Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

In that instant, he almost collapsed to the ground, thinking that the emperor had indeed obtained the relevant evidence and was about to behead him in the garden.

Fortunately, everything turned out alright, and he returned alive... The moment he left the garden gate, he forced himself not to run forward with an almost superhuman willpower, forcing himself to walk out slowly at the most steady pace, until he got into the carriage, and then he began to drink heavily.

His heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to jump out of his throat. His face was pale and he was covered in sweat. He didn't even notice that the bottle in his hand was empty. He was still subconsciously making the motion of pouring wine and subconsciously gulping air into his mouth. His mind was a mess, as if a swarm of wasps had been stuffed into it, each with its own thoughts and each one running around in all directions.

The carriage made little noise as it passed through the streets. The roads in the imperial capital were as smooth as ever, and each block had its own officials responsible for maintenance. But because of this, with the silk curtains drawn, he had no idea where the carriage was and could only make a rough judgment based on the time.

He finally breathed a sigh of relief when the carriage came to a complete stop. After waiting for a while, he heard knocking on the carriage from outside.

He cautiously pushed open the carriage door, jumped down, and walked forward with his head down. The surrounding area had been cleared out, and there was no one there except for the soldiers of the garrison.

They passed through the gates without stopping for even a second in the courtyard. They walked through the garden, around the pond and fountain, and entered the luxurious mansion decorated with marble.

The moment he entered, he took two steps forward and sat down in a chair in the center of the hall. Before he could even catch his breath, he waved everyone away, leaving only a servant to pour him wine.

The bottle of wine he had just drunk was barely enough to quench his thirst; now was the time to truly enjoy the wine.

The wine flowed from the bottle into the golden glass, but it was not the blood red color commonly seen in wine. Instead, it was a clear and beautiful sky blue, with an indescribable psychedelic feel. If you looked closely, you could even see some thin mist drifting from the liquid and resting on the rim of the glass.

The color of this glass of wine was so striking that one might even doubt whether it was truly wine at all… But Turias accepted it without hesitation, tilted his head back, and took a sip. Before he even put the glass down, he turned and leisurely began to speak:

"His Majesty has begun to doubt me."

The servant pouring his wine trembled slightly, but quickly regained his composure and continued standing to the side, only his mouth moving slightly.

"The imperial capital is indeed not to be underestimated. We only made contact with you a few months ago, and we didn't expect that His Majesty the Emperor had already noticed something amiss... So what is your decision?"

Another glass of wine was gulped down. The man swallowed hard, his face grim, and after a long while, he looked up at the beautiful mosaic glass.

"We can't wait any longer, we must start immediately! Any delay will lead to utter ruin, that's true for all of us... I hope you can make this clear."

"Understood." The servant pouring the wine nodded gently. "You are the last living son of Emperor Igulus, and for that alone, many people are willing to support you, as long as your resolve never wavers."

“Heh…” Turiars sneered. “What a bunch of loyal subjects…”

Another glass of wine went down, but it was like kerosene that ignited the flames in his heart, burning his internal organs with waves of pain, making it almost impossible for him to breathe... An indescribable pressure was tilting towards him, almost crushing him completely... Deep inside, a voice was frantically shouting at him, telling him not to do anything foolish.

But as the wildfire burned brighter and brighter, the sound grew fainter and fainter until it disappeared completely, leaving only his increasingly heavy and obvious heartbeat, which felt like it was about to tear his chest apart.

He had made the decision long ago. Before he had completely abandoned everything from the past, he had already kept something dangerous in his heart... and the conversation a few months ago was just watering the poisonous seed, which was bound to grow on its own.

Power is like seawater; the more you drink, the thirstier you become, and the more thirsty you are, the more you drink, even if it means leading yourself to your death.

He still vividly remembers the moment his mad father fell from the tower—the emperor's purple robe was stained with blood mist, its ornate patterns blurred by blood. As it fell through the air, it resembled a plucked bird, and then, like a water bag, it splattered everywhere on the ground. The magnificent robe that once represented supreme power was now like a tattered rag stuck to the ground and flesh.

How jubilant the Senate must have been! They celebrated overthrowing the tyrant and believed they could govern the country without an emperor… But just two short years later, they proved their greed, incompetence, and shortsightedness. They immediately began to fight and antagonize each other, like a pack of mad dogs drawn to fresh meat, tearing each other apart with blood and fur, making the vast empire unstable and almost on the verge of collapse.

