Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

Of course, the safest way is to just turn around and run, then call over a dozen men with crossbows and fire a volley of arrows at the bushes. Whatever it is, it should die in there.

But he felt there was no need to act so cowardly before ascertaining the situation, after all, they made their living with swords... and couldn't ruin their own reputation—no one would want to hire a mercenary who was always thinking about retreating and running away.

Just as he was concentrating on drawing his longsword and waiting, the commotion in the bushes had completely subsided. In the darkness, only the chirping of insects came from the grass, and even unusual breathing sounds were hard to detect.

A gust of cold wind blew, making the bushes and his shoulders shiver... Early spring was still quite cold, especially in this godforsaken place called the Kingdom of Salalod... The land here was scarce and extremely fragmented, mostly nestled in the gaps between mountains and hills. Grain yields were pitifully low, and large quantities had to be imported from the Empire and other kingdoms every year. The climate was damp and cold, with frequent rain and fog. The only distinctive products were the fine hardwoods and furs produced in the vast forests.

This sounds like a poor place where a poor king lives—but the truth is quite the opposite. The Kingdom of Salanod has the largest and most powerful military force among the 13 western countries, with tens of thousands of soldiers at its disposal. It firmly controls the Khosat Fortress, which faces the empire directly, and has a great deal of influence among the western countries.

Whenever the empire considered westward expansion, this country would always be at the forefront. Other kingdoms and duchies would also provide full support to prevent the loss of their defenses, resulting in a strong military tradition and martial spirit here. In addition, during the long period of peace outside of war, this country would become the one with the most frequent and direct exchanges with the empire.

Because of its control over the passage between the empire and the western countries, the king of Salalod could make a fortune each year just by collecting tolls from passing merchants. He didn't even care much about the meager earnings from the farmers working on their own land, and the taxes he collected were the lowest among all the western countries.

Overall, this country is quite formidable in combat and also quite wealthy. Even he hadn't expected that the Kingdom of Salanod would hire him and his mercenaries—normally, their own army would be enough to handle most troubles, and few neighboring countries would dare to provoke them.

What could possibly be the reason that the King of Salalod, that infamous red-haired butcher, is willing to spend so much gold to recruit so many mercenaries?

Another gust of cold wind blew by, and Diyul was surprised to find that he had actually been daydreaming! He quickly gripped his sword tightly and forced himself to concentrate.

Damn it, I've been thinking about all sorts of random things these past few days, it's making me a bit neurotic. Even at a time when something's clearly wrong, I'm still getting distracted thinking about those things…

Forcibly suppressing his doubts and worries, Diyul reached out and knocked on the door beside him. Soon, two mercenaries in chainmail silently crept in, one carrying a halberd and the other a loaded crossbow, flanking him from both sides as he looked.

The three of them approached the bushes in perfect coordination, inwardly grumbling about the laziness and carelessness of some of the others—why leave such an obvious pile of things in the house when they should have been cleared away?!

Swords and halberds probed into the bushes, then slowly moved them aside. The torches in their hands illuminated the darkness, revealing whatever was hidden beneath the branches and leaves.

But nothing.

The three of them searched the place carefully, but apart from the bushes and the messy weeds and pebbles below, there was nothing to hide in or anything suspicious.

"It's probably a rat; there are rats everywhere here."

"It's better to be careful. I have a feeling that something's not right about this trip..."

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

He took a sip of the scalding liquor, exhaled a breath of hot air, and casually hung his pouch on the table beside him. He then huddled under his blanket, preparing to endure the chilly and damp night.

The campfire burning in the middle of the courtyard was the main source of heat; otherwise, one certainly wouldn't be able to get a good night's sleep on just a wool blanket. The campfire also provided the main lighting, dimly illuminating most of the courtyard, with only the corners still shrouded in darkness.

The remaining ruins after the house burned down could barely keep out the cold wind. With the warmth of the burning wine and the comfort of the blanket, he drowsily closed his eyes...

Whoosh! Thump! ...

A sharp dagger flashed through the air, leaving a bright, short line, before embedding itself firmly in a pillar. A dark hand flew past, and the chilling aura emanating from the sharp blade, like the bite of a venomous snake, caused the hand to quickly retract, accompanied by a short scream.

