Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

Diyul suddenly laughed out loud and slowly shook his head:

"You've lost your mind, haven't you? ... Don't forget, it's our local nobles who have set their sights on the Empire. I don't know what's gotten into them, thinking they can take a bite out of the Empire... So this time it's not a question of whether the Empire's appetite has been satisfied or whether they want to fight, but rather that someone else is going to attack them... Do you think this country can tolerate this? Do you think they can let this opportunity pass them by?"

“I had already thought it through before. We had nowhere to go from the moment we disembarked… No matter what those noble lords are doing, we have to find a way to survive. We're not going to die with them. Now that we have this opportunity to both live and eat meat, how can we let it go?”

"You always think too much about random things, making yourself overthink and unable to see things clearly... This was a decision made by many of us. If there were any other better path, do you think some of them would have gone off on their own? We were all forced into this situation, forced to come together. That's how it is, it's that simple."

"We're all just waiting for an opportunity, we're all fighting for survival, so we have to be ruthless and decisive. We can't hesitate, or we'll all be killed. Do you understand?..."

Chapter 371 Surrender (1)

The emperor's orders are not to be questioned. However, the emperor can be capricious in exercising his power, and everyone must tolerate this capriciousness. For example, Polilaya, already asleep, was woken up in the middle of the night by her attendants and rushed to the palace in a carriage. This kind of experience, which would drive an ordinary person mad, could only elicit a helpless sigh from her. After all, the emperor is the emperor, and such an emperor at that… With His Majesty's authority growing ever stronger, let alone a chief scholar like her, even an elderly man like Scripps would have to obediently get up.

But today, she became so engrossed in flipping through some ancient books that she worked until late into the night and had only just fallen asleep. She was extremely exhausted. Even with her servants repeatedly reminding her, she felt as if her eyelids were glued shut. She would often wake up suddenly when her head was drooping to a certain extent, suffering greatly and sighing incessantly.

The palace carriages were masterpieces crafted by skilled artisans, and the extremely smooth roads made the ride surprisingly comfortable. Ironically, this very smoothness made her drowsy. Just as it's difficult to fall asleep on a galloping horse, it's easy to doze off in a straw-covered carriage. The utter silence outside the window further eroded her willpower. Her head drooped so often that her gray hair became a tangled mess on her forehead, and sweat made her skin and hair stick together, creating an itchy sensation.

"Sir, have some of this. It will help clear your mind."

The waiter next to her had been fiddling around with something since earlier, but she was too sleepy to notice until a warm porcelain cup was handed to her. She then realized what was happening and instinctively reached out to take it. At the same time, an extremely cool and refreshing sweet aroma wafted into her nose.

"Hmm? What's this taste like?... Bohe?"

She uttered an extremely obscure word, a pronunciation that few in the empire knew, and it sounded like a baby's babbling.

"That's right. Lord Tersolius insisted on calling this herb 'bohe,' so His Majesty did not object. Now, a garden has been specially designated in the palace to grow this plant. It is now indispensable for the daily needs of the palace. The Grand Steward is even planning to designate another garden."

"...It does sound alright, though."

Perila couldn't help but chuckle. Before she had even taken a sip, she was already much more awake, and the drowsiness that had been bothering her had quietly dissipated by half.

This plant was brought by Talina, a scholar who rose to fame in the library. Originally growing in the southern region of the empire near Hols, it naturally possesses a sweet taste and provides a continuous cooling sensation in the mouth, making it extremely effective for treating fire poisoning. It quickly became popular throughout the capital... However, it had a very common name: Duck's Foot. The scholars originally planned to design a new name for this new plant according to the usual classification methods, but Elder Tersolius insisted on calling it Bohe. Thus, with the emperor's approval, this name was established.

No one knows why this invincible military genius of the empire is so insistent, but naturally no one would deliberately make things difficult for him... Moreover...

Thinking of this, she smiled again. But this time, her smile carried a hint of mockery.

...Perhaps the next time she sees Lord Tersolius, she will have to call him Your Majesty—this is something that is difficult for most people to notice, but not for her, a trusted close advisor of the emperor. Moreover, being an outsider, she can see things very clearly.

She drank the liquid in her cup, and the carriage finally entered the palace gates. Under the watchful eyes of the guards, and guided by the attendants, she passed through numerous corridors and doors, finally arriving at the wide corridor in front of the audience hall. Seeing the exquisitely carved sculptures and murals adorning the corridor with its golden brilliance, she couldn't help but be surprised again—she had thought she would be summoned directly to the emperor's bedchamber, but she hadn't expected to come here. It seemed that this matter was definitely not small, that His Majesty had taken it to such an extent.

