Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

"Don't look at me like that, Your Excellency. I know what to do. Rest assured, we haven't been involved all this time for some trivial reason like toying with you. This war is equally important to us."

"That would be for the best, sir. I very much hope that I will open my eyes again tomorrow, instead of having my head become a symbol of the Empire's glory, witnessing the Imperial legions descend into chaos, and the news of Archon Tersolius's death spreading far and wide... For me now, nothing is more precious than this news."

"Of course, things will go as you wish."

The man in black sounded extremely confident. He grinned, revealing a set of neat, white teeth:

"When that time comes, you will hear chaotic sounds coming from the Imperial Army's camp, and you will hear people crying loudly. If you are brave enough, you may be able to take this opportunity to launch an attack. If you want to be more secure, you can just stay on the city wall and solve all the problems."

"Of course, the premise is that you have to hold on and not be completely torn apart before I complete my mission..."

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

An armor-donning ceremony is underway, an unimaginable honor for the master of the ceremony... but also an excellent challenge.

A finely stitched linen shirt is worn over a linen undershirt. This tough, thick fabric will serve as the first layer of armor, providing sufficient cushioning between the hard steel and the soft skin to ensure that one will not get hurt.

The tightly woven chainmail fits snugly against the body without hindering movement, and also renders slashing and chopping attacks ineffective, serving as the second layer of armor.

The third layer is a hard armor made of tough steel scales, each scale perfectly flawless with gilded edges. They are tightly packed together, thick and sturdy, strong enough to withstand the chopping of a great axe and the thrusting of a spear, extending from the neck down to below the knees.

Then came the sturdy leg guards and iron boots made of large iron plates riveted and stacked together, which would help her trample enemy lands and walls.

Golden scales formed shoulder guards protected her neck and shoulder blades, while leather strips inlaid with copper studs and plates hung down from her shoulders, forming a tassel-like decoration.

The pointed helmet with red feathers had a double-layered neck that provided tight protection, with only the eyes and mouth exposed for visibility, and the nose covered by a nose guard.

The handguards, which heavily wrap around the forearm and wrist, combine the flexibility of chainmail with the sturdiness of steel plates. The leather stitched inside the palm ensures sufficient friction against swords and axe handles, preventing them from becoming slippery and slippery due to blood.

This is the most resilient defense on this land, enough to keep its master calm amidst a hail of arrows and to make him indomitable in the midst of battle. Facing countless swords and spears.

Finally, the two finely crafted, smooth spiked battle axes were gently lifted in Tersolius's hands and then placed into his raised hands.

"With this weapon in hand, my chief, you shall present me with victory. You shall trample this city and crush the enemy for me."

………………

The towering siege towers were successfully connected to the city walls without much resistance, causing the defenders of the entire city to let out miserable groans. The sound of catapults cutting through the air had never been so intense. Almost every moment, powerful stone projectiles pounded against the city walls, causing the defenders to flee in panic, unable to cope.

The army had arrived at the city walls, and the endless infantry formations stood ready, their shields forming a formidable wall, their swords and spears poised to drink the enemy's blood and crush all resistance.

The sword was already drawn...

All ten siege towers achieved their objectives without exception. The archers on the towers used a storm of arrows to cover their comrades, forcing the defenders on the city wall to keep their heads down. One after another, people were hit by arrows and fell to the ground. If they were not careful, they would be swept away like wheat being harvested.

Both sides desperately fired arrows from their cover, the air filled with sharp whooshing sounds, and the raven of death was shrieking, taking one soul after another from their bodies.

The defenders and attackers clashed violently at the junction of the siege towers and the city walls, followed by a brutal and merciless carnage. The sounds of steel colliding and grinding blended together, shields shoved each other, swords stabbed each other, and iron clubs smashed against each other's heads.

This is a completely genuine and primal confrontation, a contest of physical strength, skill, and discipline. It is the bloodiest, the most brutal, and the most terrifying, where the slightest misstep can lead to defeat.

The imperial soldiers' armor gleamed in a continuous, shimmering silver sheen. Their superior weapons, sturdy shields, and absolute discipline gradually gave them the upper hand. In the brutal melee of armored combat, they steadily gained the upper hand, pushing the enemy back from the city walls and forcing them to retreat step by step, gradually losing their courage and confidence to resist.

