Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

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..."

The man carrying the axe sighed, wiped the water droplets from his beard, and straightened his back. He took two steps forward and came to a carriage whose rear wheels were stuck in a mud pit.

"This damn road, this damn rain, everything in this lousy place is working against us, it's fucking awful!"

A strong hand gripped the back edge of the carriage, then pulled and pushed it forward forcefully. Accompanied by the whip lashing the horse's rear, the immense force combined to propel the heavy carriage out of the mud pit with a loud crash, splashing up countless clumps of mud as it continued forward.

"There probably won't be anything good tonight. Maybe we should go deeper into the woods and search again?"

"Let it go. The team leader said not to cause any more trouble before we reach our destination. We need to keep a low profile as much as possible."

"Sigh, I really miss the good days of the past two days. We hadn't even had enough time to stay in the barracks we built there before we had to set off again in the rain, giving away the locals a free ride. I even thought about going to their village and asking them for some money."

"The leader is right. We're not going to keep dawdling. After all, we've taken the money, so we should keep our word... Anyway, we'll reach the next rest stop soon, so we'll talk about it then."

"But isn't our route a bit off-center? I was here three years ago, shouldn't we be resting in Princeton? Why does it seem like we're heading further south?"

"Who knows? Anyway, the entire eastern part of Salanod needs us. It doesn't matter where we go. Just listen to the commander."

Chapter 360 A Leap (1)

Fear is a strange thing; it exists to some extent in everyone's heart, like a black seed waiting to sprout. No one can say they are without fear. Even if someone does appear to be fearless, it's only because they can control their inner self and haven't encountered anything truly worthy of their fear.

This sentiment is undoubtedly beneficial to human development. It drives an individual to spontaneously stay away from potentially dangerous places and creatures that may threaten them, thus making it more likely to pass on their genes.

However, it can also cause huge obstacles at times, bringing terrible mental pressure, making it difficult to remain calm and composed, making it easier to make mistakes, and at other times making people shrink back and hesitate.

...So what was I afraid of that day?...

The imperial army's camp stretched out neatly and solemnly across the wide plain, firmly securing the key points of several major surrounding roads. The seemingly endless stockade walls were made entirely of thick, double-sharpened wooden stakes, sturdy and imposing. Even the fastest galloping warhorses would only crash into them and die, unable to cause the slightest disturbance.

Like a bustling town that suddenly appeared, the camp was teeming with people, warhorses neighing, and soldiers and auxiliary troops pulling carts or carrying supplies along the roads, as well as grooms and laborers. They would clear out the huge camp before dawn, thus ending the legion's several days of rest here and preparing for the upcoming advance and battle.

Coordinating them is an undeniably arduous task, requiring immense energy and considerable wisdom. This responsibility naturally fell to Talina, keeping her busy from last night until today, leading a large number of staff and officials to coordinate the operation of the entire legion.

Few in the entire army were able to stay idle. Even Carila personally dismantled her own barracks. Colin, on the other hand, received a somewhat delicate mission—to escort their prisoner, Alva, the daughter of the enemy legion commander, out of the area.

This was not a difficult task. Their prisoners had no strange intentions and were quite cooperative, having already packed everything up. All she needed to do was escort them away from this plain area, while the cavalry would continue to escort them for the rest of the journey.

Moreover, she does prefer things like going out without having to put in too much effort in her current state... at least this way she can calm down her anxious mind a little.

As he rode his warhorse through the camp gates into the plains, proceeding along the widest and flattest road, Colin couldn't help but think of the day the war ended... and a twisted, sharp, bitter, and angry feeling quickly arose in his heart.

Karila was always so frank and direct, never hiding her feelings. So she would do whatever she thought of and speak her mind when she wanted something. That's why she could ride that tall black horse and also fall asleep in his tent when she was tired.

Talina is always reliable and reassuring. With her around, no matter how complicated the situation, there are no worries, allowing them to focus on the war and figure out how to defeat their enemies.

They won that great battle so beautifully and so thoroughly that everyone, despite being exhausted, still cheered and jumped for joy, proudly despising the fleeing enemy, and feeling proud of their achievements and victories... At that time, she dragged her tired body, filled with anxiety and anticipation, and rushed to the central army camp under some strong impulse.

At the time, she didn't even know why she had such an impulse. She was just anxiously searching for the other party's whereabouts after the bloody battle. After learning that the person was safe and sound, she had an irresistible urge to see him, to see Thesolius, to see him with her own eyes, and preferably to talk to him.

There was no problem at all; even the guards let her pass without any hindrance.

...But she ultimately didn't go there...After seeing Karila sleeping soundly in his bed and him draping his cloak over Talina, a strong sense of fear and bitterness immediately drove her away, causing her to hesitate for a moment, then bite her lip and turn away, choosing what could be described as a weak retreat.

Even now, she still doesn't understand what she was so afraid of back then, or why she panicked to that extent...

"call…………"

Colin let out a long sigh, stretched his shoulders, looked at the lush forest and the birds and animals around him, forced himself not to worry about gains and losses anymore, and tried to shift his attention to other things.

It's springtime, and although most of the winter chill has left, a small lingering twilight still remains, liking to strike unexpectedly at times, giving those who think they can rest easy and be carefree a taste of their own medicine.

