Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

His Majesty's messenger was not one of the high-ranking and trusted officials he had expected—but a short fellow shrouded in a heavy black robe. For some reason, the count felt a sense of disgust towards him the moment he saw him… just as a normal person, even if they had never seen one before, would not think it was a good thing when they first saw a slimy worm.

Moreover, this guy had absolutely no manners. He stepped into his mansion wearing a pair of shoes covered in mud, making a mess of the waxed, shiny floor. He looked just like a damned vagrant who should be hanged!

Driven by this feeling, he couldn't say anything nice.

"Tell me what you're here for. I think His Majesty the King should give me sufficient support."

After saying this, he calmly sat down in the soft chair, picked up a wine glass from the side, and waited for the servant to pour him some wine.

In the chilly weather, the fine firewood in the fireplace crackled softly. Wisps of smoke rose through the chimney, and one soared into the sky through the side wall of the house.

Just as his lips touched the wine, the count finally heard the other's reply:

"Of course, Your Excellency, I am here on His Majesty's orders, and also to offer you assistance."

"What can you do to help me? Forgive my bluntness, but I only saw you come alone, and I don't think you can do anything by yourself."

"On the contrary, sir, on the contrary... hehehehe!"

The other person suddenly let out a strange laugh, and then made a slight gesture.

The wine glass in his hand suddenly made a crisp sound as liquid was poured in. Thinking that the servants had come without orders, he turned around angrily, about to scold these unruly servants... but suddenly his whole body stiffened.

The bottle in front of me was suspended in mid-air, and in the middle of the bottle, a small shadow extended out of the darkness, like the shadow of a fireplace.

244 Planning (2)

With a whistle, the cavalrymen rushed towards a troop outside the city like swirling clouds. Before they even got close, a dense rain of arrows covered them, pinning their dying bodies to the ground and catching the Hols scout squad off guard as they tried to dodge the deadly "rain."

Before their spears even touched the blood, their opponents were already torn to pieces in panic. As the cavalrymen's fiery red cloaks swirled and swept past, all the surviving resisters were pulverized, leaving only limbs and broken bodies scattered on the ground. Not a single one could escape; they were often met with a sharp arrow shot from behind or a flying lasso.

Tuo Moyi pulled his spear from his opponent's broken chainmail. The sharp spearhead was undamaged, still gleaming coldly and unbreakable.

This was the last enemy he could see. His squad members had already begun gathering the scattered enemy horses, looting their armor and valuables, and gleefully stuffing them into their saddlebags. He, too, stripped the dead man of his elaborate chainmail, folded it into a small pouch, and placed it in the leather bag on his saddle. The enemy's spear was broken, so he swung his sword and severed the connection between the spearhead and the shaft. He then carefully collected the rather exquisitely crafted spearhead as well.

Given the extravagance of his attire, such pettiness seemed rather stingy. But Tuo Moyi hadn't yet recovered from his past life... He always felt like he was still that shepherd who herded and hunted on the grasslands, having to scavenge everything useful to prevent his cattle, sheep, women, and children from freezing to death in winter. Ironware was especially precious; he would even collect iron nails and scraps that had fallen on the ground and ask a blacksmith to smelt them.

But in reality, he was now wearing neat and precise chainmail, a sturdy and shiny face helmet, and slatted protective gear on his hands and feet. He was armed to the teeth from head to toe. Whether it was the horse he was riding, the spear and bow he was carrying, or anything else, they were all top-quality items. Each of them would have been worth exchanging for a flock of fat sheep in the past, and they were often priceless. Once he had them in his hands, no one would be willing to trade them away.

One of his brothers died on the battlefield fighting the empire, which didn't surprise him. This was a perilous undertaking, and if he could manage to salvage something, all would be well. If he couldn't, there was nothing he could do; he'd consider it a wasted trip. Even upon hearing the news of his brother's death, he only lamented the loss of a male member to the family, knowing this year would be even more difficult.

But what happened next was completely unexpected... The Khan fled with 13 tribes, the Empire came, occupied their lands and pastures, and then declared that everyone would become subjects of the Empire. Just when everyone was in a state of panic, what awaited them was not murderous soldiers and blood-stained blades, but a group of officials in robes and countless craftsmen.

