Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

The descent requires extra caution. The continuous rainy weather this season makes the grass and roads slippery, and one wrong step can result in a tumble. Some unlucky ones might even break their bones and have to ride in a carriage to make the journey.

When he returned to the camp and dumped the large bundle of logs on the ground, the people around him seemed to anticipate his arrival and jumped back a couple of steps, successfully avoiding the splashed mud. They also greeted him with some typical gestures and words, which he responded to without a care, while wiping his beard.

………………

In the upper right corner of the camp, there was a tent made of tarpaulin, slightly larger than the other tents. At this moment, the mercenary leader, Diyul, stood here, thoughtfully stroking his chin.

People gradually returned from the mountain, most of them in groups, dragging bundles of wood through the mud, eventually gathering at the huge pile of logs in the camp, until the sun began to set.

"At this rate, we should be finished by tomorrow afternoon... I wonder if this method will work. I hope that old Pete, that foul-mouthed bastard, won't screw us over..."

"You can rest assured about that. Although that old man is a bastard, he wouldn't dare to lie about this. He really did walk this path."

A bald head, glistening from the rain, emerged from the nearby tent, and Samor also looked up at the gloomy sky:

"Hopefully this rain won't stop in the next few days, otherwise we'll be in real trouble..."

Chapter 361 A Leap (2)

"I really don't know why they make us cut down these wooden stakes! We can't burn them, we can't use them, and they've made my back almost break."

The axe was driven deep into the root of a straight pine tree, but because the user lacked strength and the axe blade was too thin, it got stuck. He had to use a lot of effort, shaking it left and right and pulling it up and down, to barely pull it out. He almost fell to the ground. Finally, unable to suppress his confusion and resentment, he couldn't help but complain to his companion next to him.

His companion was in much better shape—the guy had broad, sturdy shoulders and arms, and although he wasn't tall, he looked very strong, which was indeed the case… The tree trunk in front of him, which was as thick as a thigh, had already been chiseled open, and was now being cut down from the other side, in preparation for felling the tree.

"You'd better stop dawdling, Dolores. Everyone has to bring back 10 today, and you're still halfway there. Stop complaining. The leader said he'd take us to get rich, so he definitely will. When has he ever lied to us? Besides, it's not like only our group does this."

With a loud crash, as the axe severed the last fiber of wood that could support the weight of the tree trunk, the towering trunk and its crown slammed heavily to the ground, scattering mud and debris. Some dry branches and leaves broke off and fell during the process.

"I just don't understand... The camp is already piled up like a mountain, every wagon is overflowing, what are we going to do with so much stuff? This would be enough to build a whole barracks, right? We're not going to have to rely on this to build our own barracks, are we?"

"It's not impossible. Don't you know what those gentlemen are like?"

"...Damn it, look at my bad luck."

He finally stopped complaining, picked up the axe in his hand and continued chopping at the tree trunk. Before long, he was covered in sweat, and when the damp, cold wind blew, he couldn't help but shiver.

"If I could earn more money this time, I could use it to build a house for my family, so that my son won't have to work as hard as I do, struggling to find food with an axe when he grows up..."

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

Stress is something invisible and intangible; often, only the person experiencing it can clearly feel its weight, and they become exhausted and anxious because of it.

The mercenaries could easily notice that their leader had been acting strangely lately. The better-tempered ones would just drink more alcohol in silence, while the worse-tempered ones would curse and swear at the drop of a hat, pacing back and forth as if their feet were on fire.

The only exception among them was Dijour. Even in the mercenary profession, which requires exceptional courage, boldness, and confidence, he was undoubtedly a top performer. Not only did he orchestrate this astonishing operation, but he also remained completely calm and collected before actually taking action, keeping the thousands of mercenary groups completely in the dark.

After a few days of getting to know each other, the other leaders were completely convinced of his abilities and would seek his advice first when encountering problems. Unbeknownst to them, Diyuer had become the leader of everyone, leading them to prepare to do something big, something that would allow them to transcend their class and embrace power and wealth.

Long ago, Diyul realized that he could not become a respectable person through his own efforts. Being a mercenary was always precarious, and one wrong move could cost him his life... In the worst case, an entire mercenary group could be wiped out, and the employer wouldn't even have to pay.

Every year, countless children from ordinary families join the ranks of mercenaries. A large portion of them bleed themselves dry on their very first job, and when they die, that's it; they leave nothing behind.

