Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

...which makes things seem delicate.

Moreover, most of these records are quite vague and unclear, and are only based on the vague records of post stations and towns along the way. Because they always comply with the regulations and only the receiving army can verify and calculate them, they have remained calm and inconspicuous.

However, upon closer examination, the amount of lost materials is quite staggering, representing a considerable sum of money.

Comparing the reports of material losses with the records made by the local officials protecting the people in various towns and villages will reveal even more problems...

The road near Bayate village in Caguaril town. Due to a mudslide caused by prolonged heavy rain, three wagons carrying 347 Priyar of salted fish spoiled and became moldy during transport. Three other wagons and four mules sustained varying degrees of damage and required replacement or repair.

According to records from Bayat village, the mudslide did indeed destroy a section of the road, but prior to that, pedestrians and caravans had already bypassed it, choosing a slightly longer but still traversable route. The village's able-bodied men were quickly organized to clear the mud and rocks from the road, restoring it to passability in just two days... During this period, there were no records of any supply convoys passing through.

For example, last spring, another mudslide destroyed roads, affecting a convoy transporting arrows. A total of 12 units of arrows were buried under the mud, rendering them unusable, and several livestock were also crushed to death...

Local township records show that the team took a wide road, not the side road that was destroyed by the mudslide.

………………

Upon closer investigation, similar incidents were found to be numerous and scattered over a very long period of time. The amount of supplies lost each time remained within a certain limit, which was sufficient to meet the army's requirements. Therefore, the officials and militiamen responsible for escorting the supplies did not receive any substantial punishment.

Just like an ant is unlikely to attract attention, especially when the focus is limited to a small area... but if you broaden your perspective, you can see countless ants scattered everywhere, which is startling and makes you marvel at how many creatures have gathered here without you even realizing it.

If each incident were taken out of context, it would be an ordinary, albeit unfortunate, accident. But when so many accidents come together, even the most righteous and the most foolish person can sense that something is amiss.

As the small parchment scroll in his hand was tossed into the flames, accompanied by a strange, acrid smell, the writing on it turned to ash along with the scroll. Thasorius reattached the small copper tube to the bird's claw, gently nudged the potato-sized object with his finger, and the bird flapped its wings, silently departing the central command tent once more, leaving only a few faint scratch marks on the table.

Rapid, hurried footsteps could be heard outside the barrier, accompanied by slight panting. Alka's hard, cold voice rang out from outside:

"My lord, the logistics supervisor Caglianodos has arrived and is waiting outside the tent."

"Let him in."

As the door of the spacious barracks was gently knocked, an imperial man with a large beard walked in calmly and composedly. The silk cap he wore reflected a subtle golden light under the lamp, and his silk robe was embroidered with roses and peonies. His boots were equally exquisite and sturdy.

The most noticeable feature is the man's back—like that of a poor man loading and unloading cargo at the port, his spine is bent and deformed.

Chapter 230 The Termites (1)

Caglianodos, this is his legion's logistics chief.

This man's position is crucial to the army's survival. No matter how powerful an army is, it cannot function without supplies and cannot fight on an empty stomach. Because of his past steady and reliable performance, he now serves as the logistics manager for the entire army, a truly heavy responsibility.

The Sorelius promoted him from a minor clerk in charge of managing warehouses at the post station to his current position because he valued the man's prudence, carefulness, and thriftiness. And since then, the man has never had to worry about supplies.

His difficult early life caused him to have a bent back and deformed bones by the time he was in his thirties. His upper body was unnaturally bent, which became a lifelong disability. He could not even walk fast and had to stop to check the road from time to time.

The man was granted permission to enter the central military tent. His boots, which had been covered in mud from walking on the muddy ground, were now quite dirty, making the beautiful velvet uppers look shabby. Despite his physical limitations, he bowed respectfully to Tersolius the moment he entered, addressing him as "Sir Consul."

"Get up, Carianados. I didn't tell you to come and bow to me... How long until the first phase of supplies is complete?"

Caglianodos straightened his back slightly, a thoughtful expression on his face, while his fingers unconsciously rubbed together. After a while, a look of affirmation appeared on his face:

"At most half a month, sir. At most half a month, we will be able to complete the first phase of preparations and the army can set off."

…………

Tersolius suddenly fell silent, which made the usually composed man somewhat uneasy, and he would occasionally look up and glance at him.

"It sounds like everything is going well... but I have one more question for you to answer."

