Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

"Sir, are you alright?"

A strangely calm voice suddenly came from beside him, accompanied by the sound of boots stained with blood and mud pounding on the grass. Karila's tall figure appeared beside him, her golden hair soaked in blood, turning it into a glaring color.

"It won't hurt you. My charge was the last strike, a well-rested elite force breaking through their exhausted ranks. There wasn't much danger. But you, from the very beginning, were pushing forward head-on..."

As he spoke, he turned around, his gaze calmly sweeping over the broken, twisted armor plates and the bloodstains covering his body:

"Is my champion already exhausted? Perhaps you should go and have your wound treated by Tarina first."

"I am quite tired... but the injuries are just minor. If I couldn't even endure this, I would have starved to death on the icy plains long ago..."

She was perhaps truly exhausted; this once vibrant and energetic female assassin spoke with a listless, weak voice. Her eyelids blinked frequently, as if they might close at any moment.

"I've been chopping all day and I've broken my axe. You'll have to get me a new one."

"Just go find the master craftsmen; they can forge the finest steel."

"That's no fun, I want yours!"

"?!..."

Thesolius raised his eyebrows, while the girl opposite him grinned in the fiery sunset.

"Where's your axe from when we used to spar? I've been thinking about it for ages, the one with the gold inlay and patterns on it?"

The corners of Tersolius's mouth, as hard as steel, suddenly softened, and he reached out to pat the congealed blood scabs on his gauntlets:

"It's hanging in my tent. I'll give it to you when we get back."

"By the way, I'm too tired to walk anymore. Could you give me a ride? My horse is still tied up in the rear camp."

Without hesitation, Karila began to push her luck, pointing excitedly to Moss, who was still grazing on the hillside behind them, causing the surrounding generals to exchange strange glances.

The commander of the legion's mount was not something that anyone else could touch. Even the groom responsible for feeding it could not ride this renowned and magnificent warhorse. This horse was meant to carry only one person.

Such a demand is far too much, even for an Imperial Champion who has just made a great contribution. If one were not very familiar with Karila, it would be easy to suspect that she might have treasonous intentions...

Tersolius stared blankly at his champion for a moment, then finally couldn't hold back his laughter at the opponent's silly grin and burst out laughing:

"Alright, I'll give you a ride then. I don't think Moss will have any objections."

After he finished speaking, he gently waved to the hillside, and the huge, magnificent warhorse immediately let out a joyful neigh and galloped towards him, bringing with it a hot wind mixed with the smell of blood.

He reached out and grabbed the saddle, put his right foot in the stirrup, then flipped himself onto the horse, turned around, and extended his right hand.

"There's no extra room. Hold on tight and don't fall."

Another hand, covered in iron armor, grasped his palm, and with a forceful leap, the other man jumped onto the horse's back like a lark.

"Ha! I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Order the light cavalry to continue the pursuit, and the rest of the troops to continue cleaning up the battlefield and setting up camp as previously arranged, and to clear away the corpses as soon as possible. The weather is hot now, and we must not cause a plague."

Finally, turning to his generals, Tersolius gave them a final instruction, then spurred his horse onward through the last twilight before nightfall, leading his personal guards and a young woman with excited cheers.

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

"How many days is it now?"

Alka touched his hairy chin, frowned, and began to think carefully... and started to wonder if his mind had become unclear because of that blow?

"What, you can't take it anymore after only four days? There's still plenty of time. Instead of complaining, you should go back and rest."

Marcus, his face equally weathered, was busily turning the pages of parchment in his hands. Every now and then, he would scribble or draw on it with a charcoal pencil. The tiny flame of the oil lamp in front of him flickered and danced, barely illuminating the narrow, damp house.

The floor and walls were paved with narrow, foot-length stone bricks, but they were clearly in disrepair, with moss and weeds growing in the cracks, and brazen rats scurrying about in the darkness from time to time. Finally, Alka impatiently stomped on one, smearing blood and entrails all over the leg of the nearby table.

