Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

As time has passed and the world has progressed, this weapon, which has accompanied mankind since the era of primitive life and slash-and-burn agriculture, has been passed down. The material has changed from fragile stone to sharp and heavy steel. It can be seen in the armies and civilians of every country and is highly favored because of its excellent practicality.

The steel battle axes used by the Imperial Army are of excellent quality. The blades, forged from fine steel, are exceptionally sturdy and difficult to damage even when chopping rocks with force. The walnut handles are coated with maintenance oils and wrapped with non-slip leather, making them extremely easy to use no matter how you use them.

In addition, the sturdy spikes at the front and back of the axe blade allow the user to easily pierce through the opponent's armor, making it extremely threatening to anyone.

An axe is a sturdy and durable weapon that requires far less maintenance than a sharp sword, but it still needs care. The nicks and chips on the axe blade need to be carefully polished, which requires mastering some basic skills.

A cleverly designed wooden chair features a grinding wheel crafted from rough stone. A belt on the grinding wheel connects to a foot pedal, which, when stepped on, causes the stone wheel to spin rapidly, thus efficiently sharpening weapons.

These are ubiquitous in the Empire's artisan camps, and anyone can use them. With just a little skill, one can maintain their weapons independently, preventing them from going into battle with damaged swords.

At this very moment, the Nicot woman with long golden hair was grimacing as she pedaled the pedals beneath her feet, struggling to control the axe in her hands amidst the sparks and dust rising around her.

She was clearly a novice; she stepped too fast and accidentally used too much force with her hands. The high-speed rotating grinding wheel wore a noticeable flaw into the axe blade, causing her to stop abruptly and raise her hand in a slightly flustered manner.

Fortunately, the flaw wasn't too serious, and there was still a chance to remedy it. So, after making a slight adjustment, Carila quickly threw herself back into the game.

After grinding his axes with gritted teeth and finally being satisfied with the sharpness of the blades, Karila let out a long sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing.

The sound of a blade rubbing against a fine whetstone could be heard from the side, delicate and rhythmic, and could even be addictive if you listened to it too much. Every now and then, a handful of water would be scooped up and poured onto the stone to prevent the friction between the steel and the whetstone from overheating.

"Aren't you finished sharpening it yet, sir? That sword is already quite sharp, isn't it? I can't even see any nicks."

Almost instantly, Karila began to feel bored, and said somewhat listlessly to Tersolius, who was sharpening a sword beside her.

"The blade still has burrs and isn't smooth enough, but it's still usable. I just prefer it to be more refined."

He wiped away the remaining moisture with a clean, soft cloth, glanced at the sharp blade sideways to make sure there weren't any overly rough burrs, and then, satisfied, put it away.

“Take good care of your weapons. People like us should know better than anyone the importance of a reliable weapon. If you treat them carelessly, you will suffer the consequences sooner or later.”

"When I first went to war, I almost died at the hands of several bandits with knives and swords because I didn't notice an inconspicuous crack on the sword I brought from my hometown."

"So how did you resolve it back then? You must have taken care of those guys by now, right?"

Carila's focus was completely different from what he said, but Tersolius was used to it, after all, this guy was only interested in a few simple things.

“I dragged a guy off his horse, then mounted it myself, and after that everything was simple.”

"I'm not very good at riding horses. My hometown is so poor that we can't afford to keep these things. One horse needs to eat the food of at least three people. Only princes and nobles could afford to raise them..."

"Warhorses are precious creatures, and their ability to adapt to the environment and survive has long been diminished. If it weren't for humans raising them, these creatures might already be extinct... But our wars are inseparable from these agile beings."

"The Kurist people, who live in the east, are able to raise livestock in large numbers because the climate is warmer and the rainfall is more abundant. Their neighbors, the Kiel people in the north, have far fewer warhorses because their land is too barren and cold."

“You will have to learn to ride a horse from now on, otherwise you will have to ride in a carriage with the medical team when you travel... After all, you are my direct centurion, and I can’t let you travel on your own two legs.”

"No problem, it should be pretty simple."

Kari stretched and yawned, her back making a crisp sound, her fit and well-proportioned body faintly visible beneath her cotton blouse.

