Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

Tarina's eyes swept lightly over the refined and condensed data, while her mind made judgments and analyses. After confirming that there were no problems with each parchment, she placed it on her left.

The empire’s vast bureaucracy was in full swing, displaying astonishing order and efficiency. Everything looked perfectly organized, a rarity in any other country… At least Talina was certain that the king of the Kingdom of Hols would never see such a detailed report—not that the Kingdom of Hols lacked talented people, but that the lords certainly wouldn’t hand over real intelligence to the king or anyone connected to him.

When the last piece of parchment was placed on the left, Talina finally breathed a sigh of relief, and a light smile appeared on her lips—it seemed there were no problems, and the supplies were being delivered to the warehouses smoothly and according to regulations. At this rate, it would take at most another half month to complete all the preparations.

As Tarina was thinking this, she was about to stand up. It was late at night, and she needed to rest. She had other things to do tomorrow, and she needed to keep herself energized.

With a thud, the hardwood chair crashed heavily onto the hard stone floor. Talina, who had been slowly standing up, suddenly tensed up, her face turning serious, and she pushed her chair over.

The girl's fingers deftly and swiftly pulled out a seemingly unremarkable parchment from the pile, then spread it out on the table and carefully examined a small portion of it.

Everyone else was startled by his swift and abrupt movement and quickly gathered around, but before they could even see what the problem was on the paper, Talina quickly looked up:

"There's a problem... there's a problem with the supplies in the southern provinces!"

Her voice was extremely soft at first, but then her words became firm. Tarina's gaze was so sharp, devoid of any gentleness, that it pierced the parchment before her like a sharp awl...

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

A lavish feast was about to unfold, and everyone was vying for a chance to attend. He was now the leader, bringing them to the banquet…

After seeing off the last legionary commander who departed respectfully, Tersolius tapped the armrest of his chair with his fingers and mused on this.

For the people of the Empire, especially its soldiers, the desire to achieve glory and establish a great career is almost ingrained in their bones. To distinguish themselves on the battlefield, to conquer cities and seize territories, to destroy the enemy, to capture slaves, to acquire wealth... this is the most respectable and dignified way for every man in the Empire to become a great figure.

Anyone who isn't an incapable idiot can realize how grand the war against the Kingdom of Hols will be... and how precious the opportunities it contains.

Five legions gathered here, with a total of 6 elite soldiers of the empire. Only such a war could satisfy their appetite, make their blood boil, and make them fight fiercely, just like a group of ravenous lions who couldn't wait to devour fresh flesh.

He was the one everyone believed could lead them to victory, wealth, and glory. His prestige, power, and honor convinced everyone, and he enjoyed unquestionable authority here.

Instead of choosing to live in the comfortable, dry city, Tersolius planned and arranged for the soldiers who kept arriving to be placed in suitable locations within the legion's garrison outside the city.

The air here is somewhat humid. The closer they get to the Kingdom of Hols in the south, the more intense the damp and chilly feeling becomes. Sometimes, when the soldiers wake up in the morning, they will find that their clothes hanging outside are soaked with moisture and show no signs of drying.

This caused great suffering for many soldiers from the north, especially those stationed near the swampy areas south of the city. The soldiers had had enough of the bread, jerky, and even blankets and pillows that would occasionally go moldy, and they were becoming increasingly restless. Disturbances were increasing in the camps, and calls for battle were growing louder.

This place is definitely not a good place to stay...

Tersolius watched as his personal guard, standing in the lower left corner of the barracks, suddenly changed his statue-like solemn posture, raised his spear, and thrust it into the ground with lightning speed using the brass pommel at the bottom of the shaft.

The hard, heavy metal spike pierced through the thin scales and skin without any resistance. A small snake, as thick as a thumb, was struggling on the spear tip. The snake's blood, with its strong fishy smell, dripped onto the rammed earth ground, quickly turning from a blooming blood flower into a dim mark.

With its vibrant red and purple scales, the small snake, which seemed to be sending out danger signals everywhere, soon came to a standstill—the spear-like tail had almost torn its body in two. Even the most resilient snake would find it difficult to survive under such circumstances.

The little snake didn't move until it slipped off the spear tip and was kicked into the muddy puddles by a large, armored foot. Meanwhile, a swarm of tiny mosquitoes gathered at the exposed wound, tearing at the flesh and sucking the blood.