If they are lucky enough to survive one war after another and accumulate enough skills, they can become a decent old mercenary, at most joining a mercenary group and becoming its captain... until one day they are too old to fight anymore, and then die like dogs, living out their lives in a daze.

Even if they can earn more than ordinary people, very few of them can save up. After all, for mercenaries, if they die the next day, the money is useless. But now that they are enjoying themselves, they are truly enjoying themselves. Newcomers who have just joined will quickly learn to spend all the money they earn on alcohol and women, living for the moment until the day they grow old.

Such a life can be seen to its end at a glance, and there will be no change whatsoever... People like them can never have power, and can never become nobles... Of course, there will be exceptions, but they are so rare that he is too lazy to mention them.

A mercenary leader like him is generally at the limit for a commoner. Even military officers and captains earn far less than him, yet he is still forced into such a desperate situation by a king's order, and has no choice but to desperately try to make connections to survive.

Of course, the situation could have been even worse. If it weren't for the information that Rat gave them, they might have been sent to the East in a daze, only to realize they were being used as cannon fodder before being driven to the battlefield, where they would have died under the swords and hooves of the Imperials, and they wouldn't have had to pay the remaining commission.

In a way, Dijour even felt he should thank the King of Salanod—if it weren't for that damned red-haired butcher pushing him, he might never have had the guts to do such a thing, nor would he have ever had such an opportunity... or even realized he was capable of doing it.

He had long heard about the unique nature of the Empire—that commoners there could truly become nobles, as long as they could achieve enough merit and make enough contributions to their country. They could earn their own fortune with sword and blood, and it was not impossible for them to become one of the most powerful people in the country…

Of course, this is still a minority among the vast number of Imperial soldiers, but it is tempting enough—because it means hope, even if the hope is small, but it is real and achievable. It is a path that does not depend on bloodline or family, and can be paved through one's own efforts and bloodshed... That alone is enough.

Moreover, he had no other choice at all; now he had no choice but to take a gamble.

………………

Normally, he would never venture into such a ravine during this season... Low-lying areas like Salanod are prone to collapse and become filled with mud during the rainy season.

Even the most greedy hunter wouldn't venture here during this season, but he had to grit his teeth and continue along the almost indistinguishable paths, never daring to let go of the bushes beside him for a moment, lest he slip and tumble down the damp, muddy hillside.

To be absolutely certain, he removed all his armor, put on a patched black tunic, and carried a satchel wrapped in oilcloth—containing enough dry rations and wine for half a month. Thus he set off on his journey, trudging eastward along the barely discernible, rugged path through the mountains.

The mission he bore was so heavy, yet so captivating... Upon hearing his brother's plan, instead of falling into doubt and panic like others, he immediately became excited and completely immersed in the vision described by his brother... It was precisely for this reason that Diyul entrusted this task to him, because only he was the most trustworthy and the most foolproof.

He will traverse these mountains, reaching the lands of the empire, to find the most powerful general there, and present this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to him, who will certainly not refuse... After all, what soldier could refuse such an honor? Just as a hungry wolf would not refuse a piece of bloody, juicy meat falling in front of it.

And they will use this opportunity to soar to great heights, rising from lowly, penniless mercenaries to become true big shots! They will also possess glory, power, and status!

This alone was enough to make him risk his own life, and everyone else's life, to do this. After all, how could a person live a mediocre life? Dujur's brother, Blatche, believed this from the bottom of his heart and was prepared to face any difficulties and obstacles.

"Damn, I hope Old Pete doesn't screw me over... Is this really a safe route?"

But no matter how ambitious he was, looking at the almost 60-degree sloping mud slope in front of him, he still had deep doubts... especially since he could see the mud mixed with stones at the bottom of the valley that had been soaked by rainwater when he looked down.

But in the end, he dared not delay any longer. If the rain continued, there might not even be a path left, and then he would really be helpless.

"If I fall and die here, I swear, old Pete, I'll haunt you with this sword ass as a ghost..."

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

Old Pete was completely unaware of the curse someone had cast on him. In fact, he was currently panting and frantically scratching his head, trying to recall and think things through.

"To be honest, I took that route five years ago... I followed a guy who smuggled goods by hiding at checkpoints twice, but he was unlucky later. He got caught for something else while selling goods in the city, and within two days he was hanging on the gallows and swinging on a swing."