“I see that everyone else sits on it and puts their feet in those two circles, and they can sit very steadily. As long as there is a place to put my feet, I won’t wobble. There’s definitely no problem! These beasts wouldn’t dare to mess with me.”

"If it were as easy as you say, then training a cavalryman wouldn't require so much time and effort..."

Thessalius chuckled and pointed out the naive part of the other's idea:

"In any country's army, cavalry is always more expensive, not to mention well-trained armored cavalry. Compared to other branches of the military, it's a complete waste of money, and that money isn't always worthwhile. If you encounter a bad commander, it could even lead to your downfall..."

He paused here, his expression slightly wistful and somber, then sighed softly and continued:

“It looks easy for you to ride on it, but if the warhorse bumps even slightly, an inexperienced person will fall and break their bones. Not only do you have to maintain your balance, but you also have to be flexible in shifting your center of gravity and adjusting the strength of your legs at any time... This is not something that can be learned in a day or two.”

"Of course, you don't have much free time right now... Tomorrow is the first match, are you ready?"

A month has passed, and the imperial capital is once again adorned with colorful flags and flowers. Large red double-headed eagle banners fly over important areas such as city walls, towers, nursing homes, and libraries. Long ropes strung along the streets and alleys are hung with colorful flags. Everywhere, excited crowds and waves of cheers resound.

The demand for flowers in the city is now far beyond what the surrounding ordinary farms can supply. Some shrewd businessmen have chosen to source the necessary materials for this grand celebration from even more distant places, hoping to make a fortune.

This is a grand event for the entire nation, a visual feast that every citizen of the empire eagerly anticipates! Even the most destitute beggars will argue endlessly over it, and even the most naive children will quarrel with their companions or throw tantrums and cry in front of their parents, hoping to gain permission.

The annual national competition will produce countless warriors, generate numerous honors, and allow many people to rise above their station and make a fortune.

At this time of year, people from all over the empire with ideas and intelligence, or even just those who love a good spectacle, would gather here to enjoy the festive atmosphere, witness the victories or defeats of the warriors, and see a dark horse break through the encirclement or the dejected defeat.

This is no longer just a tradition or custom, but has become a unique spiritual symbol of the entire country, a grand event that is widely recognized by the people and can stir up the emotions of the whole country.

Countless warriors have gathered here, including seasoned soldiers from legions who have killed countless people and experienced countless battles, as well as highly skilled mercenaries... The vast majority of those who are merely there to make up the numbers will soon be eliminated and fail. Those who remain in the end are all the best of the best.

"Of course! I've been ready for a long time, and I can't wait any longer. I've been here for a month, and I feel like my bones are about to break! I can't wait to see the warriors here."

"Then keep it up, I think you won't be disappointed this time."

"I'm so tired, I guess I'll get ready... By the way, we're not allowed to bring our own armor and weapons, right?"

“That’s right.” Tersolius nodded slightly.

"If children had to prepare their own armor, those from poor families who couldn't afford expensive armor would be eliminated from the start. So, by using the same armor and weapons for everyone, we ensured a certain degree of fairness..."

"You can choose any type of weapon you like. Any weapon that the Imperial Army uses regularly will be fine. We'll divide you into groups and teams based on the situation. Of course, they'll all be lightweight, blunt swords and hammers. You can just pick a couple of axes to use, since I don't think you're used to anything else anyway."

"Hahaha! You're pretty good at judging people. This is the only tool I'm good at using. The others are too complicated for me to use. As long as you know how to smash, you can use this kind of thing. Even old ladies who have lost half their teeth know how to use their axes. Otherwise, they really wouldn't be able to survive there."

210 Competition (2)

The morning sunlight streamed through the windowpanes onto the soft bed. The down-filled mattress was so soft it was almost unsupporting. The blanket, sewn from wolf pelts I had hunted myself, kept the chill out of the air in this cold late autumn. Even though it was foggy outside, the bed was warm and dry when I woke up in the morning.