"How could that be?!... I've just been feeling a bit confused these past few days, and I keep forgetting things... When I get back, I definitely have to go see Dr. Tarina."

"No need to go, I can find the reason for you."

Marcus didn't even look up, while Alka stared in astonishment.

"Really? When did you acquire this skill? You've been keeping it well hidden!"

“I don’t have that ability, but you idiot haven’t slept for two days. Even a fool can guess why. If this continues, you’ll exhaust yourself… You insist on doing everything yourself, and you can’t even leave the city walls unattended. If this continues, I’ll have to consider whether I should lock you up.”

"It's all because those guys are so unreliable; they actually made a mistake in that place..."

“Even if you don’t get involved, the troops will soon block that place. What good did you do besides killing a few dozen more people? You even got a hammer blow to the head.”

Alka opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing, only sighed and sat down in the chair next to him.

"According to the plan, it should be almost done... but why haven't we received any news yet..."

"It's almost done. I estimate we'll get the news tomorrow or the day after."

How did you know that?

With a questioning look from Alka, Marcus reached out and stroked his dark red beard, his eyes gleaming as he gazed into the distance:

"I smelled blood, an overwhelming, pungent smell of blood, from the north..."

352 Closing (2)

"It's just that it was really unexpected... The Shah of the Asel actually came with a large army. If we hadn't been prepared, we might have been surrounded by them long ago."

"We can't surround them. Their warships can't even get close to here. As long as we still control the sea lanes, there's nothing to be afraid of."

At dawn, Alka wiped away the dry secretions around his eyes, which had just returned from a deep sleep, and after yawning, looked at the vast, sprawling military camp in the distance with a tone of surprise and excitement:

"Their Shah is indeed a formidable figure. He immediately dispatched a large army to provide assistance. Even if he cannot break the blockade, he can still stop us from continuing our advance and at least protect their eastern plains... But their tens of thousands of troops are destined to be wiped out."

The two men gently adjusted the brass tubes in their hands, observing the conspicuous, tall flag in the distance through the image refracted by the crystal inside. The flag, entirely golden, was divided into three layers, each adorned with tassels and ornate long tails. In the very center of the flag was a three-headed lion roaring with its head raised, its tail intertwined with the body of a cobra.

This was the flag that only the Shahs of the Assal were entitled to use. In order to keep this extravagant flag stable at all times, the guards around it had to use ropes to hold it in place.

"After all, the meat is already in our bowls, and no matter how much he makes a fuss, he can't stop us from eating it all... I just don't know how the battle is going."

"Anyway, if there is a result, it will definitely be sent here as soon as possible, so you don't need to worry about it. Let's think about how to deal with the next offensive of the Asel people. I estimate that we may have to hold out for another three or four days. The Asel people have already brought in their siege weapons, so it will be even more difficult to endure from now on."

The two chatted idly, talking about whatever came to mind, but before they knew it, they had almost finished discussing what needed to be done. Their conversation revealed an unspoken understanding, and they quickly settled their plans and went about their respective tasks.

Marcus turned around, took one last look, and then rubbed his eyes with a hint of helplessness.

It can only be said that plans rarely keep up with changes in most cases, and who could have imagined that the Shah of the Asel would have such courage, mobilizing his army to march north the moment he received the news? ... This king knew very well that he absolutely could not lose the Eastern Plains, the most important grain-producing area of ​​the entire country, nor could he allow it to fall into the hands of the empire.

Mobilizing troops is never a matter of mere words or a piece of paper; it involves countless resources and sums of money, exchanges of interests, and intrigue… It's hard to imagine what price this Shah paid to assemble such an army in such a short time.

Well, they were already well-fed, and the Hols' land hadn't been fully digested yet, so they shouldn't be greedy... In the end, this fertile eastern plain before them remained undetected.

…………

The heavy loads on the wagons put enormous pressure on the wooden axles, and coupled with the cracks and hidden damage that had accumulated over time, this finally led to the troublesome scene before us—a grain wagon with a broken rear wheel was completely stuck in a damp mud pit.

