Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

In the blink of an eye, the man who was just farming had become a rather respectable soldier. In particular, even his clothes had been carefully cleaned and preserved by the woman, and now they looked spotless—not to mention when he was a slave, even many citizens in the city did not have such fine clothes.

Despite appearing very anxious, the man still took the last opportunity to give his family a few words of advice:

"The bugles and war drums have sounded; this is the call of war. This time, I will surely make enough contributions to ensure that my family can live a good life! You must also take good care of the fields at home and always pay attention to news from outside. Go to the city to inquire whenever you have time."

"At the same time, we must be careful that someone doesn't take advantage of this opportunity to do something. There are always plenty of bad guys out there, so we need to be careful..."

…………

When there was nothing more to say, the man nodded, turned, pushed open the door, and walked out. His wife's final words caught up with him at that moment:

"You must be careful too, and be sure to come back soon..."

He didn't turn around, but waved behind him before leaving his family's courtyard, which was made of branches, and walking onto the rammed earth road—a road they had built themselves. In this small village outside the city, traces of newly constructed roads could be seen everywhere.

One by one, men dressed like him emerged from the houses next door. They spontaneously gathered together, forming small teams, like countless streams of red water converging into a creek, which in turn converged into a great river... and the great river flowed towards the city.

………………

Men in red military uniforms lined up in a long queue, receiving their equipment. Depending on their height and build, they would receive different sizes of chainmail and sturdy, shiny helmets. Those who received their equipment would put it on immediately, and soon the shimmering silver color began to spread throughout the queue, with the crisp sound of the chainmail rings rubbing together everywhere.

Those who were ready were being divided into battalions. In the spacious military camp outside the city, basic recovery training began, allowing these soldiers who had been working the land for more than half a year to regain their original skills, and to help their somewhat rusty hands and feet recall how to use weapons, how to arrange formations, and how to be a soldier.

In another large military camp nearby, soldiers were also gathering, but their equipment and training far surpassed that of the slaves. Elite legion soldiers, clad in heavy armor, formed ranks, and when they began to march, it was as if muffled thunder rolled across the earth; the entire ground reverberated with the sound of their heavy, synchronized footsteps. Their dense armor reflected a blinding, cold light in the sunlight. Sharp spears and sturdy shields were arranged as densely as seedlings in a field.

A shrewd-looking middle-aged general appeared on the city wall. His beard had a distinct dark red tinge, as if it had been soaked in blood for a long time and was now difficult to remove.

Marcus squinted at the assembled soldiers, and after a moment, he twitched his mustache with slight displeasure.

"I haven't seen any food delivered to the army yet. What are the cooks doing? Why are they so slow? Send someone to urge them on."

One soldier immediately turned and left, only to return shortly afterward.

"Sir, there's a problem with the fuel preparation. The convoy that was supposed to deliver the firewood hasn't moved yet. Someone has already gone to investigate, so the food hasn't been cooked yet."

"First, we'll source the food from the city and prepare it so the soldiers can eat and drink their fill before they start training."

Without any hesitation, Marcus immediately came up with a solution, and the staff next to him immediately went to implement it.

The shouts and cries from the vast military camp were clearly audible. The city walls beneath them were made of heavy, solid marble blocks, strong enough to withstand weeks of bombardment by heavy catapults. This formidable fortress city, built by the Hols, was now being used by the Empire and was playing an increasingly obvious role. It was like a nail, not sharp but strong and full of barbs, piercing deep into flesh, making the entire Hols kingdom feel as if it were stuck in their throat and thorn in their back.

The Hols never gave up their plan to take over the city, but after that crushing defeat, all they could do were minor skirmishes, which Marcus could easily handle.

He always knew very well why the general had made him stay here—as long as the city of Alpert remained under the empire's control, the Hols' long-established strong defenses would be rendered useless. Without their true natural defenses, they would be in imminent danger of national annihilation…

Now, the moment has finally come for the dagger plunged into the enemy's spine to be pried open, and he must be fully prepared.