Thinking about this, the chief scholar became even more serious and even began to secretly consider possible options.

She wasn't kept waiting long. Soon, the carved doors of the audience hall were pushed open, revealing a brightly lit hall filled with hundreds of expensive whale oil candles illuminating every corner. The emperor, dressed in a silk robe, hurriedly emerged from the back, surrounded by his maids, and immediately beckoned her over as soon as he sat down.

“Come here, my scholar.”

She keenly sensed the anxiety and confusion in the emperor's tone, narrowed her eyes slightly, and cautiously asked:

"Your Majesty, I will wait here."

The emperor nodded slightly:

"I must be tired from calling you over so late at night... but I really have some questions, and I think it would be better to let you analyze it for me rather than wait any longer."

At this point, Clautina paused, her expression becoming somewhat subtle, as if she too was hesitant and conflicted. But ultimately, she lowered her gaze slightly and began to speak:

"I had a nightmare."

Perila nodded gently:

"It must be quite strange."

The emperor laughed out loud, waved for his attendants to bring over a sturdy, carved, upholstered wooden chair:

"Sit down first. I was woken up in the middle of the night, not to stand here... As for my dream, it was really strange, strangely frightening."

"I've almost forgotten what it was like to fight to the death with someone last time... If there's a place in this world that's been abandoned by the gods, I think it's the place I saw..."

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Things went much more smoothly than expected. Or rather, these remnants of the army had lost the initial fighting spirit they had when they came from the south. The truly brave and unyielding ones had long since been reduced to mincemeat under the iron hooves of the enemy. The fact that they had managed to escape here meant that they were unlikely to resist an option that would allow them to live. Or perhaps they had already anticipated this option, but remained silent due to certain factors, not daring to speak up first. At this moment, it was as if they were simply going with the flow.

Samir knew that his remaining troops had long since given up on fighting. Since they didn't want to fight, he, as their commander, had no choice but to follow suit... Otherwise, forcing them would only cause the situation to collapse completely. Moreover, he really couldn't see any point in continuing the fight. These remaining troops were so fragile that they would crumble at the slightest touch, unable to even stand up, let alone face the elite Imperial Legion in this desperate situation.

Despite knowing that things would inevitably turn out this way, he was still somewhat unwilling and angry. In fact, intense shame burned in his heart like a raging fire... But fortunately, this unwillingness was extremely weak and was easily crushed by his reason and guilt. Now, he had no right to be a brave warrior, or rather, he had never been qualified in the first place.

The wound on my back started to throb again, as if someone had stuck a red-hot iron skewer into it. But since my back was covered in dead flesh, the pain, though burning, wasn't unbearable; it was just a constant, nagging pain, like insects gnawing or rats biting.

Life is always full of unpredictability. Just as he did not expect that an arrow would accurately pierce through his armor and enter his back, it was as if the arrow was mocking his incompetence and carelessness, leaving a shameful scar on his back.

I once heard a saying that a warrior's scars on his back meant he was wounded while fleeing, a mark of shame. A true warrior should only have scars on his front. At the time, I scoffed at this, considering it the nonsense of ignorant people. After all, the battlefield is ever-changing, and even the bravest soldier cannot guarantee he won't be injured from behind. It could be a stray arrow fired by enemy cavalry, a blade accidentally struck by a comrade pushing from behind, or even a blow taken when the formation is broken... Situations are ever-changing, how could it be so simple?

But now, he genuinely feels that the scar on his back is indeed a disgrace, a burning disgrace that leaves him no peace for even a moment.

This humiliation was something he could only swallow himself; it was the bitter fruit of his own failure, something he could only slowly chew and savor. The scars on his back would eventually heal and fade, but the scars in his heart would constantly burn within him, leaving him with lessons that ran deep in his bones.

No lesson can be more profound than this, enough to be remembered for a lifetime.

He will probably remember everything he sees today until his last breath.

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

First to arrive were large contingents of cavalry, each clad in gleaming armor, swaggering about arrogantly. Their eagle banners were still stained with black smoke and blood, clearly indicating that the fighting had been recent and they hadn't had time to repair their flags. Undeterred, they spurred their horses forward, kicking up clouds of dust like yellow dragons as they encircled the main army, a move that seemed almost defiant and utterly reckless… And they certainly had the confidence to do so, after all, their own cavalry had long been wiped out, leaving only a few dozen personal guards who had fled with their general. What could they possibly do against these remaining cavalrymen?

The other side made no attempt to conceal their intentions, openly flanking them from both sides. They quickly occupied the rear and flanks, ready to strike their weak points with the slightest movement. This also ensured that any remaining illusions in the minds of some were extinguished, preparing for the next move.

