Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

…………

Silence spread among them. The two looked at each other, then looked around in even greater confusion—it looked like just an underground space, and there wasn't a soul in sight, not even a shadow.

"Let's look for it first. We've come all this way, we can't just turn back now."

Baria nodded in agreement, then slung his shield back over his waist, holding a torch in one hand and a short axe in the other. He began to explore the surroundings, occasionally poking and prodding the walls with the sturdy axe to check for any hidden spaces behind them.

Caledo then explored the pebbles paving the seam between the hole and the ground—clearly, someone had deliberately laid them there to keep out the damp soil; in nature, stones wouldn't be so neatly and evenly distributed on the ground.

He found his torch in the way, so he took out a short knife from his waist and sharpened the bottom. He was about to find a good spot to stick the torch in so he could free his hands and search for more clues, but suddenly stopped.

After a few breaths, Caledo squinted, took two steps forward, and then reached out to touch a protruding clod of earth, his fingers tracing the recessed circular hole on it thoughtfully.

He raised the torch again, glanced at it, and then looked down towards the direction the cave entrance led, a smug smile on his face. He saw the ashes left by the burning torch on the ground, then focused his gaze on an inconspicuous corner…

267 Another one (1)

Gestures are often a good way to convey information when you can't make a sound. As long as your companions can see them, you can convey your thoughts in an instant without disturbing your frightened prey.

Caledo put his left hand behind his back, raised it slightly, and then curled it back three times so that his friend could see clearly by the torchlight behind him. He also silently tightened his grip on the axe in his hand and went around to the left.

Wearing chainmail makes it impossible to move silently. The fine chainmail rings rub against each other, making a soft, rattling sound, which is especially noticeable in such a closed and quiet environment.

But their target remained motionless, whether stunned or fast asleep, which made the two of them draw closer and closer.

As they got closer and took a closer look, they discovered that there was a makeshift shelter on the ground covered in mud, inlaid with pebbles, with a frame made of grass and wood and partitioned with tattered cloth. If it weren't for the cover, they wouldn't have noticed the flaws at all; at first glance, it would just look like a patch of yellow earth.

The two men exchanged a glance, then without further hesitation, bent down and grabbed the edge of the shed, lifting it up forcefully as if they were lifting a large wooden basin off the ground…

In the torchlight, a pile of tattered cotton wadding was tangled together with scraps of cloth, providing some insulation. There was a deep mark on it, but there was nothing breathing inside.

Calido frowned, squatted down, and reached into the pile of rotten cotton. After rummaging around for a bit, he muttered in frustration and annoyance:

"It's still warm in here, that little thief couldn't have been gone long! If only we had been a little quieter..."

"What should we do now?... The trail ends here. We've probably already gone somewhere along these tunnels and gaps. It'll be hard for us to catch him now."

Caledo scratched his head vigorously, and when he stood up, he actually looked a bit dejected.

"There's no other way, let's go back... This time we'll get more people and search this place thoroughly, inside and out, we'll surely catch him. We can't be away from the team for too long now, or we'll be punished."

"That's all we can do. Don't forget to put your torch back on; we'll have to replace it for you once we get up there."

………………

The sounds of footsteps, the scraping of chainmail, and voices gradually faded into the distance, even the distinctive crackling of the torches grew fainter. Then, as darkness enveloped the area once more, and after a long while, the pile of tattered cotton suddenly rose, a wooden plank was supported by a hand, and a small, thin figure crawled out of the pit below.

He didn't dare to delay for a moment. After carefully restoring his shack to its previous state, he quickly fled out into the darkness, clinging to the wall. He had clearly heard the two uninvited guests say that they would bring more people to search the place later, at which point he would truly have no way to escape. It was better to take this opportunity to slip away quickly.