………………

A magnificent Hers horse is galloping swiftly on the road. Although this type of horse does not carry a large load, its long and agile limbs make it incredibly fast, and its endurance is also quite good. Many important messages are transmitted on its back.

The messenger on horseback was covered in mud. His legs were splattered with mud, and even his warhorse was covered in mud, with dried and wet mud everywhere on its hooves and belly, even matting the hair on its hooves into a single mass. He didn't have time to clean it, but just whipped his mount, trying to make it go faster.

However, the mediocre quality of the roads in the Kingdom of Hols severely limited his speed—unlike the sturdy and smooth stone-paved roads of the Empire, the specially designed road surface could even quickly drain away water, allowing even infantry to travel extremely long distances.

In the Kingdom of Hols, the condition of the roads depended entirely on how much money the local nobles were willing to spend on road repairs. The best roads were comparable to the imperial highways, while the worst were even worse than the animal trails trodden by wild beasts in the forest, becoming muddy and impassable after rain.

Unfortunately, the country is located in a region where it rains all year round, and the unpredictable road conditions often cause caravans and pedestrians to complain and slow down their journeys.

While traveling through a forest, he was extremely anxious, but his warhorse was utterly exhausted. To prevent his mount from dying from exhaustion, he had to stop and rest—the place where he could change horses was quite a distance away, and he had to make a choice.

Knowing how important his possessions were, he remained anxious and didn't let his horse rest for long. He quickly fed it some food and salt and continued on at a slightly slower pace, hoping to reach Hols's capital within the allotted time.

When he felt hungry, he would eat a couple of bites of the dry, hard wheat cakes in his pack; when he was thirsty, he would drink a couple of sips of the watered-down wine in his jug; when he was tired, he would rest for a while on his saddle. He traveled through wind and rain like this until two days later when he finally arrived at his destination, the capital of the Kingdom of Hols—Meriatos.

The sturdy and orderly roads surrounding the city quickly increased his speed. After seeing the city in the distance, he soon arrived at the city built of white marble and immediately found the palace guards to deliver the information he was carrying.

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

The long, pointed ears were broken in the middle, revealing smooth, oily skin at the cut. Combined with the scars on his face and body, Julius looked less like a king and more like a mercenary who had risen through the ranks.

The wine in the glass had just been heated in boiling water. In this cold and damp weather, everyone needs a glass of heated wine to make their hands and feet feel a little better.

For the king, this cup of wine was especially necessary... Every year at this time, the large and small wounds on his body would itch unbearably, and he would also feel sharp pain in his joints. Sometimes he could even sense the coming rainstorm based on the pain in his body, and he was rarely wrong.

The medicines provided by the court physicians were of little effect; often, it was this cup of heated wine that helped him endure the physical pain, invigorate his spirit, and thus better handle certain matters.

The drizzle outside the window was getting heavier and heavier. Every drop that fell to the ground brought a chill. Gusts of cold wind blew against my body, and even though I was wrapped in a mink cloak, I couldn't help but feel a bone-chilling cold.

Before long, the drizzle turned into a downpour, the raindrops pattering against the ground, and a damp, chilly mist rushed in. The fireplace in the room, unusually warm and dry, made him stop thinking by the window and return to the fireplace.

The acacia wood flooring under his feet had just been waxed, smooth and sturdy, with beautiful wood grain that even connected to each other, giving one the illusion of a unified whole. The chill brought by the moisture dissipated in the firelight, allowing him to let out a comfortable sigh and stretch his limbs.

The rain had been falling incessantly, like someone pouring water down from the sky in a large wooden basin. Along with the cold and dampness, he felt his joints begin to swell and ache, as if a needle had pierced through his joint sockets, sinking into his flesh and tendons... and this feeling was gradually intensifying until it became almost unbearable, causing him to grimac and prepare to ask his servant to bring more mulled wine.

A series of urgent knocks suddenly sounded at the door. Julius frowned slightly, but still gave permission.

The man who entered was his most trusted minister. This rather old man had a complex expression on his face, a mixture of worry, surprise, and fear. Without uttering any unnecessary words, he hurriedly walked up to him, extended his hand, and handed him a parchment covered with dozens of seals.