The birds and beasts in the forest also take advantage of this season of rejuvenation to reproduce and grow their populations. In order to harvest in the forest for a long time, even the greediest hunters will release the mother animals and their cubs during this season. This is a common practice and a unique harmony.

When large herds of warhorses pass by on the road, the billowing dust and heavy hoofbeats always startle a flock of birds, causing rabbits and mountain rats to dart out of the grass in a panic. In the chaos, a vibrant scene of life bursting forth is created, with some even rushing headlong into the road in their confusion. Every now and then, a few unlucky ones are trampled to death by the horses' hooves, becoming nourishment for the land and other creatures in this season of revival.

At the end of the forest road, Colin reined in his horse and finally turned his gaze to their silent captive—the dark-skinned beauty, Alva.

The other party's silence even made her feel a little uncomfortable, as if she were walking alongside a wooden stake. Her entourage, on the other hand, were all on high alert, deeply vigilant and tense. Now that the group had stopped, they subconsciously pulled their warhorses closer together.

“Miss Alva, according to the orders I have received, I will temporarily take you here. They will continue to escort you on the rest of the journey, so please do not worry about your safety. The roads and plains around here have been thoroughly cleared by our army, and both bandits and remnants of the army will try to stay away from this area.”

As she spoke, out of a habit from her past as a hunter and warrior, she began to subconsciously scrutinize the other person with a sharp, inquisitive gaze.

She was undoubtedly a beauty, and even the most prejudiced person would find it hard to deny that. Whether it was her silky smooth skin, her lustrous, jet-black hair that shimmered with the sheen of satin, her delicate eyebrows, her swan-like long neck, her bright, deer-like, eagle-like eyes... every feature was perfectly proportioned, naturally captivating people.

Such an appearance, combined with the other person's silence at this moment, inexplicably revealed a strange melancholy. The longer the silence lasted, the more obvious this melancholy became, like a foggy morning with no sunlight.

"Thank you for your hospitality. We still have a long way to go, so we won't linger here any longer. Please return, Commander."

Colin nodded, finally withdrawing his scrutinizing gaze, and watched as the other person continued along the road until they disappeared from sight.

But beauty could not sway him, and that man never showed excessive mercy to enemies who had not submitted; he only displayed his ruthlessness and decisiveness.

...For some inexplicable reason, Colin found that his mood had indeed improved a bit, quite inexplicably...like sticking his head out from under the covers, he breathed a sigh of relief.

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

The man frowned, sighed as he looked at the twisted blade of the axe in his hand, and immediately tried to salvage it—trying to bend it back into place in a huge crack in the rock.

This is a subconscious action, reckless enough, but most of the time it will serve a purpose, at least to restore the blade of the axe to a straight edge, so as not to affect his efficiency in chopping.

But today, he encountered a small fraction of those outside the majority.

boom!

The quenched axe was hard enough, but because it was a battle axe, it wasn't as heavy as a lumberjack's axe. It couldn't withstand the man's sudden increase in force and broke off at the junction of the soft and hard steel, shattering into four or five pieces, which made him stagger.

One of the pieces even grazed his face, leaving a bloody scratch on his rough skin. Looking at the half-finished axe in his hand, he had no choice but to throw it away and instead prop a long pole from a nearby wooden stake over his shoulder.

He had even lost an axe on his trip, which made him spit in frustration. He then threw the long pole into a pile on the ground and began to tie it together with rope.

The man named Basur had a full beard covered in dew, and the fleas living there seemed to be unhappy about the change in environment. They would occasionally crawl out from between the hairs to show off, causing itching and dandruff, forcing him to stick his fingers in and catch these vicious and mischievous little creatures whenever he had the chance.

Once you catch them, these things with their soft shells bring a unique kind of fun... when they are crushed, they make a rather crisp sound, as crisp as two horseshoes clattering next to your ear, only much quieter.

This was a pretty good pastime for him... second only to drinking large amounts of beer and going to brothels to play with women—the latter was rare and cost money, while the former was readily available, free and unlimited, and those wicked little things never abandoned him, always able to be found, using their own lives to bring him that kind of sizzling pleasure.

A passing doctor once suggested that he wash his fur with a juice made from sage and mustard to get rid of fleas. He was surprised when the doctor refused, clearly indicating that he had never enjoyed such a rare pleasure. Compared to that, what did a little itching and blood matter? It wasn't even enough to disturb his sleep.

…………

The weight of the more than 20 wooden stakes, each as thick as a bowl, was not to be underestimated. Generally, it would take an animal to drag them away. However, Basur simply grabbed a rope from the ground, wrapped it around his shoulder, and turned to start walking.

The sounds of logging echoed throughout the surrounding forest, and mercenaries were chopping down logs of this size everywhere. However, no one else was as fast as Basur. He was the only one who quickly collected the logs and broke an axe, and now he was hurriedly dragging them down the mountain.

He didn't know what these things were for—they already had enough wooden frames for setting up tents and supports, and the damp wood wasn't suitable for burning, plus it was extremely heavy, so even if they got some, it would be almost useless.

But this was their commander's order, and Diyur never joked about such things. He always knew that what he asked them to do would have some effect, so they had no doubts and began cutting down stakes in the surrounding forests before they reached the border city.