A slightly curled piece of parchment flew across the table, glided across the smooth lacquered surface, and finally came to a precise stop in front of the man.

"Take a look at these records first, then give me an answer—is this something that would normally happen?"

The man carefully examined the writing on the parchment, his expression shifting from calm to surprise, and finally a hint of panic appeared...

Seeing the change in the other person's expression, Thesorius already knew the answer, and his own expression immediately darkened.

"It seems you also know that this situation is not normal. Although losses in supplies are common, how could there be unexpected losses every time? If it weren't for someone being quick-witted and alert, who knows how long this situation would have continued."

"Although these losses are just a drop in the ocean compared to the supplies we've gathered for the army, we can't afford to be negligent or careless. I can't tolerate any parasites sucking the life out of the army's supply lines... You're my logistics supervisor, so this is your responsibility. I'll have someone help you get a result in these last two weeks, understand?"

The man nodded deeply, his face serious, and his large beard trembled uncontrollably.

"Understood! I'll check right away."

Tersolius waved his hand slightly, and the man nodded and withdrew. Soon, the sound of carriage wheels rolling over the rammed earth could be heard outside, growing fainter and fainter as it quickly faded into the distance, until the shouts and commands from the military camp once again took over.

Under the bright crystal lamp, Tersolis's sharply defined face showed a distinct division between light and shadow, which also made his eyes appear obscure and hidden in the shadow of his eyebrows.

………………

Even without war, a qualified soldier cannot neglect the honing of martial arts skills. This is their means of survival. The cruel and bloody battlefield will never give the weak and incompetent a second chance. They will only use their own blood and sweat to lubricate the enemy's blade, becoming the martial arts skills that the enemy boasts about.

Baria understood this deeply, so he never dared to relax. Even though he had gained what others saw as a meteoric rise to become a member of the legion, only here did he realize that his talent was not outstanding at all. What he had once been complacent and proud of was now just mediocre...

Those who can join the elite legion are all outstanding young men, and all of them have fought their way out from a large number of candidates. Talent is abundant here, and there has never been an incompetent person among those who can stand here.

Therefore, in order to gain a foothold here and to be worthy of his current glorious status, Balia never dared to relax in the slightest. He always urged his friend Caledo to hone his skills together, just like heating and forging a piece of stubborn iron to remove impurities, so that his skills would be more precise and his craft more proficient.

There are no shortcuts to this; it can only be achieved through years of hard work and dedication, and there is no room for falsehood.

It was still the same simple short sword and shield, what Baria was best at, and what his father had taught him since he was a child...

Carefully protecting his side with his shield, he concealed his short sword behind the wide shield, blocking the opponent's view and concealing his intentions, like a snake hiding under fallen leaves, whose only attack would be to inject venom into its prey.

His comrades in the same squad stood on his left and right sides, protecting his flanks, while he also protected the flanks of his comrades. The entire squad cooperated closely, maintaining a strict formation with an almost demanding level of discipline, and advanced step by step.

Two sharp and sturdy spears extended from behind his shoulders to the front. His hands, holding the spears firmly and steadily, were his most powerful shield and support. More spears extended from other places, turning the entire formation into a jungle of steel. Anyone who dared to collide with them was destined to have their head bruised and bloodied, and their bodies piled up like mountains.

They were fully armored as always—Baria had never worn such fine and heavy armor before. The sturdy iron plates, forged and quenched, could shatter blades. Tough leather straps were woven together to cover their entire bodies, and even their calves were wrapped in solid steel plates. The straps fixed to various parts of their bodies distributed the weight to the greatest extent possible, so as not to cause too much burden.

Their pointed helmets covered most of their faces and noses, leaving only their eyes and mouths exposed. The back of their heads and necks were protected by chainmail and sturdy iron bars. Few parts of their bodies were exposed, making them virtually indestructible and impervious to swords and blades. Only in this way could they become part of the imperial army's impregnable defenses.

Their footsteps were heavy and orderly, crushing their opponents like an iron wall. Their opponents were dressed the same, with the same footsteps and the same tactics. There were no fancy moves, only head-on collisions and relentless attrition.

First came the contact of spears. Although the spearheads were only blunt, covered with cotton cloth, and could not cause any harm, the spearmen on both sides were still focused on probing and thrusting, while simultaneously deflecting the opponent's spears, trying to gain the upper hand.

