Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

"I heard that old witch steals children from the village to eat, secretly gnaws the bones clean, and hangs them on the eaves of her house!"

"Not only that, Count Salido sealed off the swamp, forbidding anyone from entering, and even abandoned a road that passed through it... The lord there didn't even dare to capture that old witch and burn her alive. I heard that anyone who dared to harm her died a terrible death! When the bodies were found, their noses and mouths were filled with mud, and it would even ooze out of their eyes, pushing their eyeballs out."

"How do you know so much? I've never even heard of it."

"Nonsense, I'm from there!"

………………

The leaders began to murmur amongst themselves, their eyes gleaming with unease and anxiety, while Diyuer simply waited quietly for them to finish speaking.

It didn't take long before, after sensing the subtle change in the atmosphere, even the most talkative people wisely shut their mouths, leaving an eerie silence.

"This stuff comes from there, and even I don't know its origin, but it really works... I've already tested it."

“Drip your blood on it, and we'll be in this together. Anyone who breaks the oath will be cursed... Then I'll tell you the whole plan. If you don't dare, you can turn around and leave now. After all, I haven't said those words yet. You can regret it if you want, but you'll have to figure it out yourself after that. We can't help you.”

"If you still dare to betray us after we've dripped blood on you... well, I can't control you then. I can only say I admire you, after all, you're much bolder than us. So, have you made up your mind?"

He pushed the paper forward, displaying it to everyone. The faded bloodstains on it were even more striking under the firelight... After studying it, accompanied by a vicious grumble, the bearded man in the brown-red leather jacket stepped forward first, decisively slicing his finger with a sharp blade, letting the blood drip onto the paper.

"At a time like this, stop being a coward."

Someone took the lead, and then several drops of blood began to fall. After the last person cut their finger and spilled their blood, everyone felt a strange, unique sensation, as if a connection had suddenly formed between them. Perhaps it was just their imagination, but most people were willing to believe that some terrible pact had been established among them, and they inexplicably trusted each other more.

Diyur finally nodded, then waved for everyone to gather around before lowering his voice:

“We’re being forced to our deaths by that damned red-haired bastard. There’s no way for us to survive here. Even if we run now, we’ll live in fear for the rest of our lives… We might as well end it all and go to Casapia! Marshal Natamus’s legion is there.”

"What are you going there for? Are you just asking for trouble... What do you mean?!"

“That’s right.” In the firelight, his eyes grew even darker. “That’s exactly what I mean. And if we succeed, we might not only avoid going to our deaths, but we’ll also have a tremendous opportunity to rise to prominence! We can become nobles too!!”

Salmer trembled as he released his grip, the dagger clanging against the pebbles on the ground. Looking into the man's bright eyes, he was genuinely shocked by the man's audacity. But at the same time, something that made his whole body tremble began to spread uncontrollably within him, both fiery and sharp as a blade, burning his heart so much that it felt like it was about to explode, spewing out molten lava.

358 Prisoners and Value (1)

The blade of the dagger has been polished to a gleaming shine, but the finest tip still retains steel burrs, hindering the thin blade from cutting into objects. Therefore, it needs to be gently scraped and rubbed on rough, thick leather to remove this final imperfection—this step is generally called "sweeping the blade."

Generally, a single, careful sharpening is enough to make a blade sharp enough for most situations. This technique is only used when extreme sharpness is required, such as shaving off facial hair.

In such cases, if the blade is not sharp enough, it will often bring an extremely bad experience to the user. The pain of having the beard pulled and rubbed, and being forcibly pulled out, is not unbearable, but it is enough to make people grit their teeth and start to regret their roughness.

Having already suffered many losses in this matter, Tersolius was naturally not to be careless. He was already sharpening his dagger on a whetstone and casually began to wipe away the burrs on his boots.

Imperial men rarely grow long beards, which is related to their country's deep-rooted military tradition. Overly long hair and beards would affect the wearing of helmets, make it difficult to maintain hygiene and grooming, and would also hinder treatment when injured. Therefore, even the men who most wanted to appear mature and composed would only grow a beard of less than half an inch.