On the city walls, the Holsteiners' dark green armor was gradually retreating, relentlessly encroaching upon and devoured by the terrifying torrent of armored warriors. The process was slow, yet horrifying. Every step was accompanied by death, every step by screams and wails… Countless soldiers fell to the blades, and many more would meet the gleaming spears and sharp blades, continuing their journey to becoming corpses.

…………

The city walls were on the verge of collapse... All the nobles realized this, which made them pale and helpless, and they all focused their attention on the tall figure in front of them.

King Julius remained silent. He slowly turned to look at the Earl, and after receiving a nod of approval, he straightened his head, took a deep breath, and then exhaled the air at an extremely even and slow pace.

After repeating this several times, his fingers tightened around the sword in his hand, and his face beneath the crown and helmet hardened. Watching the retreating defensive line, he issued a new order without hesitation:

"Continue, let the third group replace them, execute all those who back down, bring my flag here, and today no one shall retreat!"

………………

The situation became increasingly tense. On the narrow city walls, casualties were rising steadily. Although the Imperial soldiers were well-trained and disciplined, the Hols had a steady stream of reinforcements and were more familiar with the terrain. Through clever planning, they were always able to send reinforcements in time, successfully halting the Imperial offensive.

Every section of the city wall was repeatedly contested, and every attack and retreat left behind a trail of corpses. Later, the battle was no longer fought on solid ground; at the forefront of the fighting, people would frequently trip over the bodies.

Many soldiers' weapons were damaged, and exhausted Imperial soldiers were rotated out by their brethren to replace their damaged weapons, recover their nearly depleted strength, and wait for the next battle.

Not a single Imperial soldier felt fear or retreat; on the contrary, their morale was high, their battle cries were deafening, and they were eager to throw themselves back into the fray, take the enemy's head, and win glory and honor for themselves.

Almost everyone believed—today, at this very moment!—that this ravaged city would crumble before the legion, that they would succumb to the empire's sword or face certain annihilation.

The sturdy, heavy siege towers continuously rotated and deployed troops. No Holstein could destroy these behemoths; their catapults had long been destroyed, and the dense rain of arrows and the well-prepared legionary soldiers would not allow them to pour oil on the siege towers. Ordinary rockets were also useless against the damp furs already soaked with moisture.

It seemed the Hols had held off the attack thanks to their numerical superiority, but they were suffering terrible losses under the repeated assaults of the Imperial elite legions, their own soldiers' corpses halting the advance of the front line. Everyone knew this couldn't last; a terrible collapse was brewing. When the casualties reached a critical point, their courage would quickly vanish...

The king's flag was planted on the highest tower, so that everyone could see it. This greatly boosted morale, and the hundreds of deserters who were beheaded or hanged made them understand the consequences of retreating.

This left the lords with no way to refuse, so they could only keep feeding their soldiers into this meat grinder, each one heartbroken and hoping that the imperialists would make little progress and retreat on their own.

A terrifying stench of blood lingered in the air, and no one could escape this pungent smell. Arrows flying through the air were deadly ghosts, and people would be hit in vital areas from time to time, falling down with screams or groans. Their bodies were not even cleaned up in time, and could only become stepping stones for others.

The archers on the siege towers were giving their all to support the infantry, suppressing the enemy with arrows fired from their powerful bows and crossbows, creating bursts of blood amidst the dark sea of ​​people.

The once-shiny armor quickly lost its shine, the smooth shields lost their smoothness, and the sharp swords became chipped and dented... Everything here was being consumed, being consumed at an unprecedented rate in this brutal struggle, all to become precious bargaining chips in exchange for the final victory.

252 Siege (5)

It was another terrible shock.

The veteran was breathing heavily; he felt he could no longer hold his sword. His rank in front had just been torn to pieces again, and now it was his turn to stand at the front...

This is a terrible thing. In the past, when his confidence hadn't been shaken, when he was still confident in his martial arts and luck, he would have gladly stood at the front. He wanted to earn more rewards through the heads of his enemies and his own efforts, to have those jingling gold coins clinking in his pockets. Some glittering, wonderful things could buy him anything he wanted.

But even if he were given gold now, he wouldn't want to stand here. His confidence had long been lost, and he couldn't possibly fight and wear down such a powerful opponent. If the merciful Ephas could give him a chance, even the smallest one, he would not hesitate to use every means at his disposal to escape from here, leave far away, and never come back.

But he knew it was wishful thinking. Not only would the powerful enemy in front of him not let him leave, but the royal guards behind him would not allow him to retreat even a step. Despair was spreading in his heart, like a venomous snake crawling through his internal organs, and finally plunging deep into his beating heart, making his heart beat even more violently.