Such incidents had occurred countless times in this neatly rammed and sturdy barracks. Even Tersolius was somewhat used to it. If it weren't for the fact that some of the poisonous insects and snakes were so dangerous that his loyal guards wouldn't allow them to be here, he wouldn't even bother letting his men deal with these little trinkets... In any case, no matter how many were killed or even if lime was sprinkled around them, it would hardly make a difference; these things would still appear as they were.

His fingers slowly rubbed against the gold cup, the texture of which he could clearly feel on his skin. This was a gift from His Majesty the Emperor before he left—made by the most skilled goldsmiths in the entire empire. Apart from the magnificent and intricate reliefs, the entire cup was covered with fine lines as thin as a hair, and was inlaid with three rubies the size of a thumbnail. The bottom was also wrapped with a thin silver wire, making it extremely intricate and luxurious, representing the pinnacle of the empire's jewelry craftsmanship.

This cup is so ornately overturned that it doesn't look like something for drinking. It should be placed in a solemn temple, filled with grape juice or fine wine offered to the gods, embellishing myths and legends.

The wine in the glass also looked clear and deep in color, without any apparent value, and exuded a faint aroma of fruit and wood. Just one sip was enough to tell that it was quite valuable.

It was late at night, and the only sounds outside were birdsong and insect chirps. Even though it was autumn and the temperature was dropping, the number and activity of various small creatures here were still impressive, making one feel surrounded by life... Of course, not all of these creatures are always appealing.

After a soft scraping sound, accompanied by a clear cry, a round figure flew in from the barracks entrance, nimbly dodging the lampstands and chairs in the room and avoiding various obstacles, finally landing steadily on top of Tersolius's chair—a raised point specially reserved for birds to grasp and perch on.

Thesolius naturally reached out and removed the small brass tube from the little fat bird's claw... Then, not long after, his expression turned cold. After a brief silence, he turned to look at his personal guard leader:

"Arka, go and fetch Carianados for me..."

229 Operation (4)

No matter how elite or renowned an army may be, or how easily its enemies flee in terror, it is ultimately composed of individuals with innate human needs. Even the strongest and fiercest soldiers, with iron discipline, cannot have bodies of steel; they still need to eat and rest.

With so many strong men gathered together, they consume enormous amounts of food and water every day. Of course, one region cannot provide enough. With several legions now gathered under Tersolius's command, it takes the combined efforts of several provinces to provide sufficient supplies. Every day, countless wagons and fleets of ships move swiftly along wide roads and across broad rivers, delivering all kinds of grains, side dishes, seasonings, and other consumables to the front lines.

Those responsible for transporting food and supplies also need to eat and rest, so a considerable portion of the supplies are consumed on the way. Other losses due to dampness, spoilage, loss, wild animal attacks, and rat gnaws are also common. Therefore, even the strictest commanders will allow a certain degree of loss in the supplies delivered.

Depending on the transportation route, the allowable loss limit will vary. Places with inconvenient roads and harsh, humid environments will naturally receive a larger limit, such as the southern provinces.

This province, bordering the Kingdom of Hols, has a humid climate, making it easy for transported grain to become damp and moldy, even with the best preservation methods. In addition, the mountainous and hilly terrain means that the roads have never been very well-developed.

Therefore, even when supplies were supplied within a province, the transport troops from the southern provinces still received a fairly generous allowance for losses. At least after they arrived, the amount of losses was indeed within the standard after verification and accounting.

Everything seemed fine... except for a flaw revealed in an inconspicuous place.

Extend a finger and gently stroke the head of the round little bird in front of you, letting the soft and elastic feathers run along your fingertip, while reading the information on the note.

As Teresolus watched, he thoughtfully observed the little gray-feathered bird before him. He couldn't help but find it amusing that the little creature pulled a wriggling mealworm from the thin leather pouch on its chest, just like a child taking a snack out of their pocket, tilting its head back and swallowing it in a few gulps.

This was Talina's messenger, capable of flying silently in the night. No one could detect this little creature; even the elite soldiers around the camp failed to notice the bird flying in through the skylight, delivering this intriguing intelligence to him without alarming anyone.