He made up his mind to hide in that deep place. Normally, he would rather crawl into a cesspool than go there, but now he had no choice, in order to avoid falling into the hands of those terrible soldiers…

He ran forward two quick steps, his movements slightly flustered, and reached out to touch the corner of the wall, when suddenly he felt a breeze brush past him, and his fingers clearly touched the hard steel...

“I can hear your footsteps. Stand still if you don’t want your head chopped off by an axe next time.”

The young man's powerful, deep, and intimidating voice reached his ears, making him freeze like a frog startled by a venomous snake. Sparks flew up and the torch that had just been extinguished was rekindled, illuminating the space and the two young soldiers who had appeared beside him at some point. They were wearing red padded military uniforms, had removed their chainmail, and were only wearing headscarves and arm guards.

………………

Tying prisoners with ropes is a skill every soldier should learn. After all, no one can guarantee they won't need it someday, and Imperial soldiers use it even more frequently. After each war, there are always a large number of prisoners of war whose mobility needs to be restricted, so the leather ropes around each soldier's waist always come in handy.

In response to this, the Empire's scholars compiled and summarized a binding method that could effectively restrict the movement of strong individuals, and it was quickly promoted in the army and became part of the training.

But now, Baria found himself facing a problem—generally, prisoners of war captured on the battlefield were strong and healthy soldiers, at least men who could lift a spear. They had never considered how to bind such a skinny, half-grown boy. If they used the conventional method, they might break his bones directly, since he had no fat or muscle and could not provide any basic protection.

But this guy was extremely clever and cunning, so he didn't dare to relax too much. Otherwise, if the brat got away again, catching him would be as difficult as climbing to heaven.

In the end, all they could do was tie his hands and feet together, connect the two ropes in the middle, and have two people grab his hands and feet respectively, just like slaughtering pigs and sheep during a festival, and carry him away.

Because the kid was so pitifully thin, this action, which should normally consume a lot of energy, was surprisingly easy. The two of them carried him to the area near the middle of the sewer with almost no effort.

As they approached, for some unknown reason, the little brat, who had previously given up all resistance, suddenly began to struggle desperately like a carp thrown ashore, almost breaking his own arm.

At the same time, his face turned extremely panicked—although his dark face was covered with oil and grime, this simple yet intense emotion was still directly conveyed to their eyes, causing Kalido and Barea to exchange puzzled glances.

"Back off! Back off! You'll die! I'll die too! Quick! Run!"

The voice was sharp and piercing, filled with terrible fear and despair. This emotion genuinely affected the other two, causing Calido's hand holding his short sword to tremble slightly, and his chainmail to clang crisply with his movements.

"what are you saying?"

"We can't get here at this time! That thing has already woken up! We have to escape, quick!"

Baria silently released his grip, letting the screaming man fall to the wet, muddy ground. He picked up the shield hanging behind him, secured it to his left hand, and simultaneously put on his helmet.

"Hold your things tight, Kalido, I heard a sound, something is approaching..."

The quality of Calibor also became more serious:

"Let me light the fire for you."

As he spoke, he raised the torch high in his left hand and kicked his left foot backward, causing the struggling man on the ground to roll behind a rock.

Just as they finished these actions, a series of heavy, sticky footsteps came from their left. In the firelight was a wide gap about the height of a person, large enough for an adult man to pass through.

The first thing to emerge was a hand with sharp black bone blades, pale and oily skin, and shocking stitches on its skin. After prying it open for a moment, it pulled hard—

"what!"

Caledo let out a scream, his torch trembled, a few sparks flew, and his eyes revealed a hint of terror, as if he were no longer an elite soldier, but a country boy frightened by wild wolves...

Because the protruding head was so terrifying and bizarre—on the right were three strange black lumps like the hard shells of insects, on the left were three deeply sunken, swollen eyes with stitching marks, and below was a large mouth torn from the gills, filled with sharp white teeth. The three stitching marks were messy and crooked, distributed all over the head, making it look like a poorly made tailor had forcibly sewn three pieces of leather together.