This was a very unlucky and inauspicious thing... Repairing such a heavy wagon would take a lot of effort, not to mention that the grain it was carrying could not be exposed to such a damp and muddy environment for long, unless they were prepared to eat moldy food for the rest of the time.

To make matters worse, the heavy wagons pulled by two horses had completely blocked the already deteriorating road, slowing down the entire marching column. The soldiers, exposed to the cold rain, were filled with resentment and groaned in pain.

"Oh, you're really unlucky to have run into this mess. Do you need us to lend a hand?"

Just then, a middle-aged man with a thick beard appeared on a gray horse, followed by a group of muscular and burly mercenaries.

"It would be great if you could lend a hand. Thanks, brother. I'll give you some when we're setting up camp and cooking."

The mercenary squad leader, who was already sweating profusely and trying to repair the carriage, was overjoyed and accepted the help without hesitation. He called on the strong men to push the rear wheels of the carriage together and whip the two packhorses.

With the addition of this new force, the heavy carriage finally broke free from its previous constraints. The wheels gradually lifted off the muddy ruts, and with another burst of effort, it was finally dragged onto the road with a bang.

"Ha, we're finally out. The roads here in Salanod are in pretty good condition, but there's nothing we can do in this awful weather. There are always potholes here and there. We've had to replace our wheels three times this week."

As he spoke, he lowered his head to examine the slightly deformed wheel and the deeply twisted iron bar embedded in it, then frowned and kicked it hard.

"Alright, now it's the fourth time we've had to change it. This is really unlucky. I wonder if we can find any repair parts at our destination. If not, we'll have to take the wheels off from other parts and replace them. Hopefully, this piece of junk can still carry us to our destination."

This was clearly a wagon used to transport supplies, with sacks and wooden crates filled with apples and dried vegetables, covered with an oiled cloth to protect them from rain and fog.

"Thanks to you, Diyul. Don't forget to send someone over tonight. We have some good stuff left over that we can share with you."

After speaking, the mercenary captain prepared to board the carriage and continue on his way, at which point Diyul spoke up:

"I see we still have some time, how about we go together? It's been a long time since we've seen each other, we can catch up."

"Of course, no problem. Would you like some?"

The other person didn't even turn their head, but simply took the water bottle from their waist and threw it over. Diyul uncorked it and smelled a slightly pungent yet richly sweet aroma of wine emanating from it.

"The mead that Dilidos just brewed this year should taste even better if it's left to age for a while, but I'm busy going out to fight, so I can't worry about that now. If you like it, you can have this jug."

He took a sip, then squinted slightly, savoring the slightly burning sweetness in his throat, before unceremoniously taking the wine jug from his mouth.

"It's really good stuff. If I had known that Dilidos' mead was this good, I probably would have spent a third of my money on it."

The mercenary captain opposite didn't speak for a moment, but just smiled and lashed the reins on the horses' rumps, urging the two strong draft horses to pull the cart, finally getting the caravan moving forward.

The mercenaries' marching formation was not very orderly, but they had vaguely formed a formation that allowed them to support each other, thanks to their experience. Only the greenhorns who only received 20 copper gus a week were visibly inexperienced and would unconsciously scatter as they marched, requiring the older men beside them to scold and urge them on.

"You might not believe it, but we just got a great deal—a dim-witted red deer popped out of the woods and was shot dead by our archers with an arrow. We'll have fresh venison soup tonight."

"Poaching the nobleman's deer is illegal."

"Tch, who cares about that? So what if they ate it? I don't believe they'll cause us any trouble over this. It's one thing for those big shots to hang a few country bumpkins, but it's another matter if they dare to mess with us. I won't be polite to them then!"

“That’s right, that’s right. We’re here to help them fight, so what’s wrong with getting some meat for ourselves? Didn’t they tell us to procure our own supplies? This is it.”

The coachman, sitting on the other side of the carriage, laughed heartily in agreement, while beneath their carriage, deer blood dripped into the damp mud. Dijour also chuckled.