Thesolius, on the other hand, simply didn't grow a beard, shaving it clean every time, as he could no longer tolerate the strange sensation of a long beard.

At this moment, the night outside was gradually deepening. The fine hardwood in the brazier burning in his tent was slowly and steadily releasing heat, but the light it provided was still not clear enough for me, and I had to rely entirely on his excellent eyesight to make up for it.

The soap lather covered half his face. He gently scraped the skin with a sharp blade, shaving off the lather and stubble. Finally, he wiped his face with a clean towel, restoring his skin to its smooth state.

It was a small matter and didn't take much of his energy. In fact, he even had time to think about other things during the process, such as the parchment on his left.

Only a handful of people are qualified to see what's written on that piece of paper. Even during its journey here, it has already used nine encryption methods, with one more added at each node it passes through, to ensure that no villains can touch it.

The above content was quite simple and clear: his fleet reported that the Abatheris family's group had left the eastern bay and fled south... In other words, the imperial fleet was confident from beginning to end that it could intercept them and let this defeated noble remnant army sink completely into the ocean to feed the fish.

Their escape was not due to any clever planning or luck, but simply because Thesolius ordered them to be released, leaving these defeated soldiers to flee dejectedly across the sea.

The reason for doing so is simple—they are hardly a threat to their own legion anymore, and a group of defeated soldiers who have voluntarily fled the battlefield have no morale or fighting spirit. These survivors who barely escaped with their lives will probably find it difficult to face the Imperial Legion again in the future.

However, their act of fleeing the battlefield was indeed an intolerable act of betrayal... Therefore, it would be better for him to let them return to their own country than to let them sink into the sea to feed the fish, which would be more beneficial for his next conquest.

To make the situation more interesting and exciting, he wouldn't completely wipe out the remnants of the Assel's army led by their commander, Samir... provided, of course, that they wouldn't resist; otherwise, he would have no choice but to continue using war to achieve his goals.

The best approach would be to send someone who can convince the other party to persuade them... and who could be more suitable than Alva's daughter? This is her last remaining value to me, and keeping her here would be pointless.

After shaving off the last hair, Tersolius carefully wiped his face with a hot towel and let out a long sigh of relief, feeling much more relaxed... perhaps a little too relaxed.

Having long been accustomed to the intense, nerve-wracking nature of war, the sudden relaxation made him feel somewhat bored, and he even subconsciously developed a new expectation for war, eagerly hoping that new enemies would appear in front of his army to challenge him.

These thoughts seemed natural and intense, and he was already used to these sudden ideas, so after a little adjustment, he wouldn't pay them any more attention.

The last legion of Assele that escaped from him numbered around 1, but most of them were remnants of a defeated army whose original structure had been destroyed. They could no longer stop his army's advance, nor could they provide any cover for themselves. After all, their cavalry had been completely scattered by the Imperial Legion in the previous battle and had fled into the surrounding areas of the battlefield, so his light cavalry could easily track down these fleeing enemies.

He would need to deal with the scattered and fleeing tribal cavalry afterward, otherwise those remnants would certainly not hesitate to plunder villages and towns, which would disrupt the order he had finally managed to establish.

The wounds he inflicted on Assele this time were not just bleeding, but also tearing a large chunk of flesh from its most vulnerable spot, even damaging its fragile internal organs... It's just a pity that the Shah of this country was no incompetent man. Before he led his legion to continue south, he mobilized enough troops to block the southward passage, and in the end, he still managed to protect their most fertile and important eastern plains.

Of course, he wasn't without confidence if he really wanted to attack, but this time he had indeed eaten too much at once. The rich land of the entire kingdom was enough for the entire empire to digest for a long time, and his soldiers' desire for merit had also been satisfied.

Continuing the attack would be counterproductive and would only destabilize the lands he conquers, giving those already restless individuals a reason to have different ideas. It would be better to stop here.

Of course, he wouldn't give up those easily obtainable benefits... such as the ransom for a large number of nobles and soldiers. This mountain of gold would surely make the wealthy people of Asel bleed a good amount of money, which would make all his efforts worthwhile.