After all, although they were a group of defeated soldiers, they were still a group of defeated soldiers with armor and weapons. Any rational commander would not think that they could be easily controlled, and would not easily let down their guard until the last moment... Of course, they were not lacking in vigilance, but vigilance was nothing but powerlessness. They could only be slaughtered and hoped that the other party would go easy on them.

The ensuing army was even more disciplined and orderly, appearing from afar like an iron wall on the horizon. As time passed, it grew more concrete, more terrifying, and more imposing, with banners stretching as far as the eye could see and swords gleaming coldly. Their footsteps rolled in like thunder, repeatedly crushing past their ears, vibrating their eardrums, and shaking their hearts, slowly ripping fear from the deepest recesses of these defeated soldiers. Before the enemy's formation even reached within an arrow's reach, their ranks began to show signs of crumbling and disintegrating.

Given their current state of disarray, if a real battle were to break out, they would likely scatter in disarray, resulting in a mountain of corpses trampling each other...

Now that things had come to this, Samir finally sighed and fell silent.

Before long, a troop of armored cavalry halted and approached. Their horses were unarmored, each rider strong and tall, their coats smooth as silk in the sunlight, their muscles undulating beneath their skin like pythons, displaying a terrifying power. Each horse was a priceless treasure, and the riders were all full of vigor and confidence. Without hesitation, they charged straight into their formation, as if they knew they would make way… or rather, if they refused, they simply charged forward.

And so, without any hindrance, the cavalrymen came right up to him, and the leader made him realize with a start—wasn't he the messenger who came on the day the war started? ... But the situation was completely different now, which made him feel quite complicated, a mixture of emotions.

“My lord, I am acting on the orders of Commander Tesolius to invite you all to come and discuss the surrender. Please follow me immediately.”

Upon hearing this, no one moved; almost all eyes turned to Samir, who stood at the very front, until he let out a long sigh:

"Let's go, it's getting late."

The sun had lost its most intense heat, and a faint crimson glow appeared on the bright sky, but it wasn't quite sunset yet; it was already late. He then raised his whip and lightly lashed his warhorse's rump, allowing his gaze to slowly move forward.

As his warhorse slowly moved forward, the others exchanged glances and hurriedly followed, surrounded by this cavalry unit, heading towards the enemy's impenetrable formation, leaving their own troops behind. They ignored the sudden chaos that rose behind them and moved swiftly and decisively.

Today, no one is destined to bleed here anymore, which should be considered lucky, but someone still has to pay the price, although everyone has already accepted that price.

Chapter 372 Surrender (2)

A soldier with a complex expression raised his dark face, glanced at the setting sun, sighed, and then lowered his head to continue forward. He had already taken off his armor, neatly folded it, and held it in his arms, while his spears and swords were already placed among the piles of weapons beside him. At this moment, he had nothing but a cotton coat.

His boots had been completely worn out during his last escape, and now he used straw rope to barely tie the holes to his feet and continued to use them. Dust mixed with foot sweat accumulated between his toes, bringing a foul odor and discomfort. He could almost feel the wind blowing into his boots from the plains.

Ahead of him was a soldier he recognized, who, like him, had taken off his armor and was clutching it to his chest. A patch of his messy hair was missing from the back of his head—it had been scraped across his head by a sharp blade when he was being chased by cavalry, and the helmet he had lost while fleeing had caused him this pain… The saber was no longer particularly sharp after a period of fighting, and much of his hair had even been forcibly torn off his head.

This guy's luck was even widely known in the vicinity of their camp. After all, being caught by those cavalrymen meant that escaping was purely a matter of divine intervention, let alone someone like him who had been stabbed in the head and was actually unharmed.

But whether they are lucky or unlucky, their current situation is the same... They all have to endure that pitiful frustration and desolation, and surrender to the Empire in a defeat with no hope of victory. This will allow them to continue to live and avoid facing the enemy's terrible military might, but it will also come at a price.

His lord had long since died somewhere unknown, but his family was still able to pay the ransom... Of course, it would be even better if their Shah were willing to be generous, so they wouldn't have to linger here any longer and could go home sooner.

Those who are truly unlucky and unable to pay their ransom are said to be kept here by the Empire as laborers for three months to offset the amount they owe, and then they will be released back to their own countries... This sounds acceptable, after all, working for three months is perfectly manageable for these strong men.

But those among them who could afford the ransom were still busy preparing to pay... After all, anyone can say nice things, and who knows what fate awaited them if they really fell into the hands of the Empire? Perhaps they would be enslaved and driven to death...

