave orders to his logistics supervisor. However, the way his thumb was unconsciously clenching his index finger betrayed his underlying unease…

461 Gold and silver (2)

The murky broth boiled continuously over the flames, smelling of beans, but upon closer inspection, one could detect a faint bitter and sour taste... Clearly, the beans inside were not fresh ingredients.

The person next to him was stirring with a wooden spoon, and the cook in the soup pot also had a bitter look on his face. The beans he took out from the bag next to him were covered with black spots of all sizes, and they smelled quite bad. They could only be said to be able to fill one's stomach, if not kill one. Other than that, they had no advantages.

Beside him, a cook was sawing a long, black object with a carpenter's saw. His movements and the sounds he made were exactly like cutting wood, but in fact, this was the soldiers' dinner for the evening... It contained a considerable amount of sawdust to fill their hungry stomachs and increase the portion size...

This is indeed very useful; at least when you eat this kind of black bread, you will easily feel that your stomach is full... But in the end, it does not contain any nutrition or energy, and the taste is terrible. Eating it is a torment to your tongue and stomach.

As the saw continued to cut, fine fragments spilled onto the ground. The bean soup in the pot was finally beyond repair, and the cook signaled to the soldiers in the camp that it was time to eat.

The soldiers, their faces full of resentment, had their helmets askew and many weren't even properly dressed in their armor. They came to line up looking disheveled and even started arguing over the order. Before long, they started fighting, using the situation as an excuse to vent their anger and frustration. Meanwhile, the cook picked up his wooden ladle to protect his soup pot, preventing these guys who were about to take advantage of the situation from overturning it.

As it turned out, he was very prescient. In the chaos, someone tried to do something underhanded, but he hit their hand twice hard with his spoon, almost breaking their bones. The two who started fighting were also suppressed by the officers, and the others were finally able to continue getting their food.

However, no one showed any joy on their faces. Some people held their bowls and stirred them with spoons but didn't put them in their mouths. When they ate bread, it was as if they were chewing rotten wood.

This is the current state of the army of the Kingdom of Salanod. They have established countless camps on the defensive line where they are locked in a stalemate with the Imperial Legion, but because they have lost the richest region, their military pay is short and supplies are scarce. The soldiers are demoralized and full of resentment. Now, not to mention that they have launched an offensive, they have not scattered in a panic, which has even exceeded the expectations of many people.

But it was clear to everyone that if the situation continued, the collapse of this army would be imminent... After all, withholding military pay was fatal enough for an army, not to mention the shortage of supplies, low morale, and a powerful enemy in front of them. It could be said that the king had no reason to be harsh on these soldiers anymore. The reason he could still maintain this army was largely due to his past control over the country's military power and the authority he still possessed. What he was now expending was his past authority, something that was incredibly difficult to build but could be lost in an instant.

He scooped a spoonful of mushy beans from the soup and put it in his mouth, savoring the strange taste. Then, he used the hot soup to force down the dry, hard, and chewy bread, barely managing to get through the meal. The squad leader on duty then wanted to stand up and go to the nearby tower to arrange for the sentries.

But just as he was about to leave, a hand grabbed his sleeve and tugged at it furtively—he didn't even need to turn around to know it was Oris.

The two of them had a pretty good relationship, and this guy always had some clever ideas to get his hands on some good stuff, especially in this terrible situation. He could even get some jerky from who-knows-where to give his brothers a little something extra.

He immediately realized that something good was waiting for him, but after a brief hesitation, he put his duties aside... Anyway, the Imperials had been quiet for so long, so there was no need to worry about it today. Besides, his stomach was upset, so he didn't have the mood to think about so much.

With that, Oris raised an eyebrow at him, and he followed knowingly. The two of them made their way through the maze of the camp and hid in a warehouse, where three or four people had already gathered. They greeted him warmly when they saw him coming; they were all friends who got along well with him.

"Aha, Liver, you've finally made it here. Pol, hurry up and close the door. We don't have much time. Let's finish eating quickly and go back."

“That’s right, that’s right, Oris, I’ve given you all the money I have on me. If you can’t get me something good, I won’t let this go.”

"I've been eating moldy bean soup every day for the past two days, I'm practically moldy myself! If I don't find something good to try soon, I'm thinking of cutting my tongue off."

A group of people started making a ruckus, urging them on, and some even impatiently banged on the wooden planks beside them, causing Oris to frown and mutter curses at them.