Now, it's time to have a good talk with Miss Alva; I believe she'll also be able to recognize her current situation.

………………

Having made up his mind, Thesolius stood up, pushed back his chair, touched his now smooth chin one last time, and inexplicably laughed out loud.

"It's like I take special care of myself..."

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

The imperial camp in the darkness maintained a quietness unimaginable to other countries' military camps. Everything here was under the control of order. Not only were the soldiers' tents as neatly arranged as if measured with a ruler, but even the soldiers who patrolled at night with torches maintained an extremely strict order and regularity, wave after wave. The silent scraping sound of iron armor was almost suffocating.

They would often check each other's commands when they met, and this special signal would be changed three times in one night. If the other party could not answer, they could be arrested immediately to ensure that no spies could infiltrate the heavily guarded camp.

The ironclad order of this unit was enough to instill despair, enough to extinguish any prisoner's desire for freedom, and to make them obediently stay in their barracks and wait for the day of release.

But for Alva, she no longer cared whether she would be released or not... In fact, she was now terrified of being released.

"My mind is in complete turmoil" is the most apt description of her current state. The successive blows have left her mentally confused and sluggish, yet she is instinctively terrified of what will happen next.

She knew perfectly well that the cruel and cunning man was plotting something even worse, scheming to use her to gain more, like a hungry wolf thinking about how to use a cub to lure more prey. This sent chills down her spine, and even falling asleep became a luxury.

She couldn't control her anxiety, and a sense of foreboding lingered in her mind. But she was powerless to do anything about it, and couldn't make any effort to change the situation... She couldn't even figure out whether her father had survived that devastating defeat.

In the pitch-black night, she was too lazy to even turn on the lights in her room. She just sat on her bed like a wooden doll, listening to the footsteps of the imperial soldiers patrolling outside the window, the light from their torches flickering through her windowpanes.

"well…………"

Alva could only sigh softly, clenching his hands in the darkness, lamenting his cruel and unpredictable fate.

Boom! Boom! Boom! ...

Suddenly, the sound of iron boots pounding the ground came from the darkness. Before she could react, the gleam of silver armor flashed past the window, and in an instant, the outside was brightly lit by torches. Then, without stopping, a steady and powerful knocking sound rang out on the door.

This sudden turn of events made her hesitate for a moment, but she still stood up and went to open the door... Then she subconsciously took two steps back and involuntarily clenched her teeth...

In the firelight, the tall Thesolius pushed the door open completely, his iron boots making a crisp sound on the wooden planks, his face, with its sharp, chiseled features, was obscured in the darkness.

As if he were in his own home, the man casually bent down to pick up the oil lamp from the table beside him, then took the torch from the guard outside and lit the lamp.

"Don't panic, I have good news for you... Sit down, let's talk."

In the darkness that was suddenly dispelled, his voice seemed to carry the coldness of steel scraping against steel.

359 Prisoners and Value (2)

Good news… The girl almost chewed on the words bitterly, feeling the mouthful of blood and the rusty smell of steel filling her mouth, choking her so much that she was about to cough, almost unable to move her tongue, and unable to speak.

She was almost terrified of the man before her, terrified of what words might slip from his marble-sculpted lips... words that would inevitably push her further into a miserable and terrible fate.

The dim firelight in the room seemed to amplify this mood. The other person's tall figure almost filled the entire doorway, completely blocking out all outside light. His dark red rusted steel armor gleamed in the firelight.

These dark red marks unexpectedly caught her attention temporarily, bringing a terrible sorrow to her heart—how much of that blood was from the Assele? How thick must the blood plasma have been to leave such deep-rooted marks?

With a click, the clay oil lamp was placed on the table. Its funnel-shaped body kept it well-balanced and insulated it from the heat, preventing it from igniting the wooden tabletop. At that moment, it also emitted a soft light in all directions.

The man was not wearing a helmet; his hair was slightly disheveled, his skin was smooth, and his eyes, hidden beneath long, thin eyebrows, appeared deep and dangerous. Outside the house, armored guards silently surrounded it, their breathing suppressed within their helmets.