...Then, life gradually became easier. With the empire's control, tribes no longer dared to slaughter each other, nor did they engage in bloody battles for water, sheep, and pasture. When food was scarce, they could exchange their cattle and sheep hides for various grains and vegetables transported by the empire, which was far more profitable than the clandestine trade of the past. Grain, in particular, could be stored and consumed until the following winter, and far fewer people starved to death.

Many people have started learning to farm, and their current rulers greatly encourage this behavior. Not only can they get free seeds, but they can also borrow oxen and farm tools for free. Although no one has eaten the food they grow yet, some have already tasted the vegetables they grow... How should I put it? Even when he set off, tiny seedlings had already sprouted in the carefully turned soil next to their tent.

The emperor of the empire recruited them to become warriors, promising them the right to spoils of war and the privileges of soldiers… He felt no qualms about it; the peoples of the steppes revered the strong, and since the empire had proven its power, serving this country was only natural. This was the norm in that land: the strong annexed the weak, and the weak submitted to the strong… not to mention they could even share in the spoils. So he came, and joined the ranks of the regent of Tersolius.

Thinking of those seedlings, a strange emotion suddenly welled up inside him. He felt a longing to go back and see how much those little things had grown… to see how fat the sheep had become…

"Thanks to Tuo Moyi, the matter is settled, and not a single one of them ran away."

Moerqi, who lived in the tent next to his, was wiping the blood from his face and urging his horse to come to his side.

"Then let's go, we can't stay here too long."

Then, dressed in sleighs, these light cavalrymen, who came and went like the wind, vanished in the blink of an eye like a fiery red cloud, leaving behind only corpses. Even the slightly better clothes were stripped off, just like a leaf turned over by a gust of wind, revealing its white back.

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

The city is being locked down... The Earl is realizing this fact.

The Imperial's massive cavalry is rampaging through the surrounding roads, intercepting messengers and scouts, cutting off communication between cities, and tearing apart any lone prey like a pack of wolves, leaving only flesh and carcasses. They even shoot down any strange-looking flying creatures...

As things stand, communication with the outside world has become increasingly difficult, and even large-scale military operations pose a danger. Communication channels are being gradually blocked, and the situation has reached a critical juncture.

The city already had a large stockpile of food and supplies. Knowing the city's importance, the Hols nobles had spared no effort in supporting him, with large quantities of supplies being transferred there daily. However, the ever-growing army had also led to unprecedented food consumption, making him feel uneasy and uneasy.

Although things seemed to be getting worse, the count was not nearly as anxious as he had been a few days ago... or rather, he now harbored a kind of expectation—expecting that the empire's renowned and powerful general, the high-ranking governor of Tersolius, would immediately send his army to besiege his city, which might solve the current predicament.

Judging from the current situation, things are developing in that direction... Those light cavalry, like a pack of wolves, are the vanguard of the army. They will be responsible for clearing and scouting the army's path. Given my current situation, I estimate that it won't be long before I see that endless expanse of red flags.

He had given orders to have all the tall trees around the city felled to prevent the enemy from using the wood to build their infamous and terrifying siege engines. He also ordered that the felled timber be transported back to the city, and if it couldn't be brought back, to be burned. In any case, it couldn't be left for others.

The wind blowing from the east side of the city wall carried a bone-chilling cold, causing him to wrap his fox fur cloak tighter around himself—this cloak was made from only the softest and warmest fur of the fox, meticulously sewn together with fine stitches. It appeared as a single piece on the outside, with the distinct divisions only visible when the inner silk lining was torn open, ensuring warmth even in the freezing cold when breath turned to frost.

Three huge wooden crates swayed and rattled on the carriage as it drove into the inner city, where they were then carefully escorted by soldiers and carried into the dungeon by slaves.

Including those delivered in the previous two weeks, there are now ten such boxes in his dungeon, each containing different goods. According to the short, black-robed man, only by using all ten goods together can they achieve the best effect and ensure the greatest possible success.

Despite knowing this was their greatest trump card, the Count couldn't help but feel doubt and unease—if these things could truly kill Tersolius amidst tens of thousands of troops, then what king or noble in the world could these men not kill? Wouldn't this organization, wielding such mysterious power, become their greatest threat? ...

If it weren't for the imminent threat, he would have been on high alert with these guys, treating them like dangerous vipers. But now…

He felt that the entire Kingdom of Hols was trying to fight a tiger with the help of a venomous snake. While the tiger was also no match for the venom, the venomous snake could bite them at any moment.