Every now and then, someone would be stabbed by a spear, and the referee would judge the effectiveness of the blow. If it was a fatal weak point or a place that had taken too many hits, the person would be judged dead and would have to retreat from the line of battle, to be replaced by their comrades.

Caledo, who was most skilled with a spear, would occasionally let out a deep shout as his spear thrust out fiercely and swiftly, but most of the time it would only return empty-handed against the sturdy shield or helmet. Balia, on the other hand, held the shield and protected his front tightly. The two cooperated very closely, relying on the shield and the sturdy armor to firmly plant their feet in the ground without the slightest wavering.

The shield and short sword in his hands were prepared for the moment of clash; until then, he had to hold firm and not retreat in the slightest...

As the two sides drew closer, the battle between the elite forces became increasingly fierce. Every now and then, someone would fall to the ground due to serious injuries and leave, while the remaining ones would silently tighten their formation and continue their advance.

The most intense collision inevitably occurred; Baria felt as if a bull had crashed into his shield. His towering opponent clearly possessed considerable strength, causing Baria to involuntarily stumble backward, on the verge of being knocked to the ground…

Just then, a new leader appeared from behind him. His friend Caledo braced his back with his shoulder, allowing him to regain his footing as he was about to fall to the ground, and grit his teeth to hold his own against his opponent.

The shoving of shields, the piercing of swords, the smashing of iron staffs, the chiseling of battle axes, and the back-and-forth slashing of halberds and great axes instantly turned this place into a bloody meat grinder—of course, this is just a metaphor; no blood was spilled, and no one became a corpse. Only one after another, the "fallen" were confirmed to have been hit in vital areas and had their armor destroyed, either with the help of others or by their own efforts, and they left that scorched area.

If the swords in their hands were sharpened weapons, if the iron staffs and battle axes were not safe weapons made of wood... at this moment, this place would surely be a scene of hell, with elites in full armor fighting each other, destined to be extremely fierce, until one side, tormented by death and injury, could no longer hold on and turned to flee.

A heavy, moon-bladed axe slammed down on the shield in Barea's hand. Although it was made of wood wrapped with iron and wouldn't kill anyone, the heavy impact still made Barea grit his teeth, and his originally tight defense was exposed at that moment.

His opponent was far more experienced, and his attacks were seamlessly connected. Even in the crowded ranks, he accurately seized the opportunity, using a fierce charge to widen his opening. The shield slipped from his left hand, and he could only watch as the heavy axe came crashing down on his head...

Even with a sturdy helmet, even with a training axe encased in iron, this blow was destined to injure him and send him crashing down...

Baria did not panic. Instead, he calmly reflected on the brief but intense exchange, summarizing his shortcomings and accumulating more experience to defeat his opponent next time.

However, his reflection and summary this time seems to have come a little too early.

Caledo! His ever-reliable and intelligent friend once again played a crucial role at a critical moment.

Taking advantage of its length, the spear pierced the opponent's throat—which was protected only by a single layer of chainmail—at the very moment of his triumph. Such precision and speed meant that even the slightest deviation would have resulted in striking the sturdy armor plates.

The axe was never swung. His opponent, with a frustrated expression, was dragged away, while he was immediately helped up by his comrades and rejoined the battle...

After a brutal and grueling battle, Baria and his team finally achieved victory at a heavy cost. Although only six men remained standing in their squad, their opponents were completely wiped out.

The long hours of fighting in armor had left them all panting heavily. Sweat soaked through their inner linings, and if it weren't for the cool autumn weather, some of them would probably have already given up and started taking off their helmets. But now they were just feeling a bit hot and would recover after a short rest.

Despite their physical exhaustion, everyone was still in high spirits, cheering for this hard-won victory... Although it only lasted for a very short time, it was enough to uplift everyone's spirits.

This is not only because winning the competition with my comrades demonstrated my strength, but also because this victory has a substantial reward... The winning team can each get an extra glass of rare ale at dinner tonight - a freshly poured, frothy, and refreshing ale from the cool basement.

Although there was alcohol available, it was rationed and limited. In the disciplined army, extra portions were extremely rare, causing great suffering to many alcoholics. Some audacious and quick-witted individuals would even save their own portion and sell it to comrades who were eager for alcohol, earning themselves a little extra money.

Although this kind of thing is not explicitly prohibited, if you get caught doing it, you'll definitely get a scolding.