"Don't panic, this is indeed good news, Miss Alva. After all, regaining freedom is something to celebrate for anyone, and I believe you are no exception."

“Ah, sir… I certainly understand the preciousness of freedom, and who would willingly lose it? But what price will I have to pay to exchange this precious freedom? You might as well put it more clearly.”

The girl, dressed in a gorgeous silk robe, forced herself to calm down and urged her thoughts to race, trying to figure out the intentions and thoughts of the person in front of her.

“That’s right, I like to get straight to the point. Let’s skip the boring roundabout ways… My purpose in coming here is simple, Miss. You are no longer of any use to me if you stay here, so I have decided to let you go. Of course, considering that this area is not safe after the recent war, I will also send a cavalry to escort you to your father’s side.”

“I will provide for all your needs on the road, whether it is food and water for the horses or anything else. I will not use you to demand any ransom... Simply put, you can leave at your leisure tomorrow, with all your entourage.”

"And the only thing I need you to do is very simple: convey my greetings and advice to your father."

At this point, Tersolius straightened his body slightly and leaned against the rough wooden wall of the room—made of pine wood that had not been felled for long and had not yet been completely dried. The bark had been removed and it had undergone slight carbonization, so there was no risk of insect infestation, but it would still crack and warp in a short time, destroying the structure of the entire house. However, it was a temporary substitute.

Trees used for building houses must be allowed to dry in the shade for at least a year to remove most of their moisture, so that they can become strong and stable... This is a process that requires patience, and only patience can give birth to truly valuable masterpieces.

This house will be demolished tomorrow, the timber will be used to make other things or directly for firewood, and their army will continue its march—he will not give up preparations for war, nor will he give up using this bloody and direct method in a timely manner, until he receives a real response.

"The war is over, and you have undoubtedly suffered a crushing defeat... In fact, it took us a long time just to collect the bodies of the fallen. Even now, my reserve troops are still clearing that battlefield. You have tasted the bitter fruit of defeat, and the remaining troops are not enough to resist even the slightest probing attack from me."

"I believe you are well aware that, in their current state, they are likely to scatter at the mere sight of my legion on the horizon... Therefore, I hope you will convey my advice—"

He tapped his finger lightly on the wooden tabletop, producing a crisp sound on the hard wood.

"This is my suggestion out of respect for a brave and patriot—this land now belongs to the Empire, and all the Asel people living on this land should disarm themselves. They can keep their clothing and soft armor, but they must voluntarily surrender their armor and weapons. In this way, they can maintain their last shred of dignity, no one will be harmed again, and they can return home afterward."

"Of course, you can also choose to continue resisting and fight for your dignity with your blades and spears, and I will respect your decision. I will respond in kind, but if things really come to that, I will have no more pity for you."

"After all, my attempt to shed less blood does not mean I have to do so, and my soldiers and generals are happy to earn more merits."

"Alright, that's all I wanted to say. I believe you've heard it clearly. Now, you can speak."

Tersolius naturally controlled the pace of the conversation, while his captive remained completely silent, not even glancing at him or showing any change in expression.

"Then, allow me to ask one last question, sir: what will you exchange for this dignity? I don't think you would be so generous as to simply release ten thousand enemies."

"Of course not. In fact, you will be imprisoned until the Shah of Asel pays us enough ransom before you are finally freed and can return to your homeland and country."

“Then there’s no need for me to convey your message any further, sir…” Alva raised her head, a resolute and cold glint in her eyes:

“I can give you the answer right now. My father will not accept it. He will never accept such a humiliation. Rather than suffer such disgrace, he would rather lead the last of the troops he can mobilize to crash head-on into the iron wall of the Imperial Legion than accept such an outcome.”

"Since I will still become your prisoner in the future, what is the point of leaving? I am already quite used to living here, so there is no need for me to do anything unnecessary."

Thesorius squinted his eyes, amused.