The thing before me looked like a bizarre amalgamation that had crawled out of a nightmare, every part exuding the creator's utter malice, pieced together, torn and sewn together with the most repulsive elements...

Baria's breathing was also a little heavy, but he also realized that this was an opportunity—this thing had only emerged halfway, and this was the best time to attack!

Without the slightest hesitation, he swung his hand and threw the throwing axe that always hung at his waist. The feel he had accumulated through years of throwing practice made him know the moment he threw it that he would hit the target. So, without even looking, he simply raised his shield to block in front of him, gripped the short axe in his other hand, and charged forward without hesitation!

As a strange sound, like a throat being ripped open and a scream rang out, along with the sticky sound of an axe blade cutting into flesh, Baria confirmed that he had hit his target and quickened his pace.

"Dodge to the left!"

As if he had suddenly stepped on a stone and fallen, Baria almost instinctively rolled to the left without the slightest hesitation or pause, as if he had always intended to do so...

At the same time, a large clump of green slime was thrown from the air and landed where he had just stood. It immediately emitted a terrible sour smell, while continuously overflowing with foam and spreading bluish-black smoke.

poisonous!!

The two were immediately horrified, and only then did the strange thing retract its everted throat. A trickle of green liquid flowed from the corner of its mouth, which was covered with sharp teeth. An axe was deeply cut into its shoulder, and blood flowed down in a small stream.

Baria rolled over on the ground and stood up, carefully using his shield to cover himself, while the monster finally crawled out completely without any interference...

! !

The two then realized why this supposedly agile monster took so long to move out—because its lower body only had half a leg.

It looks like a sweet potato that has been cut off at the tail from behind. The monster's hind half consists of a limb about the thickness of an arm, with a smooth end. It can't exert any force on the wet ground. In most cases, it has to rely on its two front limbs to grab the surrounding protrusions and drag itself forward, which is why it is so slow.

Charging once more, Baria showed no fear. As the monster turned its head toward him again, its throat began to bulge, but it showed no sign of slowing down. It simply raised its shield forward, preparing for a ferocious charge.

My friend proved once again that he was worthy of my complete trust—a narrow-bladed throwing axe flew from the side, accurately slicing into the monster's joint, bringing with it splattered blood and a terrible howl. The venom that was brewing in the monster's mouth also sprayed out like saliva onto the ground.

boom!

The shield slammed heavily into the head, which was twice the size of a normal person's, producing a dull thud. The shield, made of hard oak and wrapped in raw cowhide, performed a remarkable feat, lifting the head high into the air.

The swung bone blade grazed his body, finally leaving a trail of sparks on his chainmail, which then scraped down his thigh and onto the ground. A slight pain made him frown, but his movements remained unchanged. His right hand wielded the short axe without hesitation, slicing into the monster's muscular neck. At the same time, he pulled back forcefully, tearing off a clump of debris through the hook-like part of the axe.

Suddenly struck by this heavy blow, the monster reacted even more fiercely. Its two long and dangerous forelimbs swept down on him like a series of afterimages, sparking as they struck the hard shield and armor, blocking his axe blows again!

The armor rings on his arms made a cracking sound as they broke under the strain, and a series of small iron rings flew to the ground. Blood quickly seeped from under his skin, soon soaking through the clothes on his shoulders. Even the shield was pressed down heavily, exposing his neck.

This was an absolutely fatal flaw and a harbinger of death, often signifying an imminent demise… But Baria only staggered for a moment before straightening up, taking two steps back to see, in the firelight, the sharp blade protruding from the monster's chest, and Kalido behind it holding a torch:

"If you move any slower, this thing will tear me in two."

"Shouldn't I look for an opportunity... to stab it a couple more times, otherwise this thing might not even be dead... I have a feeling, Baria, we might have made a significant contribution this time..."

"Maybe, but I know I'm exhausted right now. I need to find somewhere to go and get a good night's sleep."