"Have you completed your preparations?"

When the signature light, soft footsteps came from the side, the count already knew who it was, so he asked directly.

“That’s right, Your Excellency Earl. Including the three who arrived today, all preparations are complete. We are just waiting for our prey to enter the designated hunting grounds. However…”

"Just what?"

"However, we can only succeed if we lower the target's guard. Before that, the city must withstand the army's attack. There can be no problems for at least a week, otherwise it's all just empty talk..."

"You don't need to worry about that..."

A horn sounded in the distance. The count looked up and saw the banner of the Pegasus Horse Treading on the Sun coming from the south, along with the banner of his own lord, the Duke—this was the last wave of reinforcements, and the biggest deployment was needed to maintain the defensive line along the river.

"Although I have always maintained a relatively conservative attitude, I am not so vulnerable. If I can't even do that, then I don't need to worry about it anymore."

The robust Hols man touched his gaunt cheeks, his long fox fur cloak swaying slightly in the air, occasionally being lifted by the wind to reveal the gold-carved curved sword at his waist—after all, he was not a good-for-nothing who only knew how to indulge in pleasure, but a true military nobleman who had maintained his current status through war and bloodshed.

"From now on, whether we live or die is entirely up to fate..."

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

"Order!"

"4235..."

"Team 5, number 47... Open the door."

After verifying the passwords and making records, the cavalrymen, laden with spoils, returned to their camp. They chatted enthusiastically along the way, showing off their trophies to their comrades. Blood dripped from the heads hanging on their horses, and some of the cuts were still very fresh, clearly indicating that they had just been cut off not long ago.

The accompanying recorders were responsible for documenting each person's achievements to accumulate merits and distribute rewards. Here, these bloodied heads did not appear horrifying or terrifying; instead, they evoked joy, representing tangible rewards and honors. This made the other units, who were not involved in the battle, green with envy and full of complaints.

"These barbarians..."

A sergeant looked on with envy at the smug guys and grumbled indignantly. Of course, he only dared to mutter this to himself in a very low voice. If the military judge found out, he would be considered to be deliberately stirring up trouble and would not have a good ending.

The army is advancing toward that important hub city. These heavy infantrymen, who form the cornerstone of the legion, naturally cannot move as quickly as the cavalry to gain merit and spoils before others. The real attack on the city is when they will play their role.

His companion also wore an expression of envy and jealousy, but his hands were not slow at all. In this time of lateness, he was sharpening his sword and maintaining his armor to prevent rust and damage in the humid southern climate.

“These Kurist people are indeed quite formidable. Now that they’re on our side, you’d better be careful what you say in the future.”

"...I know, I know, I just said I'm used to it... Just two years ago we were fighting back and forth, who knew things would change so quickly."

"Stop standing there daydreaming. Clean up your thing too. If it's rusty, you'll get a beating outside. Ten lashes for every rust mark, you can calculate it yourself. I certainly don't want to get one..."

Recalling the beating he received a few days ago, the soldier's face twitched, and he worked even harder, completely withdrawing his attention and throwing himself wholeheartedly into his work.

"Have you noticed? The land here seems to be quite good, flat and fertile. With just one cow, a man can support his whole family."

"It still can't compare to the land in the central part of the empire... I wonder if I'll be able to save enough money to buy a few plots there after this war. Then, whatever I do, I'll be able to live comfortably. If I have extra money, I'll also buy a strong ox, and maybe even a couple more slaves. I'll have to work hard this time..."

Amidst the crackling of the torches, the two men's slightly excited conversation continued until curfew. Tomorrow would be another fine day, allowing them to continue their journey...

245 Preparation (1)

The behemoth before them had jet-black, glossy fur, as smooth and lustrous as the finest silk. A gentle touch revealed the resilient texture of the fur, the strong, unyielding muscles beneath, and the rushing blood coursing through its veins under the compression of its powerful heart.

At this distance, you can directly feel a powerful and terrifying vitality contained within the creature before you, and it displays itself so unreservedly and unrestrainedly, making you understand its strength, its agility, and its excellence.

The finest bean and grass feed, mixed with salt and eggs—nutritious enough to fill even a human—filled the large manger, yet it was now disappearing at a visible rate. It was all being chewed up and swallowed by the powerful jaws.