Thesolius, who had spent too much time at his desk yesterday, was still fast asleep. The sunlight outside the window had pierced through the morning mist, turning the thin veil of fog into a pale gold. A bird or two perched on a pomegranate tree branch, chirping sweetly. Dewdrops from the roses dripped from the petals onto the leaves.

The footsteps of the patrolling soldiers outside the wall were neat and steady, and the gleaming tips of their spears shone golden in the morning sunlight. Their finely crafted armor, maintained with oil, bent and clattered with each movement.

This is his residence, built to perfection in a relatively short period of time by order of the emperor himself, who mobilized the best craftsmen and scholars to complete it.

It could even be said that this was the safest place in the entire empire, apart from the royal palace... and perhaps also the Chegevne prison.

The deep sleep didn't last long. A small bird with crimson down hopped onto the windowsill. Its clear chirping echoed into the room, and Thales opened his eyes. After a short while, he threw off his wolf-skin blanket and sat up, wearing only a thin cotton shirt.

After taking a few minutes to calm himself down and clear his mind, he reached out and tugged at the rope beside him. A clear, crisp sound of a copper bell rang from outside the door. A servant, summoned, quickly entered carrying a basin of water and a clean towel.

He dismissed the servants who wanted to dress and wash for him—in this respect, he was still not used to having others do things for him, and continued to handle his own affairs as he had in the military camp.

After quickly washing up, he put on the black robe bestowed upon him by the emperor, fastened his belt, put on his boots, and then pushed open the door and went out... The noise in the distance was already clearly audible; he had woken up a little late and couldn't afford to delay any longer.

His guards had brought him a warhorse, and his old steed, which hadn't been in the midst of battle for months, was still full of energy. The moment it saw him, it excitedly pawed at his hooves, snorted, and thrashed its neck, trying to get closer.

He smiled as he took the reins from the warhorse, easily leaping onto the strong, sturdy back. With only a few attendants, he left the vast manor and headed towards the magnificent circular arena in the distance.

………………

A cacophony of voices, surging like a tidal wave...

This is a vivid description of the current situation: an endless sea of ​​people stretching from the buildings to the horizon. Everywhere you look, you see a dense mass of heads crammed together, their brightly colored clothes forming part of the chaotic tapestry of humanity. If it weren't for soldiers maintaining order, given the current situation and the level of congestion, it's highly likely that this place would soon become completely impassable.

Soldiers strictly enforced the city's regulations on the main roads, punishing anyone who caused congestion or chaos due to stupidity, rigidity, or malicious intent, ensuring that the people gathered in the imperial capital could reach their destinations relatively smoothly.

Although the magnificent arena had thousands of seats, it was a drop in the ocean compared to the enthusiastic crowd. Most people could only stay outside the arena and learn about the situation through the news that came out.

Only truly wealthy and respectable citizens have the opportunity to enter the arena, to witness up close the magnificent spectacle of warriors battling each other for honor, and to experience the captivating, fiery atmosphere and spirit of this nation.

Ordinary citizens could only get seats in the stone stands around the arena. If they were lucky or willing to pay, they could get the front seats, where they could clearly see the exciting scenes of javelins and arrows flying and swords and axes clashing. These seats were often reserved months before news of the competition even broke.

Those who are wealthier, more willing to spend money, and also hold a certain status can come to a more comfortable place with extra services. This place is not only closer and more spacious, but also offers fresh fruit and drinks at any time, allowing them to leisurely enjoy the exciting matches in the arena.

These are basically the seats that can be bought with money. The ones shaded by grapevines, with fine wines and food, and even the fruit that was just picked in the morning and still covered with frost and dew, are reserved for the truly distinguished. The seats with marble carvings and luxurious furs are places that ordinary people can hardly afford, no matter how much money they have.

Many high-ranking figures even have their own reserved spots here. Even if they don't attend, these spots are kept open and not allowed to be occupied by others, in order to demonstrate their status and authority.

The others could only look on with envy at those places with the best views and the most comfortable experiences, while secretly rejoicing that they had the right to enter, and inwardly mocking those unlucky souls outside who couldn't even get in.

Today marks the opening of a prestigious competition renowned throughout the empire and even the world. Those who aspire to gain glory and status at this grand event begin preparations months in advance, striving to reach the heart of the empire, its bustling capital, within the allotted time.