In the end, they accepted the emperor that old dog Scripps brought... Now it seems they regret it quite a bit.

………………

He reached out and snatched the bottle, tilted his head back, and drank straight from it. Because his throat was too slow to swallow, the wine dripped from the corner of his mouth and soaked into his clothes, staining his silk robe with a light blue hue.

This was not enough to quench his thirst, and the fire burned even more fiercely.

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A fine whip should be woven from strips of cowhide of uniform thickness and toughness cut from a single piece of cowhide. It should be as flexible as a snake and as strong as a steel wire. When it is pulled out, the end should make a crisp sound, like a thunderclap on a clear day.

Ordinary people rarely needed such whips unless they had a horse for transportation, rather than a mule, donkey, or ox. For the craftsmen who produced these whips, their customers were mainly mercenaries and soldiers, especially cavalry, who always contributed the largest orders.

Sardis was intently using a blade with a locking mechanism to cut the leather to the width he needed. This finely treated leather was both soft and resilient, and it wasn't too stiff when cutting, allowing the blade to glide smoothly through.

When these leather strips are woven together to form a whip, he also needs to oil and tighten them with just the right amount of force to ensure that there are no gaps between each strip, so that it will not come loose or crack due to loss of moisture.

The handle of the whip is made of a shaved walnut wood covered with a thin layer of leather and wrapped with silver wire. Through skillful techniques, the silver wire is incorporated into the leather strip during the weaving process to ensure good control when wielding it.

The very end must be made of the toughest cowhide strips, and sometimes several strands of steel wire are woven into it – this is the very end where the force is transmitted, and it must be made durable.

Serdis was engrossed in his work until the dryness and pain in his eyes stopped him from staring at them any longer. He sighed, leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his eyes.

It was already late at night. Outside the window, among the weeds, crickets were chirping and showing off their skills, while fireflies danced on the tips of the grass, searching for their prey—usually large, plump, white snails, which would become completely paralyzed by the toxins of these luminous insects until they were sucked dry.

Performing such meticulous work by the light of an oil lamp on such a night was bound to put immense strain on his eyes, but Celdis needed to earn money to support himself, a reason so righteous and irrefutable that he had to overcome all difficulties.

The house is passable; at least it doesn't leak air or water. Although a lot of the paint on the inner walls has peeled off, and all sorts of insects are roaming the house, it's still quite comfortable to live in, as long as you ignore those flat, shelled creatures that crawl into your blankets.

Tonight is the last night. Tomorrow morning he will drive his mule-drawn cart to deliver the goods to town—a total of 100 whips. The money he earns will be enough for him to live comfortably for the rest of the year.

Finally, he reached out and grabbed the two topmost leather strips, pulling them twice. The squeaking and rubbing sounds and the oozing of oil seeping into the leather fibers were almost inaudible, but he was able to accurately judge the appropriate amount of force based on his experience... Novices often tear the leather at this step, which doesn't necessarily mean they've failed, but the final product will definitely be much less valuable.

Finally, he deftly finished the whip with his fingers, making the tip of the whip look like a beautiful tassel. He nodded in satisfaction, stretched the whole whip out to check it carefully to make sure there were no crooked or uncoordinated parts, and then coiled it up from the base and put it into the box next to him.

With a pang of heartache, she blew out the precious oil lamp, then covered it with a small shade to prevent mice or other insects from stealing the oil. She then groped her way to her bedside, lay down wearily, and pulled the blanket over herself without even taking off her clothes.

Exhausted, he soon began to snore softly. The only sounds in the room were the rats crawling under the bed and on the legs of the cabinets, and the sparse antennae of pests that liked to live in damp places.

The man was still in a dazed state, half asleep and half awake, when a series of hurried footsteps shattered his dream. Then, accompanied by rapid and fierce knocking, the wooden door of the courtyard outside began to shake violently.

After a while, the man finally came to his senses, stood up with a somewhat displeased expression, and prepared to open the door... But the moment he stepped out of the room, his hand had already reached a whip hanging behind the door, and with a nimble flick of his wrist, he hid it behind his waist.

The door was still being vandalized, but the intruder never uttered a sound or made any attempt to explain their purpose. They simply kept knocking, the rapid noise and the scraping of wood carrying far into the darkness. Apart from that, everything else in the night seemed quiet.

Serdis frowned cautiously... He had already realized that the situation was strange and not good...