"I'm not sure about the exact route, but it's definitely passable, and as long as you're careful, you're not likely to fall and die. The guy who led me down this road was also driving a donkey, since he can't carry much by himself."

"It's just that this season is particularly dangerous. I guess a lot of the roads have been washed away by the rain, so we have to be more careful when walking."

Dijour sat opposite him, listening to him speak while scribbling on parchment—this kind of paper made from lambskin was incredibly expensive; just one sheet was enough to cover a person's daily food expenses. He wouldn't have used it if it weren't for something important.

And so it went, until old Pete was hoarse from talking and could think of nothing more to say, that he finally put down his pen.

He, as the leader of the group, was one of the few among the thousands of people here who could read and write, and he only knew the language and script of the Kingdom of Windeg—which he had learned when he was a young man apprenticing with a merchant. But in the end, he still chose this path of making a living with swords, so many things depended on his hand.

"Very good, what you said is quite useful. If this succeeds, you will definitely get a share of the benefits... But don't forget to keep your mouth shut. I only told you this because I know you are usually careful and cautious. Otherwise, if it leaks out, it will all be over, understand? If I find out even the slightest bit of information leaked from you... then I will have to skin you alive."

Old Pete nodded repeatedly, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and a deep-seated excitement, occasionally sticking out his dry, white tongue to lick his lips.

"I understand, boss. Of course I understand. Even if I, Old Pete, am useless, I still know how to do it to get more benefits. I guarantee that my tongue will be stiffer than a dead fish, and I absolutely won't be able to say a word!"

"You know it yourself, so be it. Rather than being forced to your death... we might as well seize this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Anyone who gets in our way, just cut their neck! Use their bones to help us stand on tiptoe. I don't care if they're a king or whatever!"

In the glow of the burning torch, Diyur, his face grim, slammed a sharp dagger hard onto the table, pinning the parchment firmly to it and splitting a thin, winding line in two.

………………

The sharp knife sliced ​​along the edge of the swollen wound, shaving off the white, rotting flesh. In the process, it kept digging deeper into the wound until the bright red healthy part was exposed, then stopped with satisfaction. The ointment was then carefully wrapped in burlap to promote wound healing and keep out dirt.

This is not an easy process for these people. In fact, swollen wounds are often more sensitive and more likely to cause severe pain. Treating the necrotic tissue in such wounds can be excruciating. Doctors often need to put a stick soaked in saline solution into the patient's mouth to prevent them from biting their tongue.

After finishing all this, Samir, covered in sweat, finally caught his breath, tentatively moved his shoulders, and sat up with some difficulty.

This wound was caused by a stray arrow that had just pierced through the armor, leaving a small cut on the skin. However, within just a few days, it swelled and rotted rapidly, turning into the terrible condition that makes it difficult to move the shoulder, necessitating the removal of flesh to remove the decay.

This is something a general inevitably encounters. If his wound hadn't worsened, he wouldn't have focused so much energy on it. And now, the increasingly dire situation is constantly draining his attention...

Chapter 362 Desperate Situation (1)

Samir could clearly feel himself gradually weakening... It was a terrifying phenomenon that made him panic. He could clearly feel his limbs becoming weak and powerless, and his spirit was not as good as before. The fever from his wounds and the exhaustion that was surging through his body were troubling him.

He had not anticipated that a wound no wider than a fingernail would deteriorate to this extent, as if the gods themselves were casting a curse upon him in dissatisfaction with his failure. In just two days, it swelled and turned red like a camel's tongue, and then, like a parasite, drained his strength and energy.

It was precisely because the change happened so quickly and rapidly that he, who had been unable to spare the time before, was only able to summon a doctor to cut away the rotten flesh from the wound with a sharp blade and then apply ointment.

"My lord, we are short of the medicinal herbs we need. Most of them were left behind in the forward camp during the evacuation... It was too chaotic at the time. Some people even rushed into our camp to rob and kill... Fortunately, your guards arrived in time and scattered them. Otherwise, we would most likely not have been able to escape."

"...It's alright, just do your best."

"As ordered."

………………

The physicians accepted the order and withdrew, leaving behind the prepared medicine and ointment before they left, instructing the guards and servants to change the medicine and drink it on time every day. At this moment, Samir's upper body was only wrapped in white bandages, and his face was full of suppressed exhaustion as he lay on the soft fur cushion.