"Don't move. I can tell you're a person. If you move again, my sword will be flying at you next... Trust me, it's not a pleasant experience to be stabbed by it."

Diyul, who had just been huddled in the jar, now stood up, looking radiant. He held a sharp longsword in his hand, half of his thick beard was soaked with wine, and half of a blanket was hanging from his feet, slowly slipping off his knees.

"Alright, walk over slowly. You should know you can't run away... Dist. Hold on tight."

"Understood. If this bastard dares to move, I'll shoot him through the head."

A response came from the previously quiet courtyard wall, and the distinctive luster of an iron helmet emerged from the darkness, the tip of a crossbow bolt carrying a dangerous yet steady cold light.

"I knew I was right, your target from the start was my bag... Okay, turn your face around, don't force us to do it, it won't look good, I don't want to wash the blood off the blanket."

The blade slapped against the shoulder of the small, thin figure. Diyul remained focused until the other turned around...

The man's previously firm wrist suddenly relaxed, and surprise completely filled his face, causing him to involuntarily put the sword to the ground.

This was a thin, small child, his face smeared with a dirty mixture of mud and dust, his hair sparse and messy, his body wrapped in sticky, tattered burlap sacks, and his fingernails black and broken. He looked like a dog that had fallen into the mud and crawled out again.

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

The three pieces of bread were devoured in the blink of an eye, along with a large bowl of hot soup. The three men watched with twitching lips, unable to imagine how such a tiny thing could eat so much. It was as if its throat was three times the size of a normal person's, so it didn't need to swallow at all, it just had to stuff the food down.

"If you ask me, I'd just throw this brat out. There's no need to share our food with him. We still have a long way to go, boss. Don't be so kind."

One of the mercenaries looked at the boy who kept eating with some annoyance, especially since the boy had already reached for the fourth piece of bread.

“It’s alright, let him eat. These things aren’t free… Black kid, I have some questions for you.”

The small, thin child didn't speak, but just nodded, his throat still struggling to swallow.

"You've been here for a long time, haven't you?"

The boy nodded repeatedly.

Were there people like us camped here before? Were there many of them?

The boy nodded again, then swallowed the bread in his mouth with a thud.

"There are quite a lot, in various colors, more than a dozen."

“That’s good, now I need you to tell me…” Dijour moved slightly closer:

"Tell me everything they said when they set up camp here. Don't worry, I won't let you tell me for nothing."

The old mercenary squinted, a strange light flickering within his eyes...

347 Breakthrough and Retreat (2)

The child was filthy, his cheeks bulging. The dry bread, mixed with saliva, was kneaded in his mouth to extract a sticky, nutritious filling. After a rough chewing process, it was swallowed whole, not daring to waste a single bit or hesitate for even the slightest moment, for fear that the bread would no longer be his in the next instant.

Looking at his emaciated appearance, it's hard to imagine how this kid managed to eat those three large loaves of bread! Those loaves of bread were enough to stuff a cow's throat, but he stuffed them into his stomach in the blink of an eye.

Even when faced with questions from three fully armed mercenaries, he didn't bother to answer. He just kept stuffing bread down his throat, and when he couldn't choke anymore, he would take a sip of soup.

Even when Diyul almost thought this kid was going to choke him to death, his throat moved a few times and he actually managed to catch his breath. At the same time, his eyes rolled upwards, and after a moment of preparation, he spoke:

"I can't remember them very well. They said all sorts of things... but most of the time they talked about going to war, or about robbing money and women... Sometimes they would drink and fight, and they would look for meat to eat. There used to be two or three stray dogs around here, and they skinned them and made them into jerky."

Diyul frowned. What this kid was saying was almost all nonsense. Mercenaries... to be precise, most soldiers were like that, he knew it all too well.

“Say something useful, kid. Say something useful, like what those guys with the best armor, the best food, and the best houses are saying. You’ve been scurrying around here like a mouse all day, you must have heard a lot.”

He said this with some impatience, but forced himself to continue listening.

The dark-skinned, thin boy thought carefully for a moment, but still didn't stop chewing. After swallowing hard, he said haltingly:

“I remember now… just a few days ago, in the house next door… there were two people in armor, wearing green clothes over their armor, living inside. Their clothes were embroidered with gold trim, and they looked very expensive.”

"I also felt that they must have something good, so I slipped in through a hole at the back of the house..."