"Haha, that makes sense. After all, there's not much food to be found in the village, and we can't go to war on an empty stomach... Speaking of which, do you know where we're actually going to fight?"

"...This is indeed a bit strange. We still don't know where we're going to fight. They just keep telling us to move in the agreed direction and that we'll find out when the time comes. But I expect there will be a lot of commotion. Just look at the scale of the mercenaries this time. I estimate that most of the taverns in the city are empty now. They've basically all come here. I've even seen several old acquaintances."

Diyu silently slowed his horse, subtly gesturing behind him before turning his head slightly towards the carriage and speaking in a rather subtle tone:

"I happen to know something... I can be pretty sure that neither the duchy nor the kingdom has made any moves."

The other party frowned and said with some doubt:

"That's really strange. If the two old rivals of the Kingdom of Salanod don't make any moves, what's the point of hiring so many people? They must be spending so much gold every day. It can't be that they have too much money to spend."

"That red-haired butcher wouldn't do a losing deal. He wants every gold coin to be worthwhile. How could he let a bunch of mercenaries take advantage of him?"

………………

The mercenary captain suddenly and silently tugged at the reins. The increased force caused the horse pulling the cart to let out a heavy snort, and his expression stiffened as he looked at Diyul, who was riding a gray horse beside him, with a questioning look.

Diyur said nothing, but the other person nodded as if they understood something, their expression darkening further…

353 Closing (3)

"You hugged me too tightly."

Somewhat helplessly, Tersolius tugged at the arm that was tightly wrapped around his waist, urging the girl behind him to dismount. They had now returned to the army's camp at the rear of the battlefield, where exhausted soldiers with blood-stained armor were everywhere, and they hurriedly saluted when they saw his banner arrive.

A dense formation of armored and armed guards stormed into the camp and lined up around him in the blink of an eye. The girl who was clinging tightly to his waist behind him remained motionless, her hands locked together as if they were made of cast steel.

"..."

Tersolius looked on with some helplessness at the awkward situation where neither of them could dismount. He didn't know why the girl was doing this, so he could only try to pry her fingers open, letting her long, slender fingers, with blood seeping into her nails, loosen from the steel armor belt around his waist.

The other person was still holding him tightly. It wasn't that he couldn't pry them open directly; those ten fingers weren't gripping as tightly as if they were holding a weapon. But a certain doubt made him give up the idea.

Even the guards noticed something amiss. Two of them dismounted and came forward. After a brief look, one of them looked up at him:

"My lord, your champion is already asleep."

This wasn't a particularly unexpected answer, so he quickly accepted it. After gently and slowly prying apart the tightly clasped fingers, Thesolius first dismounted, and then reached out to catch the other man as he lost his balance and fell off the horse.

Karila was wearing three layers of heavy armor. The weight of the steel made him incredibly strong, and even he couldn't remain unmoved by the impact. His boots sank heavily into the mud, snapping the grass roots inside.

Even with such an impact, Karila showed no sign of waking up. Her blood-stained face now displayed an extremely rare tranquility. Her golden hair was disheveled and matted, damp with sweat. She simply curled up instinctively to maintain her balance.

This girl exhausted herself.

In the torchlight, Teresolus smiled softly—she had been wearing three layers of heavy armor, fighting and charging through the enemy's ranks for an entire day, even breaking her axe in the process. She had already exhausted her last bit of strength, and the last thing she could do was probably hug herself on horseback. Now, unsurprisingly, she had fallen into a deep sleep.

"Have all units take a rest, but don't forget to patrol and keep watch... At least for today we can relax a bit. Let the auxiliary soldiers handle the corpses and clean up the battlefield. Everyone can have one last snack..."

Nearby, someone had already started lighting braziers, and the area illuminated by the roaring flames was gradually increasing, stretching into a sea of ​​fire under the dark night, illuminating the countless flags and blood-stained armor.

The guard obeyed and left, while Thesolius adjusted his arm and turned to look in the other direction:

"Has her tent been set up yet?"

"There are no adults yet. The servants are working through the night, but it will take some time. Most people don't have a place to stay yet..."