Realizing the seriousness of the problem, Julius's face darkened... In fact, seeing his minister's expression, he could pretty much guess what had happened.

The empire's invasion was not unexpected; rather, it would have been strange if the country hadn't invaded—after all, important fortified cities had fallen, the northern defenses were practically nonexistent, and all troops had retreated. No matter how foolish a commander was, he couldn't possibly have left himself more time to organize a second line of defense.

The only thing to worry about is—what is the scale of this invasion? How many legions have been mobilized? What is the current situation? ... These are the things that need to be considered first.

"I won't read it if you believe me. Just summarize it for me and tell me the most important thing right now... Tell me, is it really come to that point..."

Julius casually tossed the parchment aside, pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose, and felt the soreness and stinging in his wrists seem to transfer to his eyes, then spread to his head, making his whole head feel like it was about to explode.

"I dare not conceal anything, Your Majesty..."

The fingers gently touched the ground, and a long sigh, like a snake, began to spread outwards...

rest for a day.

The author decided to take a day off to organize his thoughts and revise the outline.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

223 Changes in the South (2)

War often begins with a cruel wind blowing even before the army arrives, leaving the weak in a state of panic and desperate struggle to escape the clutches of a terrifying adversary. For a weak nation to survive, it often has to try every method, seek every supporter, and squeeze every last drop of potential from the entire country...

If they could work together, even if their national strength was average, the potential losses would deter the invaders... But Julius knew very well that neither his country nor his nobles could do this, and even if he used the ceremonial stone tablets, it would be difficult to achieve.

After all, the power of oaths and rituals can only ensure that one's vassals will not oppose him in the main direction, and they are destined to cause conflicts and worsen relations with a large number of nobles in the country... In addition, there are certain restrictions, so he will not use these things unless necessary.

Furthermore, the once-reliable northern defenses have now completely collapsed, leaving the entire north of the kingdom a wide open road with no natural defenses. How could they possibly face the Empire's renowned legions? In fact, to prevent the soldiers on the northern defenses from being caught in a pincer movement and losing their lives on the now-useless lines, he had already ordered the army to retreat, leaving the several still-intact fortresses to the Empire.

...Although he knew this moment would come sooner or later, the fact that the empire truly showed signs of moving south still shook the entire country. He didn't even need to send spies to investigate; he could already imagine the unrest that would ensue...When the empire's army truly pressed in, and the world collapsed, the obstacles and adversaries that would become his enemies would definitely not be limited to the imperial people...

On the plate in front of me, the fine pan-fried beef tenderloin had cooled, the fat had solidified into a white paste, and the aroma was almost imperceptible. The wine next to it had been open for a long time, but no one had touched it. The soft bread had become tough and chewy, and the finely toasted apple pie had lost its tempting texture.

These delicacies, which would be mouthwatering anywhere, failed to arouse the host's interest at this moment. Julius's brows furrowed, his eyebrows, which were beginning to turn white, and his hair, which was somewhat disheveled. His fingers grasped the cup several times, but he thoughtfully let go each time.

Even his magnificent robes were wrinkled and crumpled. Normally, servants would tremble with fear and beg to change them for him, but at this moment, no one dared to step forward. All the servants and guards kept their distance because of the terrifying and dangerous atmosphere and his orders, leaving only the king sitting at the table in quiet contemplation.

The sound of rain pattering against the window returned. Waves of damp chill began to seep into the room, arriving with overwhelming force and filling every corner in the blink of an eye.

The firewood in the fireplace on one side of the house crackled softly, radiating warmth that dispelled the chill. Servants would occasionally add sturdy, heat-resistant wood to the flames, keeping the area warm and dry.

Each autumn rain brings a chill. This is especially true in the Hols region, where the weather is particularly cold and damp, making it a difficult season for many.

call…………

With a long sigh, the king seemed to have made a decision, turning his head and tossing the cup aside.

"Put a cup of hot wine in my hand... and call Taloris and Hartel over here, and prepare lunch for them too."

The servant immediately obeyed and left. Soon after, steaming hot wine was served. Julius picked up the exquisite wine glass, drank it down in one gulp to dispel the chill from his back and chest, and then ate the already cold food on the table without a care.