"So what did you hear?"

The old mercenary asked eagerly, his eyes gleaming with a unique light—an urgency to verify his conjecture and put his mind at ease.

The other two captains also realized something. After exchanging a glance, they stood up, turned around, closed the door, and then focused their attention on the boy's face, waiting for his answer.

"While I was secretly rummaging through their packages, I vaguely heard the taller guy tell his companion... that they were going to fight something... Tuosa... Les?..."

The boy uttered those syllables uncertainly, but received no response. He looked up and found the chainmail-clad mercenaries staring blankly into space. He didn't pay them any more attention and continued eating the rest of his bread.

"...It's Tosaris."

Dijour was struck dumb. He felt as if he had been drenched in water and was standing on a tower in the coldest season, the icy touch spreading from his fingertips throughout his body.

"The city of Tosalis in the Empire..."

The captain next to him also muttered to himself with an idiotic expression. The three of them were stunned for dozens of breaths before they finally came to their senses. After looking at each other, they realized that the other's face was as pale as a dead person.

"Damn it! I knew this trip wouldn't end well! Those noble lords definitely want us to fill in the empire's walls! Who knows what crazy thing they've gone mad with this time? We'll smear our own internal organs and blood all over that place."

Even Diyur gritted his teeth and cursed loudly, spitting at the corner of the wall, his hand gripping the mace at his waist.

"That city is less of a city and more of a fortress... The towers there are almost reaching the sky... Who knows how many people will have to die to take it down? They're just using us as cannon fodder!"

"We absolutely cannot do this! Only an idiot would take on a job that's sending us to our deaths. We need to think of a way out now."

…………

The three of them chattered incoherently for a while, each talking to themselves without offering any response or requesting of a reply. They looked like three mentally unstable lunatics causing a ruckus in the middle of the night.

But at the same time, these three veterans, who could be considered seasoned veterans, also clearly realized one thing—their current loss of composure was an instinctive cover-up, an instinctive way to conceal their fear...

After all, they're just doing their jobs for money, their ultimate goal is to make money and live a life of luxury. Who the hell would be crazy enough to attack a fortress?! Especially a fortress owned by the empire, a powerful and prestigious nation... They'd be like dust there, unable to make a ripple before being wiped out.

Diyur subconsciously put his fingers into his mouth and started biting his nails—this was an unconscious action he took when he was nervous. As a result, the nails on all ten of his fingers were always broken and sometimes he would bite them until they cracked, and his mouth would be full of blood.

It's too late now. They've already entered the Kingdom of Salanod, and that infamous red-haired butcher won't be so lenient as to allow mercenaries to take his money and run away... If they dare to do that, they'll definitely suffer a terrible fate.

If they were still adrift at sea, he would do everything in his power to escape, even if it meant hijacking a ship with his men. After all, in the vast ocean, losing a ship is sometimes quite normal... But now, he has to think of another way.

"Commander, Commander..."

Just as he was pondering, one of his captains suddenly squinted at him, pointed to a dark figure by the campfire behind them, and made a throat-slitting gesture:

"Should we...?"

"There's no need. This kid won't get in our way. There's no need to be so ruthless. Besides, he's quite useful, isn't he? This kid moves as quietly as a mouse. I almost didn't notice him. Give him a bite to eat, and he'll be of great use."

Diyul shook his head, thoughtfully stroked his chin, rejected the other person's suggestion, and then turned around to say something...

Then he was surprised to find that—in the short time it took to turn around, the kid was already lying on the ground, struggling and convulsing violently, his face turned ashen, twitching and writhing like a fish, and desperately pounding his chest with his hands.

"Damn it! This kid choked on his own, pick him up!"

With just one glance, he made an accurate judgment. Without hesitation, he had the other two grab the kid's legs and lift him upside down. Then, he clenched his fists and aimed at the kid's chest and abdomen, striking him with moderate force.

One gulp, no response; two gulps, no response... It wasn't until the fifth gulp that the boy, who was almost suffocating, finally opened his throat and vomited out a large clump of sticky noodles—as big as a cat's head.

It's unimaginable how much bread he just greedily ate in one bite to squeeze such a large lump out of his throat... If the others had noticed a little later, this kid might have choked to death while he was eating his fill.