The powerful muscles beneath its forelimbs, which twitch slightly from time to time, support the smooth black fur, which moves like a snake underneath. The blood flowing through the bulging veins in certain areas can be heard with a faint sound. The fine mane has been carefully trimmed and woven so that it does not get in the way when it is draped in a vest.

Tersolius was grooming his old companion's fur, brushing away the dust with a fine-bristled boar bristle brush and cleaning away the fleas hiding within with a special comb, making the dusty fur shiny and smooth again.

To be honest, this is a huge undertaking. Moss's body is exceptionally strong and large, and its fur covers a vast area. Even a rough grooming would take at least a morning. Moreover, the process involves dust flying everywhere and fleas crawling all over the place, so it requires quite a bit of patience.

But what Terzolith had in abundance was patience, or rather, a general without patience is a terrible thing. This also means that he cannot plan before acting and will do things rashly and carelessly. In war, this often means irreversible death and defeat.

There was no need to pull the reins; a gentle pat on Moss's rock-solid shoulders was enough to make the massive warhorse move on its own, allowing Tesorus to brush every part of the horse. They had long since developed an unspoken understanding, and sometimes they didn't even need to exchange glances. Sometimes, just by the movement of their breaths, this magnificent warhorse could understand its master's intentions.

Tesorus worked until the sun was at its warmest at noon before stopping. He patted the big guy's neck one last time, and Moss snorted twice, tilted his head and rubbed his neck against Tesorus's shoulder, then lowered his head to continue eating.

Moss's appetite was even more extravagant than that of an average Passatrian warhorse, but Tersolius knew very well that the fellow was often not actually that hungry, he was just craving food...

Leaving the secluded stable, Tersolius straightened his cotton shirt. Two grooms accompanying the army were bowing beside him—they were responsible for taking care of the governor's mounts and ensuring that these precious and magnificent Passatian warhorses would not encounter any problems... Of course, Tersolius would often do these things himself, saving them a lot of effort.

"No matter how much it throws a tantrum after that, you must not feed it anymore... This guy is just greedy, if you don't take care of that, it will overeat and hurt itself."

The two grooms nodded immediately, and Tersolius threw down the bucket and brush in his hands and turned to walk towards his dwelling.

From here, you can already see the vast plains in the distance. The crops have long been harvested, and the weather is getting colder and colder. There is nothing to cover the view at all. A huge military camp stretching for dozens of miles has been established here.

Just as he was about to reach his barracks, he suddenly stopped, thought for a moment, and changed direction, turning from the doorway toward the camp area on the right.

The artisans accompanying the army were busy using axes and adzes to chop and chisel sturdy wood, using planes to smooth out uneven areas, and reinforcing important parts with iron bars and driving nails into them. They were extremely busy.

There are no purely civilian laborers in the empire's army. Every man in the country has received a certain level of military training. After being conscripted into the army, they become auxiliary soldiers, receive basic equipment, and are responsible for complicated tasks such as transporting supplies. There are also a considerable number of auxiliary soldiers here who help the craftsmen process timber.

Upon seeing him arrive, the head of the artisan camp immediately led his men to greet him, while the others didn't even turn their heads, focusing intently on their work.

"How are the preparations going?"

Surrounded by several master craftsmen, he walked through the bustling construction site. Unlike ordinary craftsmen and apprentices, they no longer needed to exert themselves. Most of the time, they were responsible for overseeing the overall project and ensuring that it did not go astray. The timber piled up here was all sturdy and thick, high-quality material that had been transported from warehouses in the southern provinces. It had already been air-dried and was free from the risk of cracking.

"Seventy percent has been completed..."

An elderly man with a white beard was the chief craftsman, highly respected throughout the empire. He had experienced countless missions like this, accompanying the army to build war machines, and was considered the most experienced among them.

"The wood in Norsca Province is indeed excellent. There are only so many old trees left in the province now. They were all prepared in advance, lowered down the river, and then dried and stored in the southern provinces. Now it's just right, and it will be ready to use in a few days."

"Moreover, we have prepared a sufficient amount of iron this time, which allows us to use more iron reinforcements and significantly reduce maintenance costs."

