Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

"Since you know this, how can you still eat it... Don't tell me you already have a way."

The man named Salmer raised an eyebrow, ready to continue arguing. But suddenly a thought flashed through his mind, causing him to lower his voice and involuntarily reveal an expectant expression on his face:

"If you really have a solution, tell us. Don't leave us here worrying."

Diyur narrowed his eyes, his whole demeanor suddenly turning serious. After looking around, he drew out his voice:

"There is indeed a solution. It just depends on whether you have the guts... Because if this solution is actually used, we could easily be killed without a burial place. In that case, being skinned alive would be the least of our worries."

The mercenary leaders exchanged glances, and finally, one of them, a bearded man in a brownish-red leather jacket, gritted his teeth and slammed his fist on the table:

"Damn it, we're going to die anyway! If we keep going east, even ten of us wouldn't be enough to fill the Imperials' trenches. Rather than becoming cannon fodder, we might as well take a gamble! ...If I make it back alive this time, I'm definitely going to rip that bastard's tongue out! He even told me it was some kind of good job..."

"That's right, let's at least take a gamble! They think they can buy our lives with this little bit of money!"

"I heard the fighting in the south is quite fierce. I guess the Hols are about to collapse. If the Empire's southern legions turn back, not only us, but Salanod will probably be finished! We definitely can't go there to die."

Everyone chimed in with their own opinions, but their voices gradually began to converge. Once everyone had made up their minds, Diyul nodded, raised his arm, and waved it to the side. With a click, the windows and doors around them were slammed shut, plunging the room into complete darkness. Only the sound of raindrops pattering against the eaves could be heard.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, but you all know this is a matter of life and death. If anything goes wrong, we could all lose our lives. So I have to take some precautions…”

Before he finished speaking, he pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from his waist, spread it out on the table with his greasy hands, revealing scarlet, spiderweb-like patterns on it.

"If you're really determined, cut your finger and let the blood drip on it. Of course, that includes me too. This is to make sure we're all in the same boat and no one has any brain farts or other ideas that could kill everyone."

It looks like just a tattered piece of paper, stained with a lot of oil and crumpled up. Normally, no one would probably give it a second glance... It might be used to wipe one's bottom, but at this moment, it inexplicably exudes an eerie and sinister aura, like a devil's covenant to tempt people, making them inexplicably unwilling to get close.

"What—what is this?"

Salmer frowned, clearly having noticed the strangeness of the object, while Dijour had already picked up the dagger, gently pierced his fingertip, and squeezed out a few drops of blood with his thumb and middle finger, letting the blood drip onto the parchment:

"This isn't anything good, but we need it right now... Do you know Granny Saya?"

"You mean the legend that circulates in the swamp on the western border of the Duchy of Harold?! That old witch who collects dead people's bones to make soup?!"

His words immediately caused more commotion, and what was originally warm and dry now seemed to become bloody and damp.

"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.

Chapter 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.

Chapter 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."