Although the competition was far from starting, the crowds had already gathered here impatiently. Some of them had even gotten up and set off at dawn, only to be blocked halfway by the throngs of people. They could only slowly move towards their destination with this terrifying tide until they finally saw the towering circular walls of the arena.

In any other country, such a large gathering of people would make the king and leaders sweat profusely, suspecting that a terrible rebellion and riot had been launched—which is highly likely, especially since such a large group of people gathered together are like dry tinder doused with oil in dry weather; with just a little instigation and an accident, they could turn the entire city upside down.

But for the Imperials, whose discipline is ingrained in their very bones, such large-scale public gatherings are commonplace. Even without any major events, they would gather every now and then for trivial matters, and then disperse once they were mostly satisfied. Everyone had become accustomed to it and knew it by heart.

Some shrewd small vendors who know how to seize opportunities will also take advantage of the crowds to sell their goods—of course, this is risky. In such a crowded and jostling situation, they can easily have their money stolen by those with ill intentions, or lose their goods in the blink of an eye.

In this vast crowd, the voices of people converged to form an incomparably wide wave. No one could clearly hear what such a grand voice was saying; they could only be deeply impressed by the characteristics of this voice, which rose higher and higher like a storm or a raging torrent.

In such circumstances, delivering orders would be quite difficult, so the well-prepared Imperials would deliberately create a passageway in the streets for messengers and soldiers to deliver orders, enabling them to deliver the information to the appropriate place in a short time without interference.

Just as people were getting impatient, the warm autumn sun had already made their foreheads sweat, and the billowing dust had settled on their faces, making the skin that many people had carefully cleaned before going out feel sticky.

The oppressive atmosphere was very unpleasant. Some people with weaker constitutions even felt like they couldn't breathe. The shouts of the garrison soldiers responsible for maintaining order rang out from time to time. After waiting all morning, people's emotions were becoming irritable.

The somber atmosphere suddenly changed when a grand bugle call sounded – a magnificent and indescribably large banner was moving towards them along the main road in the city center. Anyone who wasn't an idiot or a fool could recognize it as the emperor's banner, the symbol of the supreme empire.

Countless magnificent ceremonial guards held high, clearing a path for their master and allowing the ornately decorated carriage to pass unimpeded through the crowds to the arena.

But with shouts of men, neighing of horses, glints of cold light, and the clatter of armor, the crowd on the road quickly moved to both sides, making way for the carriage and the massive entourage. The garrison soldiers also began to do their utmost to maintain order among the large crowd and prevent any potential chaos from spreading.

It wasn't until the flag finally left the carriage and the emperor, dressed in magnificent robes, entered the arena surrounded by guards and courtiers, that the intense enthusiasm that had been building up all day was truly ignited.

A thunderous cheer began to spread from the arena outwards, with shouts of "Long live the Emperor!" almost reaching the heavens and penetrating the ground.

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

The enthusiasm of the imperial people was almost unstoppable...

A man in a blue robe remarked, looking at the shops that were closing one after another—it was clearly not due to bankruptcy or any other reason, and with today's surging crowds, the shop owners would surely make a fortune if they opened their doors.

But in order to witness the exciting gladiatorial combat in the arena, these wealthy citizens were even willing to give up the opportunity to make money and rush to the capital's arena just to feast their eyes on the spectacle.

Countless imperial people could be seen on every street and alley. It was even more lively than a festival, and the people's emotions were far more high than during a festival. No matter how far away or how remote the town was, people would set off one or two months in advance, just to be able to participate in this grand event in time.

The man tugged at the collar of his silk robe—a finely crafted garment made by a skilled tailor, its tightness at the wrist easily adjustable via a small leather cord sewn into the fabric. This design was already quite popular in Western countries, found on the clothing of many, from laborers to high-ranking nobles.

It seems I chose a bad time; I'm afraid I won't be able to move an inch today...

The man smiled and shook his head, refusing the wine his servant offered. For some reason, he was unwilling to drink such a mind-altering beverage outside of his home.

The young man had a traditional Assel appearance—dark skin and deep-set eyes, while adult men were keen to grow thick beards to signify their status.