"Is that so? Your father is so fierce that even if it means their last remaining forces will be wiped out in one battle, he would rather accept a ransom to pay for his own life? I don't think this request is excessive. As the victor, I have the right to it."

“I am his daughter, my lord. No one in this world knows my father’s character better than I do. In fact, if it weren’t for the final duty he had to complete, he would have led his personal guards in a final, desperate charge against you the moment of defeat, atoning for the humiliation of defeat with his own death.”

"He was a proud man, an adult, but he was able to control his pride for the sake of the country most of the time. However, he still valued his dignity at heart, and he was still proud..."

Silence descended silently upon them. Alva's face was stiff and cold, like a stone sculpture, while Tersolius tapped his fingers thoughtfully... until, after a long while, he slowly raised his head.

“Well, as Samir’s daughter, you are indeed more qualified to draw such a conclusion… You are now completely trapped in a dead end. There will be no one to come to your aid, and the ocean has long been blocked by us. In other words, you are now like scorpions that have fallen into a fire pit, unable to move forward or backward.”

“Your father may be fiery and want to end it all… but is this really the outcome your Shah wanted? Does he really want the generals and the last strength of his army that he valued to be completely wiped out here? This is not good for the whole of Asel, and therefore not good for your Shah.”

“Your father will not accept this easily, but that is precisely why I am releasing you… Sometimes sacrifices are necessary for a more important purpose. I believe you will eventually be able to figure out what outcome would be better for your country, and you will naturally do what you should do.”

"So tomorrow I will still release you and your entourage as usual, and I will still send cavalry to escort you to your father's side. After that, I will order the legion to continue advancing. If you do not send back a message, then I will launch an attack, that's all. Then I will naturally know your choice."

"Since it's late, I won't disturb your rest any longer. After all, we still have a long and bumpy journey ahead tomorrow... May you sleep peacefully, Miss."

He slowly yawned, but he didn't look tired at all. His eyes were still as bright as candlelight. He simply nodded and then turned and left without hesitation.

Soon, the armored vehicles outside the window left in an orderly fashion, leaving only the burning oil lamp in the room.

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

A cold, damp wind blew in from the north. The strong man in the leather chain armor sneezed, muttered a curse about the damn weather, and then tried to pull his feet out of the mud that could submerge the soles of his boots with a look of disgust.

He carried a sharp, heavy halberd on his shoulder—a weapon with a wide, thick blade and an elongated, conical end, and a protruding spike on the back for hammering armor and pulling cavalrymen off their horses. It was versatile and powerful, but due to its weight and center of gravity, it had to be shortened, at most only a small portion above the user's head.

This weapon is easy to grasp but difficult to use skillfully. Because its center of gravity is too far forward and the distance is difficult to control, an additional iron bar needs to be added to the handle to resist the slashing of swords. It often requires fighting in formation and coordinating with other weapons to unleash its maximum power.

The man walked alone at the back of the carriage, with the nearest old soldier carrying a shield a good five or six meters away—meaning that he would have little chance of getting support from his teammates in case of an emergency and would often have to deal with things on his own.

In a mercenary group, someone who would dare to do that is either extremely careless and foolish or has enough confidence in themselves... and he clearly belongs to the latter.

The axe-spear on his shoulder had clearly been reinforced. The iron bars, which would normally only account for one-third of the total length, ran from head to tail and were fully attached to all four sides of the handle. At first glance, it would almost look like a long pole made of steel.

The blade and the pointed cone on the back of the axe-spear are noticeably thicker and heavier, making it look like a huge meat cleaver. The blade is polished to a gleaming shine, but the body of the blade has a dark color full of scratches and blood rust, giving it a weathered and bloody appearance.

"Basur, we'll reach our destination tonight. The commander wants you to go over and discuss things with him after dinner."

With the sound of mud being trampled, a horse, though not particularly tall, was driven over. The rider wore a wide-brimmed helmet, and his leather armor was reinforced with gleaming silver chains at vital points. His feet were bound with leather ropes studded with copper nails, and his main weapon was a short spear carried on his shoulder.

"Ugh, I know, this damn rain has soaked me to the bone..."