Chapter 415 The Crucial Blow (1)

The whip in his hand was unlikely to cause much harm, but no one wanted to be lashed twice. He believed that this would drive away any malicious people… However, when he opened the door, he didn't see any vicious thugs or ferocious drunkards, only the town mayor staring at him, pale-faced, his lips trembling, unable to speak. He just kept banging on the door, even after it was open, one hand still slowly knocking in the air, as if he had been so frightened that he had lost the ability to think.

"Mr. Nanyat, what's wrong?"

Seeing a familiar face outside the door, he silently withdrew his hand from the whip, looking at the other person with some doubt. A sense of foreboding welled up within him, like seeing someone with a bruised and swollen face and suspecting there are wasps on the nearby branches. Seeing someone so terrified that they were numb and demented, he felt a chill run down his spine as well. Even the moonlight seemed unsafe, casting a frost-like glow on his skin, sending a cold shiver down his spine.

But the mayor didn't answer him, continuing to knock on the door like a fool. Frustrated, the mayor peered out, looking left and right but finding nothing amiss. Finally, he gritted his teeth, raised his hand, and slapped the mayor across the face.

"Snapped!!"

Despite deliberately holding back some of his strength, he was a hardworking craftsman with well-developed muscles in his hands. The blow immediately left several red marks on the other man's face, his head tilting slightly to one side, and his eyes regaining their clarity: "Ah!...Ah!—Right, Saldis! Quickly pack your things and run! Lautos and his family, who are logging in the forest, said they saw the army coming, hurry!!"

It was like a cold needle piercing his temple; his mind instantly cleared, his hands and feet began to tremble like the mayor's, his lips quivered and he couldn't speak, and cold sweat had already soaked through his hair in the blink of an eye.

"What are you standing there for? Sardis! Grab all the valuables, we're going to hide in the mountains to the west, everyone has to go, quick!"

The mayor, now sober, grabbed Saldis by the collar, shook him violently twice, and shoved him forward, sending him stumbling towards his house. He himself turned and rushed out the door. Meanwhile, he had organized many young men in the village to go door-to-door, but no lights were on… This was also to avoid attracting the attention of the army passing through the village. For the civilians, their only way to survive was to slip away quietly into the mountains before the army noticed them.

But how could such a sudden situation in the middle of the night be handled cleanly and efficiently? After all, the town was inhabited by ordinary artisans and civilians, far from possessing the exceptional organization of soldiers. Even if a group of people were notified in advance, they would always procrastinate, hesitate, and not want to give up anything, wanting to take everything, caught in a dilemma at home… This was a cruel reality for them. If they left too much at home and were looted, even if they returned home, they would be penniless. Who could bear to give up the life they had worked so hard to build? But if they continued to linger here, they might lose their lives and their possessions…

As night fell, chaos was spreading through the town, slowly and irresistibly destroying the order of the past.

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

The lumberjacks of Salanod would gather in small groups and then cut down trees in the forests under permission. Before completing a quarter's work, they would live in the forest, and it was because of this that they were able to witness that terrible sight—the army that lowered its flags, carried its horns, and marched in formation through the jungle.

Lautos is 56 years old this year, the kind of person who has one foot in the grave. In this era, to be able to live to this age without illness or disaster, and to be in relatively good health, and even to have raised three sons, is undoubtedly a lucky life... but not so lucky here, after all, having three sons means paying three times the taxes, which forced him to join the logging industry with his three sons at an early age to earn money as soon as possible to make a living, and even now he dares not let his sons get married, because that would require paying an additional marriage tax.

My only wish now is to save up enough money for my three sons so they can start their own families and build their own careers. That way, they can escape their current miserable situation and perhaps even accumulate a fortune like those respectable businessmen.

But now, he realizes that the future he once thought was promising is about to vanish...

The first to notice the anomaly was Collins, who lived on the very edge. His rented house was a makeshift shack—a pit dug in the ground, surrounded by a few wooden stakes, covered with vines, and topped with waterproof thatch. It was enough to make anyone live there, but in winter it would surely freeze to death. However, the weather had been just right for the past two days. It was he who noticed the anomaly coming from afar, which woke everyone up. They left their original camp, walked past the tree stumps they had cut down, and finally arrived at a dense beech forest on higher ground.