The two men sat down on the ground, exhausted, still looking at the corpse with lingering fear.

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

A few days later, in the camp near the river, Thesolius tapped his fingers on the table with great interest, and in a moment he made his decision:

"Arka, you personally lead a group to bring back those two young men and what they found..."

268 Another one (2)

On the vast plains, billowing yellow dust was sweeping in from the west. The well-coordinated riders used whistling arrows and bluffing shouts to drive the panicked herbivores away, leading them to flee headlong with their leader toward a place where no terrible sounds could be heard. Little did they know that this was exactly where the hunters wanted them to go.

Hundreds of antelopes were driven wildly, nearly scared to death, by riders who had brought them from all directions to this pre-arranged hunting ground.

Just as they were about to disappear into the seemingly safe forest under the lead sheep, another group of elite riders roared out of the forest, and the encirclement from other directions was completed in one fell swoop, completely eliminating any possibility of the flock escaping.

What followed was the inevitable slaughter... This pre-arranged hunting ground instantly became a stage for riders to showcase their superb archery skills. Broad-bladed arrows, specifically designed for hunting medium-sized prey such as antelopes and sika deer, flew in a hail of bullets. The nimble antelopes, running along, would frequently stumble and roll on the ground, their fur filthy with blood and dust, often breaking off arrow shafts in the process.

Each fall of a plump antelope is met with cheers, while arrows that miss are mocked by others. Riders on the outer edges are tasked with driving away the scattered prey, forcing them to crash headfirst into the arrows.

Once the hunt had yielded enough prey, at the leader's command, the remaining prey, which had been deliberately left behind to ensure the survival of the tribe, were released from the south. Terrified and panicked, they fled into the surrounding forests in the blink of an eye.

This was a near-perfect hunt. Riders from all directions acted with perfect coordination, following the pre-arranged plan. They accurately gathered and drove their prey to this spot, then, at the opportune moment, reaped their harvest, releasing the remaining survivors to ensure that such a bountiful hunt would continue next year.

The skinning of the prey was proceeding in an orderly manner. The riders skillfully used their daggers to peel off the beautiful fur. The most skilled among them could even ensure that not a single muscle or fat stuck to the fur, leaving only a deep white patch.

Some experienced individuals employ a more unique and unusual method to skin the deer—they use a short knife to make an incision at the joint of the deer's leg, just deep enough to reach the boundary between the skin and the fur, then insert a wooden tube into the wound and blow air into it with their powerful lung capacity.

A large influx of air penetrates between the skin and fur, lifting the entire pelt off the body without any adhesion, peeling off the entire pelt with much smaller incisions.

This is a common technique on the eastern grasslands. Herdsmen don't always have access to pots, nor do they always have the opportunity to use them. Sometimes they use this technique to peel off a piece of sheepskin that won't leak water and use it as a makeshift cooking vessel to cook food.

Of course, the deer hides aren't removed here to cook the venison; that would be too wasteful. These ringed antelopes from southern Hols have exceptionally beautiful, golden-brown fur, especially in early winter when the underfur is thick, soft to the touch, and easily resistant to the cold. They are an important commodity throughout the Kingdom of Hols, and every noble considers this animal a valuable asset.

In order to protect these antelopes, they even specifically prohibited farmers from cultivating land near the forest, and further prohibited them from entering the forest to collect and hunt during the antelopes' breeding season; they were not even allowed to pick up dry firewood on the ground.

Even if their people froze and starved to death as a result, the nobles still considered it a worthwhile business. After all, even the most foolish person could see that the antelope pelts would bring them more money than the farmers in their territory, and would also attract more caravans to their land, thus making more gold coins fall into their pockets... Moreover, not many of those lowly people would die, so there was even less reason for them to delay making money.

Mutton and ram horns were also important supplies, and they were all collected. Even valuable offal was not spared. Before long, every rider's saddle was piled high with supplies, a very bountiful harvest.