No matter how lovely or precious the gold was, it couldn't save his life at this moment. He was pushed forward by his comrades like a wooden stake, facing the steel wall that crashed down once again...

In an instant, he was struck three times, from his left front and below. The first blow was blocked by his shield, leaving a deep mark. The second blow was a heavy iron staff that slammed into his shoulder, and he let out a low scream as he heard the sound of his bones shattering.

The third blow was like a sharp, spiked battle axe slashing upwards, cutting deep into his armpit and tearing a large hole in this vulnerable spot. He could almost feel his tendons being severed. A large amount of blood gushed down his side. He felt like a ripped leather water bag. In that instant, there was no pain, only endless numbness that swept over half of his body. When the terrible pain suddenly overwhelmed his sanity, he barely had time to scream before staggering and falling to the side.

This instinctive reaction allowed him to escape the ensuing surge of people, preventing him from being trampled to death immediately.

He knew he was going to die...

Blood flowed continuously from his armpit. His right arm was completely numb. With just a couple of touches, he felt his shoulder, which had been mostly severed. The bones were separated, and his collarbone and scapula were broken, connected only by a layer of skin and flesh. The blood had penetrated into his chest to a depth a palm's width. Blood was gushing from his veins, and here, no one had the strength to help him. Those who fall in the front row are always the most miserable.

In just a few minutes, he no longer had the energy to watch the clashing spears and the screams of the pierced, mutilated, and chopped-up people. He could clearly feel the thick, warm blood spreading and flowing down his body, into his pants and onto the ground, quickly turning cold, just like his body temperature was dropping.

His consciousness gradually became hazy, and his breathing became more difficult. His eyes began to gleam with a white light, and he remained leaning against a pile of broken bricks until he finally stopped breathing.

His consciousness returned to that earth-shattering, brutal day—an entire hundred-man squad was crushed and torn apart in the blink of an eye, the hooves of horses, covered in limbs and flesh, galloping past them. The horrific sound pierced his ears, tearing at his soul, and the cries of the victims echoed in his mind day and night… as if he had long since died under the cavalry's hooves, and what remained now was merely a remnant soul…

Death is ever-present.

………………

The battle lines were being fought over repeatedly, and each tower required a huge sacrifice to hold. The Imperials were also suffering losses, but their discipline and morale, far superior to that of the Holstein soldiers, allowed them to cooperate effectively. Coupled with their superior, heavy armor, sharp and sturdy weapons, and the continuous support of archers from the towers, their exchange ratio was so low that even the most carefree and incompetent lord would turn pale with anxiety and despair about the upcoming battle.

Every wounded Imperial soldier received timely aid. They were even able to transfer the wounded to the rear through relays within their tight formation. Their heavy armor and excellent discipline made these elite soldiers extremely difficult to kill, and each thrust and slash of their weapons cut down a swathe of enemy lives like wheat being harvested. The psychological pressure from their advance and cries grew increasingly immense. More and more routed soldiers were executed, and more reserves were rotated onto the city walls. Every second, the Holsteins paid a price.

The brutal carnage continued for an unknown period of time. Blood seeped deep into the cracks of the city walls' bricks, leaving its mark for a long time to come. Limbs, torn flesh, entrails, viscous fluid, and brain matter were scattered everywhere. This was not a place for cowards to set foot, not a place for the weak to survive, and certainly not a place for lone wolves to excel—this was a meat grinder composed of discipline and steel, long and short blades and blunt instruments, crushing the victims' bodies and souls every single second.

Although the Imperial officers had anticipated the stalemate on the battlefield, they were still dissatisfied and angry about it, and they all volunteered to lead their men to crush the enemy's resistance and break the deadlock.

Despite the crowd's outrage, Tersolius remained unmoved. Instead of issuing more aggressive orders, he commanded his men to approach and wear down the Horus people slowly and deliberately, without demanding that they capture the walls as quickly as possible. He instructed them to maintain their formation and take turns attacking, constantly depleting the lives and morale of the Horus.

Thesolius was notoriously stingy on the battlefield. He was stingy with the lives of his soldiers unless absolutely necessary, and he was stingy with impulsive, thoughtless decisions unless there was no other way. He preferred to sacrifice fewer lives to gain more from the enemy and did not want any of his soldiers to die for no reason. Like a shrewd businessman, he always wanted to acquire valuable goods at a lower price.