The rain outside grew heavier and heavier, turning from a light drizzle into a torrential downpour like a waterfall washing over the earth. With shouts and the neighing of horses, two carriages, escorted by guards, drove through the palace gates. Not long after, with hurried footsteps, an old man and a young man pushed open the wooden door and entered the room to bow to him.

Normally, they should be allowed to enter only after being notified by a trusted servant, but Julius didn't want to let formalities delay their conversations with his trusted right-hand men, so the two of them would simply push the door open and walk in without any guards or servants stopping them.

"Sit down first, let's eat something together."

The old man and the young man both looked worried, no less so than Julius. After hearing their king's words, they naturally sat down in their chairs and began to eat the food that the servants had brought them. The three of them ate and talked, while the servants who had been in the room had tactfully left long ago and closed the soundproof door.

"Taloris, is it possible for us to pull through this time?"

Cutting a finger-thick piece of meat with a small knife, even though it had become cold and its aroma had diminished considerably, the unique savory flavor was still concentrated in the muscle fibers. As you chewed, the flavor spread, revealing its distinctive character.

“You should know better than I do… It’s impossible, Your Majesty, absolutely impossible…”

Taloris, whose hair had turned noticeably grayer and whose wrinkles had increased, drank a cup of hot wine, a slight blush appearing on his face, before beginning to tear bread into pieces and soak them in the soup.

"The reason we have been able to maintain a stalemate with the Empire is because of the natural barrier formed by the northern mountains. Just as a single warrior standing at the gate can easily hold off several enemies, only in this way can we, with our relatively weak national strength, contend with the Empire."

"But now, our Alpert has fallen into enemy hands, the entire northern defense line has been broken in half and rendered meaningless. We can only confront the Imperial army head-on... But if we can defeat the Imperial army in a direct confrontation, why should we hold out behind the defense line? Wouldn't it be better to seize the Empire's fertile lands?"

The young man next to him, Hartel, was equally worried and was practically wolfing down his food in order to save time.

"Without the natural barrier of the north, the defenses we've maintained are practically useless. If our northern defenses were once considered impregnable, now they're just like a poorly built house by a lousy carpenter, easily blown down by even a slight gust of wind..."

"So, do you have any other suggestions?"

"Perhaps we can send someone to negotiate with the Empire, which could buy us a precious respite and give us more time to deal with the situation."

“I don’t think the emperor of the empire would be so foolish…” Julius shook his head, with only semi-solidified fat left on his plate: “If there is a treasure trove that I can take whatever I want, and no one will stop me, then why should I stop? Scraping every last bit of benefit is what I should do; only a fool would hesitate.”

"But the empire is not solely ruled by the emperor; the Senate is there to check and balance the emperor's power..."

“That won’t work either.” Julius shook his head again. “Maybe we did cooperate with some people last time, but now our destruction is what will benefit them more. They are also craving this war, and I have never expected that.”

…………

In the somber atmosphere, suggestion after suggestion was proven unworkable during the three-person discussion, until finally, Taloris sighed helplessly:

"Then we only have one option left, Your Majesty."

“That’s right, we only have one choice…” With a long sigh, the three of them simultaneously focused their gazes on the parchment map on the table, on the southern edge of that vast and wealthy land of yellow sand—Asher…

224 Changes in the South (3)

On the scorching desert, even insects are extremely rare. Even the few resilient species will not appear during this most cruel time when the sun bakes the earth, but will hide early in caves or under rocks where they are not exposed to direct sunlight and have a lower temperature.

The vast desert is a forbidden land for life. Beneath the endless golden sands lie countless skeletons. On the roads, baked white and hot, lie the remains of pedestrians, camels, and horses. The plants that can survive here have only sharp, short leaves and essential, massive roots. Even the most resilient and tenacious animals will not voluntarily approach this sea of ​​death...

But now there are people who are extremely unaccustomed to this place, trekking here. With each step, they let out heavy breathing. Hot sweat seeps from under their heads, which are wrapped in thick headscarves. Their skin feels like it is being pricked by needles. The tall camels next to them have golden hair like straw and are as strong as a high wall, shielding them from much of the sun.