His Asherler-style robe and the Asherler-style curved sword at his waist undoubtedly proved his identity and showed that this wealthy Asherler merchant, who at least appeared to be quite rich, did not intend to conceal his identity and thus blended into this oppressive city as an Asherler.

After wandering around the streets and alleys for a while, he encountered no obstacles thanks to his strong bodyguards and loyal servants. Feeling bored, he returned directly to his current residence, walked up to the rooftop, and gazed at the increasingly lively arena from a pergola under the grape trellis. With an expression of great interest on his face, he picked up a thin-skinned, thick-fleshed pear from the fruit basket, put it in his mouth, and took a bite.

As the cool, sweet juice spread, a flippant voice suddenly rang out from behind my head:

"Given your status, even the emperor of this country could easily arrange the best seat for you. Why are you pitifully watching from afar? Or do you simply enjoy this?"

The man, expressionless, took another bite of the pear. This bite was significantly larger than the previous one, completely eliminating half of the fist-sized pear. As more and more juice was squeezed out of his mouth by his teeth, easing his dry cough, he said nonchalantly:

“If that were really what I wanted, I wouldn’t have just brought a ship full of people with me when I set off… But that’s not my goal. It’s not to be a prince of the Kingdom of Asel, receiving the best hospitality in this country, and then being sent back after I’ve had my fun. That’s not what I wanted in the first place.”

A man with an effeminate face walked from behind him to the front. The clothes he wore had a tightness that was extremely rare in this era. Apart from the wide trousers, the short shirt on his upper body was almost clinging to his body.

211 Competition (3)

Such attire can be described as bizarre, since few people can tolerate such tight, form-fitting clothing. It looks like a hard iron shell is covering the entire upper body, making one wonder if one can still breathe smoothly.

At first glance, it was difficult to tell whether this person was male or female. Although he had a gentle face and delicate features, he did not have a female body curve. Instead, one could clearly see his lean muscles protruding from under his clothes. He was of medium height and looked like a cat, exuding agility and cunning.

Prince Asel, dressed in a long blue robe, turned his head expressionlessly to look at the other person, tossed the half-eaten pear he was holding onto the table beside him, a hint of displeasure hidden beneath his stiff expression:

"As for you, what are you doing following me? Or is it that Lord Ajalas can no longer allow me to be out of his sight for even a month? Even though I've come to the distant empire, you still send a castrated slave to accompany me?"

“You know very well, Your Highness, this is my duty…”

This effeminate-looking man… or to put it another way, a castrated man, was generally called a eunuch. In the vast land of Asel, they were usually the most loyal servants of royalty and nobility, their lives and fortunes inextricably linked to their masters.

They were often sent to medical officers when they were still young children, through buying, selling, or confiscating. Only at this age would the survival rate of castration be the highest. Moreover, because they were taken away from their parents at a young age, their entire mindset was shaped by a specialist, making them absolutely incapable of betrayal. They were the most trusted servants of all nobles.

Their status was both lowly and extremely noble; at least apart from their masters and beings of equal rank, few could make them bow their heads.

Because of his master's status and certain special factors, even though the young man in front of him was also of noble birth, he didn't need to care too much...

“This is not only the will of my master, but also the will of the noble Shah, and the will of Asel… Forgive my bluntness, but I have no right to do so, and neither do you.”

The young man reached out again and took a bunch of grapes from the silver tray held by the kneeling servant beside him. He raised it high above his head, then tilted his head back and ate the bottom few grapes, spitting out the hard, astringent seeds as he chewed.

"Then stop showing up in front of me all the time and ruining my good mood. You can go find something to do on your own. Anyway, I have no right to interfere with you... Maybe you can participate in a competition. You might even bring something back. Aren't you very good with knives?"

The effeminate man nodded expressionlessly, then turned and disappeared from the attic.

…………

After a long while, as the sky grew brighter and the sun outside became scorching, the grapes in his hand were reduced to green stems. The young Prince Aselle chuckled self-deprecatingly:

"It's just a goat whose throat will be slit sooner or later anyway, are you not even comfortable with that...?"

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