This little bit of leisure is an extreme luxury; it won't be long before his duties drive him back to doing those seemingly endless tasks that keep popping up one after another.

In the face of utter defeat, how could anyone escape unscathed? Although he had begun preparations long before the collapse, when the moment actually arrived, he realized that everything he had done was still far from enough... The collapse and chaos swept across the entire army like a storm, tearing his troops to pieces and scattering them in all directions.

All the noble status and military organization became meaningless at that moment. Generals and soldiers fled in panic, and officers and servants were equally disoriented. Fully armed elite soldiers, in order to escape the battlefield, mercilessly used swords and axes to cut down their colleagues who stood in their way. Panicked nobles, in order to open a passage, did not hesitate to order their guards to charge their own people.

The long battles and attrition before were not as tragic as that moment. In that true chaos and despair, life was something lower and more worthless than grass. It was cut down piece by piece by the blade of death. Steel and flesh clung together and shattered into a mess. Flags were trampled and crushed like garbage by countless feet.

The Imperial cavalry followed mercilessly, trampling and ravaging every group that managed to form a cohesive unit. They instilled fear into the hearts of the enemy with bloodthirsty laughter and swords, causing the chaos to grow ever stronger, more rampant, and more unstoppable.

Once a nobleman or general attempts to organize soldiers to resist, they will immediately suffer annihilation—those iron torrents, their silver armor smeared with blood, pace like lions on the edge of the battlefield. Once they find an opponent worthy of their attention, they will immediately surge forth unstoppably, trampling and crushing the resisters into a pile of mangled flesh, driving them to extinguish their courage and continue their hasty escape.

He even witnessed firsthand how elite soldiers clad in iron armor were chased like rabbits by Imperial cavalry, only to have their heads easily smashed by the enemy's iron clubs when they were exhausted... whereas they could have easily driven away and killed the enemy when they were fighting in formation.

In the vortex of collapse and escape, countless people were trampled to death, and countless others were taken by steel blades thrusting and smashing from behind... He only knew that in the past few days, he had only managed to gather about 8000 remnants of the defeated army, and they were a mixed bag, with the vast majority of the elite troops having been completely wiped out on that battlefield.

When he led 5 troops to meet the enemy that day, he was already pessimistic and lamented the uncertainty of his future. However, he did not expect that they would lose so thoroughly and so tragically. The battle alone wiped out most of their elite troops, and these remaining remnants were simply no match for the imperial army's attack.

In fact, keeping them under his command has already exhausted Samir's energy, and the situation is constantly deteriorating. Every day, people are deserting on their own, and the number of troops he can control is constantly decreasing... Just a few days ago, he even had about 10,000 men under his command.

The despair of the situation had left him no time to think about anything else. He didn't even know whether his nobles and generals had fled or died there. No one could say for sure. After all, in that desperate situation where the mountains were collapsing and the earth was cracking and mud and sand were flying everywhere, even a lord's life was no more precious than a soldier's. He would also scream and die under the sword and axe. Their rights would also be put to a terrible test in such a desperate situation.

Everything he did was a desperate struggle, the last gasp of a commander who had just suffered a crushing defeat and was unwilling to give up his duty... Samir realized this clearly and painfully, but still forced himself to grab on like a drowning man.

Now, there's nothing he can do to turn the tide... From the moment his legion began to split, he had already foreseen this tragic end... It can only be said that no one can control the capriciousness of fate. All he could do was try his best to preserve the last bit of his army's bloodline, stubbornly and ridiculously refusing to accept his fate of annihilation.

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

But his brief respite from sleep ended even shorter than he had anticipated. Before he could even regulate his breathing, hurried footsteps approached from outside, pounding loudly on the wooden floor.

None of the guards wanted to disturb the general who was working tirelessly for the country, but the message from the visitor was far too important, so someone quickly opened the door and delivered the message to Samir's ears.

Even though his body was being tormented by fever and pain, at this moment, upon hearing the news, this tormented man suddenly jumped out of his bed, as if bitten on the ankle by a venomous snake, something vibrant and surging flowing in his eyes.

"You mean my daughter..."

“That’s right, sir. Miss Alva has returned to us with her entourage, escorted by Imperial cavalry… The Imperial commander released them.”

"call…………"

With extremely complex emotions, Samir let out a long sigh, but ultimately forced himself to pull himself together, grabbed the blood-stained lining from the side, and put it on.

"Help me up and let my daughter wait for me in the central command tent."