"...You're so greedy, like a starving ghost reincarnated...How about you come work for me from now on? I'll make sure you're well-fed every day."

The boy, who had just caught his breath, raised his head, sniffed, and then nodded without hesitation.

Does it have a name?

He shook his head without hesitation once again.

“Then I’ll give you a name… From now on, you’ll be called Black Rat. Be as clever as a rat, and as greedy as a rat. You’ll definitely be of use to us.”

The boy blinked in confusion, then reached out to grab the clump of batter he had just spat out, only to be kicked hard in the butt by the exasperated Diyul.

"I'm not saying you should actually be like a rat!"

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

Ding! !

An arrow bounced off the hard brass scales, leaving only a tiny dent at the tip, greatly mitigating the impact. It thus failed to achieve its goal and quickly fell into the blood-stained mud.

But its owner was far from unharmed—another treacherous arrow pierced the junction of his arm and armpit, tearing through the thin armor ring and embedding itself deep into the cotton and flesh.

Severely wounded, the soldier immediately screamed and fell to the ground. In a reckless roll, the arrow shaft touched the ground and pierced two inches deeper, bringing out more blood and screams.

Their lines are being destroyed, their lines are being trampled, their lines are being harassed by wolves and torn apart by lions... Thousands have already fallen, and countless others have fled. Everyone is struggling and desperately trying to hold on.

"Lord of Light, protect me..."

After his helmet was struck by a third arrow, and he watched helplessly as five or six more of his comrades fell to the ground, this officer from a southern tribe of Assele uttered such a lament and prayer.

Not far from them, the large swarm of dark figures roaming like a pack of wolves and the rolling, cold glint of steel foreshadowed an impending, terrifying attack…

348 Breakthrough and Retreat (3)

People are often reluctant to go out when it rains, which often means dampness and hypothermia... Neither of these is a pleasant experience, and it makes the body more susceptible to weakness and illness, especially when fuel is scarce. It is not uncommon for people to die from a cold rain.

Prusedo had never seen rain before—he was a warrior from a nomadic tribe in the southern desert of Assele, where water was precious and scarce, and could only be squandered in the rich northern oases. He could never imagine the good thing of water falling from the sky.

But now, he almost thought he had witnessed the rain he had heard from others in snippets of conversation... except that this rain was both deadly and unbearable.

Deadly iron feathers, made of steel shafts, wood, and feathers, were whistling through the air, each one so faint that it would be barely noticeable before the terrible thing pierced the chest... But now, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of arrows were flying through the sky, and the sound was amplified into a dangerous and dense chorus like the wings of wasps.

They were struggling to hold on amidst this terrible rain of iron, with one after another falling from the arrows. The fine steel arrowheads fired from the powerful bows were enough to tear through and pierce through chainmail, making a dense and sharp piercing sound as they struck shields, killing or wounding people every now and then. Screams, howls, and curses filled the entire formation.

They had lost the tribal cavalry covering their flanks, and those weak-willed cowards had scattered and fled, completely exposing their flanks and rear to the Imperial light cavalry... That's why they were in such a terrible situation.

The Imperial heavy infantry's frontal assault was becoming increasingly difficult to withstand, with one square after another being rapidly torn apart. Meanwhile, the arrows overhead never ceased, and catapult-launched slingshots and crossbow bolts continued to wreak havoc within their ranks, tearing apart shredded armor and blood.

Any general with common sense could have realized the desperate truth—they were about to lose the war, they were about to suffer a complete rout, and be trampled by the Empire, like watching helplessly as rocks and soil poured down from a mountain, with no way to resist.

The Imperials, however, continued their orderly offensive. They rotated, moved, charged, and retreated... everything was well-organized, and their morale was rising higher and higher, just like warriors who saw their opponents weaken and retreat.

The cavalrymen in red cloaks were recklessly raining arrows down on them, causing their once solid and orderly formation to waver time and again. They were making full use of their superior mobility and never engaged in prolonged battles, only harassing and guerrilla tactics, as if their arrows were free and grew out of the ground.

The losses are now beyond description... To be precise, the army has not collapsed yet only because it has not reached that point, the point where the soldiers' spirits are destroyed by the bloodshed, cruelty, and despair.

Once that time and that opportunity arrive, the collapse will be unstoppable, everything will crumble, and they will be reduced to cattle and sheep to be slaughtered at will.