The third supply convoy from the Southern Province reported the unexpected losses they suffered, including but not limited to rotting and mold and road overturning. The amount of loss was almost at the permissible limit, but because there were no fundamental problems, they still passed the inspection smoothly.

But today, when Tarina was conducting her final analysis and judgment based on the data from the integrated shipment, she astutely discovered a problem—on the surface, it was just a grain transport operation with significant losses and frequent problems, and the leader should be reprimanded as punishment for his incompetence.

However, if we analyze all the supply and delivery situations during this period and the past two years together, we can find a problem through the most intuitive data—this situation is too frequent and too regular.

While it's true that conditions in the southern provinces are limited, and such incidents aren't unexpected, if all resource losses occur repeatedly, and each time they happen near the finish line...

...which makes things seem delicate.

Moreover, most of these records are quite vague and unclear, and are only based on the vague records of post stations and towns along the way. Because they always comply with the regulations and only the receiving army can verify and calculate them, they have remained calm and inconspicuous.

However, upon closer examination, the amount of lost materials is quite staggering, representing a considerable sum of money.

Comparing the reports of material losses with the records made by the local officials protecting the people in various towns and villages will reveal even more problems...

The road near Bayate village in Caguaril town. Due to a mudslide caused by prolonged heavy rain, three wagons carrying 347 Priyar of salted fish spoiled and became moldy during transport. Three other wagons and four mules sustained varying degrees of damage and required replacement or repair.

According to records from Bayat village, the mudslide did indeed destroy a section of the road, but prior to that, pedestrians and caravans had already bypassed it, choosing a slightly longer but still traversable route. The village's able-bodied men were quickly organized to clear the mud and rocks from the road, restoring it to passability in just two days... During this period, there were no records of any supply convoys passing through.

For example, last spring, another mudslide destroyed roads, affecting a convoy transporting arrows. A total of 12 units of arrows were buried under the mud, rendering them unusable, and several livestock were also crushed to death...

Local township records show that the team took a wide road, not the side road that was destroyed by the mudslide.

………………

Upon closer investigation, similar incidents were found to be numerous and scattered over a very long period of time. The amount of supplies lost each time remained within a certain limit, which was sufficient to meet the army's requirements. Therefore, the officials and militiamen responsible for escorting the supplies did not receive any substantial punishment.

Just like an ant is unlikely to attract attention, especially when the focus is limited to a small area... but if you broaden your perspective, you can see countless ants scattered everywhere, which is startling and makes you marvel at how many creatures have gathered here without you even realizing it.

If each incident were taken out of context, it would be an ordinary, albeit unfortunate, accident. But when so many accidents come together, even the most righteous and the most foolish person can sense that something is amiss.

As the small parchment scroll in his hand was tossed into the flames, accompanied by a strange, acrid smell, the writing on it turned to ash along with the scroll. Thasorius reattached the small copper tube to the bird's claw, gently nudged the potato-sized object with his finger, and the bird flapped its wings, silently departing the central command tent once more, leaving only a few faint scratch marks on the table.

Rapid, hurried footsteps could be heard outside the barrier, accompanied by slight panting. Alka's hard, cold voice rang out from outside:

"My lord, the logistics supervisor Caglianodos has arrived and is waiting outside the tent."

"Let him in."

As the door of the spacious barracks was gently knocked, an imperial man with a large beard walked in calmly and composedly. The silk cap he wore reflected a subtle golden light under the lamp, and his silk robe was embroidered with roses and peonies. His boots were equally exquisite and sturdy.

The most noticeable feature is the man's back—like that of a poor man loading and unloading cargo at the port, his spine is bent and deformed.

230 Woodworms (1)

Caglianodos, this is his legion's logistics chief.

This man's position is crucial to the army's survival. No matter how powerful an army is, it cannot function without supplies and cannot fight on an empty stomach. Because of his past steady and reliable performance, he now serves as the logistics manager for the entire army, a truly heavy responsibility.

The Sorelius promoted him from a minor clerk in charge of managing warehouses at the post station to his current position because he valued the man's prudence, carefulness, and thriftiness. And since then, the man has never had to worry about supplies.

His difficult early life caused him to have a bent back and deformed bones by the time he was in his thirties. His upper body was unnaturally bent, which became a lifelong disability. He could not even walk fast and had to stop to check the road from time to time.