While a fierce offensive could break through the enemy's resistance in a short time, it would also cause his troops to suffer more casualties. The city was already in his grasp, and he knew that if he continued to wear it down, the Hols would be the first to collapse. They would bleed to death in front of his legion and suffer a miserable defeat, while his losses would be minimized.

To perfectly achieve these goals, there are certain places he must conquer, turning them into terrifying meat grinders, in order to gain more advantages...

Karila had been waiting beside him for a long time, her heavy armor gleaming silver. Her personal hundred-man squad stood silently and menacingly behind her, their heavy weapons—axes, spears, and staffs—specifically designed for attacking fortified positions, already poised and ready to take the enemy's life and tear their bodies apart at any moment.

He turned his head, the sound emanating from his throat carrying a clanging, metallic quality, revealing a terrifying stench of bloodshed:

"Put on your armor and charge into battle, my direct champion. Take Tower 1 and the surrounding 30-caril area under our control. The Mountain Archer Brigade will provide you with cover."

"Yes, my lord."

Karila silently turned and left, leading her hundred-man squad up the slope to the siege tower. Their armor reflected a blinding, cold light in the sunlight, like a sharp blade drawn from its sheath.

The mountain archers, clad in chainmail and fur, also set off immediately, swiftly following behind under Colin's leadership, ready to overwhelm the resisting enemy with a rain of arrows.

The area around the central army was silent, with only the wind blowing through the array of soldiers and spears. No one noticed the subtle color changes that flashed by in the dark corners nearby, before settling back down, like ripples on the surface of water left by a gentle breeze.

………………

The situation deteriorated rapidly in the blink of an eye, and the arrival of a new force caused the Holsian defenses to crumble.

Almost every soldier in this unit was clad in two or three layers of heavy armor. They strolled leisurely amidst the swords and arrows, while their powerful heavy weapons rapidly created gruesome, mangled corpses, easily tearing apart, crushing, and devouring one hundred-man squad after another, leaving behind only death and bloodshed.

No army could stand against them. The fierce mountain archers, with their terrifying discipline and teamwork, inflicted heavy casualties on them. Their accurate and powerful heavy arrows always found their mark. One soldier after another was shot in the face and fell to the ground, causing more chaos. Others hurriedly ducked, trying to rely on their sturdy helmets to resist this terrible killing method, and then retreated step by step before the armored soldiers.

Carila swung her axe like a whirlwind, her right axe effortlessly slicing through the side of a helmet, shattering cheekbones and teeth, and finally cutting off half a nose, pulling it out from the other side of the face, the blade strewn with bits of flesh and bone.

With a fierce horizontal slash, the left-hand axe tore through the thin armor at the neck, and with a brutal pull, ripped a head and half of the flesh into the air. Then, with a swift spin, it used the armor-piercing spike on its back to chip open a hard helmet from above, and gently pulled it back, allowing the half-corpse to block three attacks from the pursuing enemy.

A cruel smile played on her lips as she wielded two axes with the dexterity of fingertips. Each part of her weapon could deliver a devastating blow; no one could withstand a single blow from her. In this brutal, head-on clash, Karila was like a highly efficient and savage machine, relentlessly turning her enemies into minced meat and limbs, severing their bodies, tearing off their heads, ripping open their chests, and letting their entrails spill out! All enemies crumbled before the champion!

The world's strongest and finest armor and her well-coordinated subordinates are her most reliable support. Her well-trained slaves, whose discipline and honor have been strengthened, are among the finest soldiers of this era. Give them respect, provide them with strength, equip them with fine armor, and arouse their pride and rage. They will crush any powerful enemy for their master and transform into a raging pride of lions!

They knew better than any soldier how to use their weapons. They knew where the enemy's vitals were located, and even more so, where the weaknesses in their armor lay—no attack was in vain; they always achieved results, leaving the enemy either wounded or dead, screaming in agony.

As the sharpest spear and the most formidable sword in their ranks, Karila faced no formidable foe. Fear and death spread beneath her ferocious power. Everything belonging to the Hols within this crucial tower node was being destroyed and annihilated. Even the chipped and broken edges of her axes posed no obstacle. Her armor was stained crimson with blood, her golden hair plastered to her face, making her resemble a bloodthirsty demon, a cruel Asura, causing her enemies to tremble with fear. Sluggish and easily succumbed, their lives were reaped even faster.