This was a small team, consisting of only twenty people including the grooms who managed the horses and camels. Each person, like the Assel people, had their heads wrapped in thick turbans and their faces covered with dust-proof and sun-blocking masks. They even dyed the lower edges of their eyes black to prevent the glaring sunlight in the desert from interfering with their vision.

Their horses and camels carried a considerable amount of goods, just like any normal caravan, and they also set aside a significant number of pack animals to transport water and food—essential for successfully passing through this area; losing these would undoubtedly mean the destruction of the caravan.

Despite the intense heat here, anyone with a modicum of common sense would not expose their skin to cool down, as that would be a sure path to death.

To reduce sweating and shield themselves from the sun, everyone wore long robes that covered their entire bodies, ensuring that no skin was exposed to the scorching sun. Although there were quite a few camels and horses, no one rode them except for a few guards, and the animals were used as much as possible to transport more water and goods.

This was destined to be an extremely arduous journey for them, but for the Asel people who frequently crossed the desert, it was not an insurmountable challenge. As long as they had enough water and a suitable route, and did not encounter any terrible disasters such as bandits or sandstorms, it was just a normal journey through the desert, not an extremely difficult process. Especially for those merchants, who crossed the desert countless times every year in pursuit of wealth and status.

But for this team, the dry and hot climate was hell... Despite their best preparations, they realized they had been too optimistic, even by the worst-case scenario, when they actually set foot in the desert.

The leading man hunched his head, trying to hide himself in the shadow of the tall camel beside him, and occasionally let out a panting breath, walking listlessly.

Beside him stood a tall, thin man from Asel, with a dark complexion and the neatly groomed black beard that every respectable man here was required to have. He wore a black turban secured with gold clips. Despite the blazing sun overhead, he showed no signs of distress, calmly gazing at the vast, endless desert, searching for his way.

“How much further do we have to go? I’ve had enough of this godforsaken place… We’re all dried up now.”

The man, panting, asked the man beside him, Assele, who was their guide, familiar with every road in the area, to make sure they could get out of here.

"It'll be soon, sir, it'll be very soon..."

The man from Assele squinted, shielding his eyes from the glare with one hand, and gazed at the towering sand dunes in the distance. After a long while, he slowly came to a conclusion:

"We have covered four of the five sections of the journey. At most, we will be able to see the golden spire of Faria Pallas the day after tomorrow. After that, we will be able to rest. Once we reach the earthen hill in front of it, we will have a shady place to rest and set up camp. Just be careful tonight, as we may encounter bandits no matter where we are. May these depraved and shameless scoundrels be condemned to the molten sand hell for all eternity!"

The guide seemed rather talkative, constantly gesturing as he spoke. His nimble fingers traced lines in front of his chest, and his feet never stopped moving, threatening to shake the man off at any moment. He was clearly extremely adapted to the hot, dry environment.

Upon hearing that they were nearing their destination and would soon be able to rest, the leader breathed a sigh of relief, his steps becoming lighter. As the news spread, the entire group soon became more energetic, picked up their spirits, and quickened their pace.

…………

As the guide had predicted, after some time they saw the low hill and the small water source behind it, which provided shelter from the desert night winds. In this barren land, it was a perfect haven.

And they were lucky today; they were the only team that arrived here, so there were no troublesome disputes. All they had to do was drive the livestock to the water source, set up the tents, establish camp, and prepare for the night.

The massive camel was drinking large amounts of water at an astonishing speed, its belly making gurgling sounds, as if a small stream was flowing inside.

Horses are fast and easy to handle, but they are also precious and need to be well cared for. The two grooms in the caravan are busy preventing their valuable livestock from being harmed. The tall camels are snorting and occasionally spitting saliva. They are covered in dust, which would fly everywhere if you just brushed them off.

A campfire was lit among them, made of dry, durable poplar wood that had been dragged from the desert. These trees thrived here and, after dying, became dry remains that would remain unchanged for thousands of years.