The man was granted permission to enter the central military tent. His boots, which had been covered in mud from walking on the muddy ground, were now quite dirty, making the beautiful velvet uppers look shabby. Despite his physical limitations, he bowed respectfully to Tersolius the moment he entered, addressing him as "Sir Consul."

"Get up, Carianados. I didn't tell you to come and bow to me... How long until the first phase of supplies is complete?"

Caglianodos straightened his back slightly, a thoughtful expression on his face, while his fingers unconsciously rubbed together. After a while, a look of affirmation appeared on his face:

"At most half a month, sir. At most half a month, we will be able to complete the first phase of preparations and the army can set off."

…………

Tersolius suddenly fell silent, which made the usually composed man somewhat uneasy, and he would occasionally look up and glance at him.

"It sounds like everything is going well... but I have one more question for you to answer."

A slightly curled piece of parchment flew across the table, glided across the smooth lacquered surface, and finally came to a precise stop in front of the man.

"Take a look at these records first, then give me an answer—is this something that would normally happen?"

The man carefully examined the writing on the parchment, his expression shifting from calm to surprise, and finally a hint of panic appeared...

Seeing the change in the other person's expression, Thesorius already knew the answer, and his own expression immediately darkened.

"It seems you also know that this situation is not normal. Although losses in supplies are common, how could there be unexpected losses every time? If it weren't for someone being quick-witted and alert, who knows how long this situation would have continued."

"Although these losses are just a drop in the ocean compared to the supplies we've gathered for the army, we can't afford to be negligent or careless. I can't tolerate any parasites sucking the life out of the army's supply lines... You're my logistics supervisor, so this is your responsibility. I'll have someone help you get a result in these last two weeks, understand?"

The man nodded deeply, his face serious, and his large beard trembled uncontrollably.

"Understood! I'll check right away."

Tersolius waved his hand slightly, and the man nodded and withdrew. Soon, the sound of carriage wheels rolling over the rammed earth could be heard outside, growing fainter and fainter as it quickly faded into the distance, until the shouts and commands from the military camp once again took over.

Under the bright crystal lamp, Tersolis's sharply defined face showed a distinct division between light and shadow, which also made his eyes appear obscure and hidden in the shadow of his eyebrows.

………………

Even without war, a qualified soldier cannot neglect the honing of martial arts skills. This is their means of survival. The cruel and bloody battlefield will never give the weak and incompetent a second chance. They will only use their own blood and sweat to lubricate the enemy's blade, becoming the martial arts skills that the enemy boasts about.

Baria understood this deeply, so he never dared to relax. Even though he had gained what others saw as a meteoric rise to become a member of the legion, only here did he realize that his talent was not outstanding at all. What he had once been complacent and proud of was now just mediocre...

Those who can join the elite legion are all outstanding young men, and all of them have fought their way out from a large number of candidates. Talent is abundant here, and there has never been an incompetent person among those who can stand here.

Therefore, in order to gain a foothold here and to be worthy of his current glorious status, Balia never dared to relax in the slightest. He always urged his friend Caledo to hone his skills together, just like heating and forging a piece of stubborn iron to remove impurities, so that his skills would be more precise and his craft more proficient.

There are no shortcuts to this; it can only be achieved through years of hard work and dedication, and there is no room for falsehood.

It was still the same simple short sword and shield, what Baria was best at, and what his father had taught him since he was a child...

Carefully protecting his side with his shield, he concealed his short sword behind the wide shield, blocking the opponent's view and concealing his intentions, like a snake hiding under fallen leaves, whose only attack would be to inject venom into its prey.

His comrades in the same squad stood on his left and right sides, protecting his flanks, while he also protected the flanks of his comrades. The entire squad cooperated closely, maintaining a strict formation with an almost demanding level of discipline, and advanced step by step.

Two sharp and sturdy spears extended from behind his shoulders to the front. His hands, holding the spears firmly and steadily, were his most powerful shield and support. More spears extended from other places, turning the entire formation into a jungle of steel. Anyone who dared to collide with them was destined to have their head bruised and bloodied, and their bodies piled up like mountains.

They were fully armored as always—Baria had never worn such fine and heavy armor before. The sturdy iron plates, forged and quenched, could shatter blades. Tough leather straps were woven together to cover their entire bodies, and even their calves were wrapped in solid steel plates. The straps fixed to various parts of their bodies distributed the weight to the greatest extent possible, so as not to cause too much burden.