Tersolius nodded slightly. These were all pre-prepared components. Once transported to the enemy city, they could be used to immediately construct towering towers, sturdy battering rams, and powerful heavy catapults. These were essential for attacking fortified cities; otherwise, human lives would have to be sacrificed.

He didn't intend to linger in the city for too long, so he prepared an exceptionally large number of engineering machines. There were no enemy troops on this plain who dared to fight his army in the field, so he could prepare at his leisure, waiting for the army to arrive, and then crush the Hols' resistance with an overwhelming force in a short time and break through the fortified city.

Through precise calculations and strict control, the specifications, size, and flatness of these components have very strict standards. Moreover, these are things that have been made in a familiar way, so they can be easily disassembled and transported. When the time comes, they can be assembled according to their numbers and positions at a very fast speed, and the city wall can be bombarded on the same afternoon.

A weathered-looking craftsman is measuring and gesturing on the surface with a steel ruler, inspecting it according to standard dimensions. If there is even the slightest deviation, he will loudly reprimand the person in charge and order them to make immediate corrections. In each area, there are people with axes and adzes chopping and chiseling large pieces of wood, cutting and separating them with saws, and using planes, chisels, and various other tools to trim and polish them. Finally, a layer of anti-corrosion and moisture-proof wood oil is applied to the surface.

This oil is also extracted from the fruit of a tall tree. It has excellent drying and moisture-proof and anti-corrosion properties, and is widely distributed. Every city in the central and southern parts of the empire grows it to some extent.

After staying a while longer and confirming that the progress here was in line with expectations and there were no problems, Tersolius left the artisans' camp with the respectful farewell of the people in charge. He then traveled around and arrived at a new camp.

Before he even got close to the camp gate, he could hear the lively sounds inside. Countless mouths were cheering and arguing loudly, making the place as noisy as a vegetable market.

This would normally draw reprimands and punishments from officers. But today it's permissible—a day or two of rest is often given before a major battle to allow soldiers to relieve stress and prepare.

A large open space near the central square had been surrounded by people. Dust was flying and footsteps were hurried. Two people were wrestling, grabbing each other's clothes and pulling at each other's hands and feet, trying to break each other's lower body and throw their opponent hard to the ground.

The soldiers surrounding them were in high spirits, cheering wildly for the two men in the arena. A quick glance revealed that more than half of them were mountain archers, while the remaining half were elite soldiers from Karila's chief vanguard of a hundred men.

As expected, Colin and Carila were standing in the middle. Judging from the armor they were wearing and the weapons scattered on the ground, they must have gotten into a fight during the competition, which naturally turned into a wrestling match.

As expected, Colin was at a disadvantage. Karila was tall and had very strong long legs. She stood firmly in the yellow dust as if rooted to the ground. No matter how hard she tried, she could not budge her an inch. In fact, she was being pushed backward all the time, and her face turned red.

Just as Tersolius approached the circle, the tall Carila seized an opportunity, suddenly exerted force upwards, and amidst panicked screams, lifted Colin off the ground, turning to throw him to the ground as if he were a sack.

Seeing that defeat was imminent at this final moment, Colin gritted his teeth and grabbed the other's somewhat messy hair. Amid Carila's angry curses, the two rolled onto the ground together, tangled up in a fight amidst the scraping of armor plates, both of them getting heated.

The onlookers clearly hadn't expected things to turn out this way. Even the mountain archers, who had just sighed in regret, thinking their leader was about to lose, rushed over to pull them apart as the two got so into the fight that they were about to lose control. If they continued fighting, something bad was likely to happen.

The two were blaming each other, and they didn't seem to have calmed down yet; they could break into a fight at any moment.

Although the two seemed to be at odds, like mortal enemies, Tersolius was not in a hurry at all, and just watched from outside with a smile.

Things like this happen every few days. They seem to be natural enemies, always ready to fight. Even if their relationship gets better, they'll still start fighting without hesitation.

For them, this kind of competitive interaction is a strange way of getting along, but it doesn't affect anything else. They still eat and drink as usual.

"Both of them are free?"

The soldiers parted in unison, each with a look of surprise and panic on their face. There was a slight commotion, but they quickly quieted down and, led by their officers, paid their respects to the governor.

Colin and Carila were also somewhat surprised, and then they stood up a little awkwardly and greeted him with a bow, feeling a bit guilty.