Once the nearby high ground was captured by the mountain people, the enemy's retreat accelerated even further—Colin, wearing a golden visor, silently fired arrow after arrow, each strike accurately hitting exposed vulnerable spots. For example, the eye sockets, which were unprotected by armor, and the throat, where mobility dictated that armor was somewhat thinner… She swiftly dispatched enemy officers and heavily armored soldiers one after another, her accuracy undiminished even as they retreated and dodged.

While Kochkin and his men couldn't match their leader's skill, they were equally accurate, using their sturdy armor to withstand the enemy's arrows and then retaliating with even greater ferocity, suppressing the enemy archers and preventing them from raising their heads. They provided crucial cover and support for the enemy's assault team.

Finally, unable to withstand such heavy casualties any longer, the Holsian army that was still resisting collapsed like a tide. Everyone retreated in unison, leaving behind only corpses and wails. This important defensive point was completely lost to the Imperial army, and they retreated a long distance until they were stopped by reserve troops, which brought an end to their rout.

Taking advantage of this window of opportunity, the easily defensible tower node has been fortified with strong defensive works. While the elite troops were resting and recovering, a large number of floating ice floes transported barricades with steel spikes and various fortification materials, quickly building a formidable fortress and firmly placing the area in the hands of the Empire.

Panting heavily, Karila was also exhausted. She took a water bottle from one of her men and gulped down the water, while tearing a large piece of cloth from a nearby corpse to wipe her blood-stained face and armor. She wanted to clean herself as best she could; it was already dusk, and the blood-red sunset streamed in through the window, making it impossible to tell whether the stains on their bodies were blood or simply the color of the setting sun.

Her subordinate officers had already gone to count the number of soldiers and determine the casualties, and soon reported back to her:

"Sir, we lost two men and had five wounded this time. They were mostly shot by those crossbows. Those things are really hard to defend against here."

Karila gritted her teeth, gasped, and then scratched her head:

"I didn't expect there would be casualties even with three layers of armor. That thing is really powerful. I should have brought more shields over."

They were all wrapped up like iron cans, but the crossbows on the city walls were incredibly powerful, capable of shattering heavy armor and causing significant damage at close range. If it weren't for Colin and his archers constantly suppressing the enemy's crossbowmen, their casualties would probably have been much greater...

"If we use too many shields, we won't be able to advance this quickly, and there's nothing we can do about it."

Colin took off his helmet and fanned his face with his palm. His short hair was all messy, and the strands on his forehead were soaked with sweat, sticking tightly to his skin. His fingers, which had drawn the bow hundreds of times, were red and swollen even with the protection of leather gloves. The two quivers at his waist were empty; all the arrows had been shot out, and he was now waiting for resupply.

"In short, we both did a great job!"

Carila grinned, equally in high spirits:

"You're right, you're pretty good! If it weren't for you guys today, our casualties would probably have been much higher. I only have a little over 100 men under my command, we can't withstand that kind of attrition. Thanks!!"

"No need to write, this is also my task. If there were more room here, we should have sent more troops to ensure safety... Alright, let's..."

"Whoosh!..."

A sudden, storm-like cry of alarm came from outside the city, its uncontrollable fury as dense and turbulent as a torrential downpour, threatening to overturn the entire city. All the troops on the city walls couldn't help but turn their gaze toward it.

At the same time, the Holstein army, which was being suppressed, suddenly erupted in cheers. Led by their officers, the soldiers shouted in unison:

"Tesolius has been assassinated! Tesolius has been assassinated!!"

"Tesolius is dead! Tesolius is dead!!"

"The Consul of Tersolius has been assassinated! The Consul of Tersolius has been assassinated!!"

…………

Suddenly, the entire city was filled with Hols shouting this, and their previously retracted offensive suddenly became fierce again.

Carila and Colin exchanged a glance, their faces drained of color, and they almost lost their balance on the box, staggering forward and gesturing wildly with their hands and feet.

Colin clenched his teeth so hard that his gums began to ache, not even noticing his lip was bleeding. His face hardened, and a fierce glint appeared in his eyes.

"Hold them off! We can't let the walls fall again!!"

Karila gritted her teeth, reached up and put on her helmet, pulled out her axe, and slammed it down in her hand:

"Get up, you lazybones! Push them back in!!"

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

The light of dusk had begun to dim, the very moment when day and night met. Everything was becoming somewhat indistinct, and Thesolius was nodding in satisfaction.