The group moved forward slowly, and each step he took felt particularly heavy. He also felt pain in his stomach from time to time... This reminded him again of the slightly grayish meat strip he had eaten the night before. Who knows what was stuck to it?

Finally, after a long walk, it was his turn.

"By order of the Emperor and Commander, we will accept your surrender and disarm you, and you will be free from any fear for your life."

Before them stood a door made of dozens of spears bound together, their gleaming tips reflecting a blood-red light in the setting sun, like ominous thorns twisted and turned. All they had to do was walk under the door and place the armor in their hands on a small hill of armor plates piled up beside them.

They didn't know why the Imperials did this, and could only attribute it to their unique customs and habits... Fortunately, it wasn't a big deal, and they even made it in time for dinner.

But for some reason, after the other side pulled this stunt, they felt strangely much more at ease as they walked past. Their initial fear of being easily slaughtered by the Imperials if they laid down their weapons almost vanished... This peculiar sense of ritual played an exceptionally prominent role at this moment.

After all, such a thing implies that the other party has made some kind of commitment, which is much better than the fear brought about by the unknown without any words. At least it gives them a reason to convince themselves.

After all, many times, some things just need a reason.

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

Dinner wasn't great, but it wasn't bad either—a large pot of boiled wheat porridge with a little salt and oil. The portion wasn't enough to fill everyone up, but it wasn't enough to keep them constantly hungry either. It also wasn't enough to give them enough energy to do anything significant.

In general, feeding prisoners just the right amount of food—enough to keep them from starving but also to keep them from losing their spirits—effectively reduces management costs.

But this was enough to reassure most people, who quietly ate and slept in the camp where they had looted all the weapons, waiting for the next arrangements.

In the following days, more and more people who had fled returned. They also learned of the outcome and were naturally happy to no longer have to fight the Imperial army. Moreover, they simply couldn't stand the days of surviving and robbing in the nearby wilderness... You see, those damned Imperial cavalry patrolled the nearby roads every day, specifically chasing after them.

Since there's no need to fight anymore, there's naturally no need for them to flee. Although it's a bit embarrassing to come back like this, as long as they don't care too much, it'll pass. After all, they're just a bunch of defeated soldiers; how many of them really care about this?

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

"This is really interesting. Even those Westerners are starting to get restless... Do they really think we're so caught up in the chaos that they can take advantage of us?"

The letter, delivered by express courier, was now in Thesolius's hands, while reality had been put to rest. Only the slightly crumpled parchment faithfully fulfilled its duty under the lamplight.

Nathamus's account above is very simple, but he doesn't omit anything from the beginning or the end of the story, even mentioning the messenger he met on his hunting trip, and directly asking for his opinion.

Although it wasn't mentioned in the letter, based on his understanding of his brother, he guessed that his copy for the emperor was already on its way, but he was closer and thus received it first.

This is certainly no small matter; on a grander scale, it even concerns the safety of the entire empire. But upon closer examination, it seems absurd... After all, the Western nations have indeed fought many wars with the empire, but for them to easily breach the empire's many fortresses and threaten important regions is nothing short of wishful thinking.

Even assuming they actually succeeded, the time it would take would be enough for him to lead his army back, at which point he could easily deal with them like slaughtering pigs and sheep. From any perspective, it's a ridiculous plan fueled by wishful thinking.

If something is amiss, there must be something fishy going on. Western kings and nobles are not fools after all. They would not invest their strength and resources in a war that is destined to fail. Instead, they are all the type to act without expecting anything in return. The fact that they can give their full support means that there are enough benefits to make them take the risk.

And it was precisely at this moment that some of the mercenaries they had hired discovered the trickery, and when they realized they would be used as cannon fodder, they decisively defected, and thus made contact with the Empire... To be honest, this was quite a coincidence, a coincidence that was unbelievable.

But this coincidence is worth testing, because if successful, it could easily break through the defenses of the Kingdom of Salanod and completely extinguish the delusions of the Western nations.

As he pondered this, Thesolius slowly rubbed the edges of the parchment with his fingers until the supple paper twisted and fuzzed under his force, yet he remained doubtful.

He keenly realized that there was some force driving and connecting things behind the scenes; otherwise, how could those Western countries that were constantly at odds suddenly unite like this? You have to understand that the contradictions between them have never been small, so what could possibly bridge such contradictions?

They're not after the petty gains they're fighting over now; they're probably after something much bigger... I have some guesses about this, but I can't confirm them yet, and I need more intelligence to verify them.

"How is the infiltration of the West by our lackeys going?"