Their opponents were somewhat dejected, mainly because of the blow this defeat dealt them—they were all proud and strong young men, none of whom wanted to admit they were inferior to others, and each of them was determined to prove it.

After the cheers, they would then face the next training. Being a soldier in the elite legion was not easy; they spent a large part of their day training, during which time they were well-fed and well-hydrated to ensure they had healthy and strong bodies so they could become the empire's most elite and powerful soldiers in the future.

They were trained by elite veterans from the legion. In the final period before joining the great battle, their training became increasingly arduous and demanding, leaving each of them feeling like they were in heaven.

Seeing the training instructor holding that parchment book again, everyone felt a chill run down their spines, wondering with some unease what new things they would be learning next…

Chapter 231 The Termites (2)

Two long military knives clashed against each other, sparks flying from the hard steel. The blades did not separate immediately upon contact. In an instant, one of them pressed down with the blade near the handguard, controlling the opponent's center line and suppressing the weapon from the side. With a piercing sound of metal scraping against metal, the sharp blade of the military knife thrust straight along the opponent's weapon, stopping the sharp tip on the sturdy plate of the chest armor.

"Did you all see that clearly? We must take advantage of the moment the opponent launches an attack to simultaneously execute our defense and counterattack..."

The seasoned veterans of the legion are practicing various unique offensive, defensive, and counter-attacking techniques with these greenhorns. These precious techniques were honed on the brutal battlefield, honed through the exchange of life and blood, and are the most concise and effective, without any superfluous elements.

These valuable experiences are often what allow people to survive on the battlefield. They are invaluable to any soldier. Unless they have a life-or-death bond with someone in the same hundred-man squad, few people would take the initiative to pass on the skills they have summarized to others in the army.

But now, the situation has changed dramatically...

While the veterans were diligently teaching these greenhorns, they were also learning themselves. Many of the things were things that even these battle-hardened elite soldiers had never heard of before. Although they were in the same legion, under the strict discipline, their social relationships were often limited to their own thousand-man squads, and it was difficult for them to communicate with other units.

Some of them hadn't even mastered it themselves, yet they were diligently studying and practicing on the sidelines. In elite units, foolish soldiers were rare; they rarely survived their first engagement. Everyone understood the importance of these things—they were the capital for meritorious service and the foundation upon which these soldiers depended for their livelihood.

For a time, the vast military camps stretching for dozens of miles were filled with such bustling activity. On the eve of the war, the empire's soldiers were racing against time to hone their martial skills, just like sharpening their longswords before a duel, making the sharp blades gleam coldly and capable of cutting hair with a single blow.

Sharp arrows shot from powerful crossbows and heavy bows, turning into a deadly rain of iron that riddled the distant targets with holes.

A galloping steed, carrying a skilled rider, roared in. A dense forest of spears plowed through the ground, leaving only scattered debris. Swords, iron staffs, and chain hammers, whistling past, easily tore apart the wooden targets with the force of the horses' impact.

The steel wall formed by heavy infantry was indestructible. Every step they took and every command they gave was like a rumbling thunderclap across the ground, making people tremble with fear, eager to leave first, and afraid to face their sharp edge.

The light cavalrymen's cloaks fluttered wildly in the air, moving with lightning speed, occasionally scattering arrows like raindrops, swiftly traversing the plains like a long red serpent.

…………

Amidst this cacophony, the splendidly dressed Assele delegation arrived at the center of Tersolius's army. Their silk robes, embroidered with intricate patterns and adorned with gold and silver, their hats inlaid with jewels and precious metals, and their boots embroidered with gold thread depicting flowers of the four seasons, created a dazzling spectacle of opulent jewels. One might suspect they were not an official Assele delegation, but rather a group of wealthy merchants of unknown origin.

The massive military camp was filled with the sounds of battle and the strict discipline of commands. Even the most arrogant and reckless individuals would learn to restrain their tempers here, to be respectful and yielding amidst the countless armored warriors, swords, spears, and lances, and to slow their pace under the banners that resembled a red cloud.

Moreover, whether intentionally or not, the delegation's carriages, guided by officers, would always pass through densely packed military camps, with gleaming swords and spears grazing the carriages, as if these fierce soldiers would swarm forward at any moment and tear the carriages and their occupants to pieces...

The members of the Shituan group also became increasingly silent. They had been discussing their next plans in hushed tones, but now they simply kept quiet, looking at the elite soldiers with serious expressions, their faces growing increasingly grim.