Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

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..."

Chapter 352 Ending (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 marched in a disorganized formation, but their experience allowed them to subtly form a supportive ranks. Only the greenhorns, who earned only 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…

Chapter 353 Ending (3)

"You're hugging 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..."

"What about my tent?"

"Your central command tent has been set up."

Tersolius nodded, and after briefly determining the direction, he stepped forward—the imperial military camp was well-organized, and the commander's tent was not far from its location.

The night was filled with busy people. The auxiliary soldiers, who had been largely useless today, were digging trenches, setting up camp, and delivering food and hot soup prepared by the cooks to the soldiers.

After a fierce battle, every soldier was exhausted. Some even struggled to walk back to their camp. Every now and then, you could see soldiers who were too tired to eat, huddled together to sleep wherever they could find a spot. Their armor was covered in thick bloodstains, emitting a pungent stench of blood. No one bothered to clean it; they were all too exhausted to even think about collapsing into bed at any moment.

His tent was still set up in the very center of the camp. At this moment, bright firelight shone through the curtain. When he stepped into it with the clanging of his armor, he saw Talina with her dark blue hair scattered on the table, looking dazed and with her eyes half-closed.

Before the girl lay a thick stack of parchment, large drops of ink from her brass pen spreading across it, quickly obscuring the delicate, neat handwriting… But she was too exhausted to see clearly or hear anything else. Her head, adorned with a hairpin, tilted forward, little by little, but she never actually slumped onto the table to sleep, like a duckling trying to catch fish and shrimp.

Tersolius chuckled helplessly, gently placed the champion he was holding onto the wooden bed covered with a wolfskin rug, then stood up and went to the table, reaching out to touch Talina's constantly shaking head.

As he expected, this touch easily shattered the already fragile balance, causing Talina to fall forward headfirst... Before she could bury her head in the ink, Tersolius's hand caught her firmly in front of him, then gently pulled her back so that her shoulders rested on the high-backed chair. He then removed the magnificent, thick lion skin from his own shoulders and covered her with it.

"Ah?...My lord..."

The girl struggled to open her eyes a crack, then Thesolius covered them with his palm.

"Don't think about anything nonsense. We've already won. Now, get a good night's sleep... There's still a lot to deal with tomorrow."

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

"Do you still have any pinellia oil? Could you share some with me?"

Kochkin's lips twitched as he bumped his shoulder into Worif's shoulder, tossing his longbow into the corner of the tent while his other hand reached rather restlessly for a small pouch on Worif's side.

Wolf, however, showed no mercy and grabbed the man's wrist:

"It's gone, it's long gone. Where did the ones I allocated to you go? They were just sent out a month ago, how could you use them up so quickly?"

"Hey, didn't you find a wife in the city...? I thought this stuff was pretty useful, so... I know you probably still have some left, so share some with me, my hands are killing me."

Warif rolled his eyes, but still reached into the bag and pulled out a small white ceramic bottle:

"Use them sparingly. These are all for you. I'll go get two more bottles tomorrow."

"Ha! Thanks."