Their pointed helmets covered most of their faces and noses, leaving only their eyes and mouths exposed. The back of their heads and necks were protected by chainmail and sturdy iron bars. Few parts of their bodies were exposed, making them virtually indestructible and impervious to swords and blades. Only in this way could they become part of the imperial army's impregnable defenses.

Their footsteps were heavy and orderly, crushing their opponents like an iron wall. Their opponents were dressed the same, with the same footsteps and the same tactics. There were no fancy moves, only head-on collisions and relentless attrition.

First came the contact of spears. Although the spearheads were only blunt, covered with cotton cloth, and could not cause any harm, the spearmen on both sides were still focused on probing and thrusting, while simultaneously deflecting the opponent's spears, trying to gain the upper hand.

Every now and then, someone would be stabbed by a spear, and the referee would judge the effectiveness of the blow. If it was a fatal weak point or a place that had taken too many hits, the person would be judged dead and would have to retreat from the line of battle, to be replaced by their comrades.

Caledo, who was most skilled with a spear, would occasionally let out a deep shout as his spear thrust out fiercely and swiftly, but most of the time it would only return empty-handed against the sturdy shield or helmet. Balia, on the other hand, held the shield and protected his front tightly. The two cooperated very closely, relying on the shield and the sturdy armor to firmly plant their feet in the ground without the slightest wavering.

The shield and short sword in his hands were prepared for the moment of clash; until then, he had to hold firm and not retreat in the slightest...

As the two sides drew closer, the battle between the elite forces became increasingly fierce. Every now and then, someone would fall to the ground due to serious injuries and leave, while the remaining ones would silently tighten their formation and continue their advance.

The most intense collision inevitably occurred; Baria felt as if a bull had crashed into his shield. His towering opponent clearly possessed considerable strength, causing Baria to involuntarily stumble backward, on the verge of being knocked to the ground…

Just then, a new leader appeared from behind him. His friend Caledo braced his back with his shoulder, allowing him to regain his footing as he was about to fall to the ground, and grit his teeth to hold his own against his opponent.

The shoving of shields, the piercing of swords, the smashing of iron staffs, the chiseling of battle axes, and the back-and-forth slashing of halberds and great axes instantly turned this place into a bloody meat grinder—of course, this is just a metaphor; no blood was spilled, and no one became a corpse. Only one after another, the "fallen" were confirmed to have been hit in vital areas and had their armor destroyed, either with the help of others or by their own efforts, and they left that scorched area.

If the swords in their hands were sharpened weapons, if the iron staffs and battle axes were not safe weapons made of wood... at this moment, this place would surely be a scene of hell, with elites in full armor fighting each other, destined to be extremely fierce, until one side, tormented by death and injury, could no longer hold on and turned to flee.

A heavy, moon-bladed axe slammed down on the shield in Barea's hand. Although it was made of wood wrapped with iron and wouldn't kill anyone, the heavy impact still made Barea grit his teeth, and his originally tight defense was exposed at that moment.

His opponent was far more experienced, and his attacks were seamlessly connected. Even in the crowded ranks, he accurately seized the opportunity, using a fierce charge to widen his opening. The shield slipped from his left hand, and he could only watch as the heavy axe came crashing down on his head...

Even with a sturdy helmet, even with a training axe encased in iron, this blow was destined to injure him and send him crashing down...

Baria did not panic. Instead, he calmly reflected on the brief but intense exchange, summarizing his shortcomings and accumulating more experience to defeat his opponent next time.

However, his reflection and summary this time seems to have come a little too early.

Caledo! His ever-reliable and intelligent friend once again played a crucial role at a critical moment.

Taking advantage of its length, the spear pierced the opponent's throat—which was protected only by a single layer of chainmail—at the very moment of his triumph. Such precision and speed meant that even the slightest deviation would have resulted in striking the sturdy armor plates.

The axe was never swung. His opponent, with a frustrated expression, was dragged away, while he was immediately helped up by his comrades and rejoined the battle...

After a brutal and grueling battle, Baria and his team finally achieved victory at a heavy cost. Although only six men remained standing in their squad, their opponents were completely wiped out.