Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

On the vast, boundless plains, the war was finally coming to an end, about to clash in the most brutal and bloody way to determine the final victory. The armored cavalry, the decisive force of the empire, also cut into the battlefield from the flank, taking advantage of the moment when the Asel people wavered and retreated, preparing to seize the victory!

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The cold mud seeped in through the gaps in his boots, soaking his toes until they swelled and turned white. His skin even became so swollen and soft that it could be torn off with a fingernail, leaving a noticeable wound after it dried.

Many people's feet were already cold and numb, and they had to stay close to the fire for half a day to warm them up during each rest day to feel a little better. At this time, the terrible smell from thousands of boots and thousands of feet would permeate every corner of the tent, making it unbearable for most people.

His socks, made of fine cotton, were no match for the mud and were now just tattered rags soaked in sewage. His boots, once beautiful, were now pitted and mottled, clearly damaged.

The only good thing was that they ate quite well tonight. There was soup made from dried meat, as well as stew made from fresh chopped vegetables, served with toasted bread. It really whetted their appetites, and they all ate until they were stuffed.

These fresh vegetables were pulled from a vegetable field next to a village they passed through. The village was deserted long ago, leaving only these oddly shaped but still reasonably productive vegetables in the field. The mercenaries, of course, didn't hold back and turned over every inch of soil, throwing every single radish into the wagon.

Few can comprehend the feeling of soldiers like them upon encountering such fresh food—like a touch of cool, damp moisture on the lips in the scorching desert, instantly permeating the lungs and lungs, not only incredibly delicious but also a rare and precious treat.

After all, what they usually eat are foods that can be stored for a long time. Although this ensures that they have the strength and energy, eating the same food for several days will taste bland and their stomachs crave foods rich in vitamins and fiber.

In addition, two unfortunate wild boars were captured from the forest by one of their sharpshooters. One was made into soup, and the other was skewered with wood and roasted over a fire.

These past few days, Diyul has been lost in thought, a growing doubt making him hesitant to continue... as if he were walking towards a raging volcano, where molten lava awaits to melt his bones.

It was a rather inexplicable premonition that he should have easily dismissed, but for some reason he just couldn't let it go and kept it bothering him.

Just as he frowned and frantically scratched his head, the bushes beside him suddenly swayed. Instinctively, he frowned again and reached for the hilt of his sword…

I'm experiencing some writer's block.

I got home a bit late today. I wanted to work harder to finish writing, but I wasn't satisfied with the result. It took me ages to write just over 1000 words, and now I'm completely exhausted. My eyelids are drooping with sleep. Sorry (||?_?)

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Chapter 346 Discovery

The bushes swayed incessantly, causing him to frown in surprise—it could be a badger, an assassin wielding a dagger, or even two rats fighting inside, but he would never let his guard down easily.

The safest course of action at this point would be to stand up and take five steps back like he did—at this distance, unless the other party has a crossbow, they would be unable to attack him. Then, call in the four or five brothers guarding outside, and you can almost certainly catch the guy inside.

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 there was nothing there.

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..."

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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...

Chapter 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.