The most valuable antelope hides were collected. Several chieftains gathered together, meticulously comparing and observing them to select the most complete and beautiful hide—the gift they would present to the leader.

Two long, sharp horns, like arrows, were also pulled out, wrapped in sheepskin, and presented to the great man standing in the north by the most respected chieftain with both hands.

Tersolius, who led the hunt, accepted it without hesitation—this was also the custom of the Curist people, whose leaders had the right to take the best prey after a perfect hunt as a reward for leading everyone to a good harvest.

Herdsmen rarely kill their own cattle and sheep for meat. Most of the time, they fill their stomachs with dairy products and wild vegetables. If they want to eat meat, they prefer to hunt animals on the grassland. Therefore, bows and arrows are not only weapons for them, but also important production tools and an important skill that they can easily starve to death if they don't learn them.

The one who can lead them to hunt a large number of prey, and who can guide them properly and correctly in the process, uniting everyone to cooperate, will naturally be regarded as their leader. The one who can unite countless tribes will naturally become their Khan. The army of this nation is often honed through experience accumulated in hunting time and time again.

They may not fully accept the officials sent by the Empire now, but every Kurist who has survived to this day will wholeheartedly acknowledge Tesolius—the one who defeated and conquered their entire people, and all tribes follow his lead… In other words, in the past, during the time of Toridu, the peoples of the Kurist steppe had never been so united.

It is unknown whether Torid Khan will feel jealous, but Tesolius is destined not to know for a long time... at least not until he hears the news gathered from the north, he will not know what state this man who was once his opponent is in now.

A howling wind came from the side, and Thesolius knew what was happening without turning around; a helpless expression appeared on his face.

"Stop playing with those two ram horns, those things aren't suitable as weapons."

Carila paused, scratching her head somewhat sheepishly.

"I was just thinking about those big fish with horns on their heads from my hometown...we used to catch them sometimes."

"Homesick?" Thesolius spurred his horse. His personal guards and light cavalry immediately followed. A large group of people surged forward rapidly into the distance.

"I've been hearing you mention your hometown a lot lately, and I can tell you miss it a lot."

With a slight push of her legs, Karila got her magnificent warhorse moving, keeping pace with Tersolius, though she lagged behind by half a horse's length.

"Maybe a little... When I left my hometown, I thought it was cold and boring there, and I often didn't have enough to eat. It was quite uninteresting to stay there... But now I often think about it."

"My old man always likes to show off. Even though he's quite old, he insists on leading everyone to hunt those big white bears. He's not afraid of getting slapped to death. He's all old bones, but he really thinks he's a strong young man."

“My mom is the tallest person in the whole village. My dad always gets beaten up by her. I heard that when she was young, she could pin a half-grown horse to the ground with her bare hands. That eccentric old man in the village always says that she has blessed blood, and that our whole family will have good luck because of it…”

Thesolius listened silently as the girl beside him began to ramble on and on, much like a veteran with countless battles recounting his past experiences to his descendants in the winter of his later years. It was more like an emotional outpouring; he didn't expect any response, he just hoped someone would listen.

"If there's a chance, I'll grant you leave so you can go home. If your family is willing, you can bring them to live in the Empire. With your current achievements and status, it's only natural that you want to do these things. And living here will definitely be more comfortable than in the bitterly cold north."

Their destination was now in sight. All they had to do was cross the plain, climb the hill, and advance a short distance to enter the massive military camp beside the river. Inside the camp, banners fluttered, horns blared, and patrols were exchanging commands at the gate, handing over to the next group.

It was already evening, and they marched swiftly forward under the fiery sunset. The sweat on their warhorses steamed in the early winter air, and their saddles swayed precariously as they carried their heavy loads.

“I said something similar to Colin before, but luckily I ran into the rest of their people in Cerisonas, so I didn’t have to keep my word. If you have this idea, I can arrange it once the war is over.”