At first, some people complained, but after they also noticed the commotion in the distance, everyone shut up and huddled into the bushes in a fearful wait. They waited until dust rose at the horizon where the forest met the sky, and silver armor and red uniforms gleamed under the moon. An endless river of steel pressed down from the horizon.

They were all speechless with astonishment; if an insect had the chance, it might have even flown into their throats. But before they could even recover, the enormous, raging fire on the distant hillside completely shattered their last shred of reason—everyone living on this land knew exactly what that place was: the castle perched atop a small hill, teeming with soldiers, an extremely formidable stronghold. Its tall towers were gradually tilting and collapsing amidst the flames; even from miles away, they could see this scene.

The cavalrymen, their armor gleaming, surged forward in a massive column, leading the charge across the road. Their silver armor and red cloaks shone brightly against each other. Aside from the inevitable sounds of their horses galloping, their armor clashing, and their shouts, not a single person dared to whisper. Every single person, every animal, and every single thing in the army moved forward at breakneck speed, as if they existed solely for the purpose of advancing. Although occasional mishaps occurred due to the darkness of the night, these were quickly suppressed and resolved by their officers, ensuring that this vast army never ceased its advance.

They stared in disbelief at the scene, completely gripped by primal fear. For a moment, Lautos even felt that the army before him wasn't composed of living people... but rather a terrifying entity formed from the tangled and aggregated parts of some kind of inanimate matter. As they advanced, all he could see was destruction...

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

"You deserve credit, and it should be a significant one."

The raging flames illuminated half the sky, and the enemy who were still resisting inside finally suffered the most tragic fate. They were set ablaze along with the buildings by fire oil bombs. The horrifying screams carried far through the night sky, and even the roar of the flames could not drown them out. A nobleman with a deathly pale face was dragged by armored soldiers all the way from the other side of the hillside to this place. His feet, which were still wearing casual shoes, were covered in mud, and his soft, close-fitting silk pajamas were also covered in blood and weeds. He had almost become half a beggar.

The soldiers in this castle weren't some elite force known for their unwavering loyalty and strong will; they too were startled by the large army that appeared before them. Yet, they still believed that the castle, built on a strategically advantageous and easily defensible position, would help them achieve final victory, just as they had always done. Enemies besieging the castle often succumbed to prolonged sieges, dwindling food supplies, and declining morale, ultimately forced to retreat in desperation…

But this time, after they refused to surrender three times in a row, only burning oil bombs, like divine punishment, crashed down like meteors, instantly setting half the castle ablaze. Their already wavering morale collapsed completely. Only the count, in a panic, tried to escape through a secret passage, but he easily fell into the trap the cavalry had prepared in the mountainous area near the exit. He was tied to the horse like a fat pig and brought here.

Thus, the highland fortress, built at the cost of countless gold coins and 10 years of time, completely fell. The entire process took less time than a skilled cook could prepare a lunch.

A wry smile appeared on the face of the wizard captured in the northern mountains. The screams from the fire grew weaker and weaker, but each one was still jarring to him. Finally, he sighed.

"I am willing to serve you, sir, but there is no need for credit... To be honest, I did not expect your methods to be so... efficient."

Natamus, mounted on his warhorse, stood a few dozen meters away from the fire. He turned to look at the sorcerer, whose face was filled with bitterness. His hardened expression softened, and a smile appeared on his face.

"Hehe, I know you're not your average charlatan, otherwise you'd be showering me with compliments right now... To be honest, you seem overly kind and empathetic compared to your peers."

"Perhaps, perhaps that's why I'll never make as much money as some of them... But I still have some doubts, esteemed general."

“You can ask me questions, but only for a short time.” Natamus waved his hand, signaling the guards beside him to tie up the count and send him to the back. He didn’t even look at the man once, completely ignoring the man’s urgent and pleading eyes. “At least we have a lot to do tonight. We have very little time to rest or waste.”

"Ah... I hope you can forgive my offense. What I want to ask is why you ordered this castle to be set on fire? It is strategically located, controlling the transportation routes of several nearby territories, and its walls and towers are very sturdy. But now it has been burned down to more than half of its original size. The remaining ruins certainly won't serve their original purpose. Wouldn't it be more valuable to occupy this place?" The wizard's eyes gleamed with a strange light, and his cleanly shaved lips pursed slightly.

“You’re right about that. This castle is indeed valuable… but compared to our purpose, that value is negligible.”

Natamus looked up at the distant starry sky:

"Do you know where my legion's greatest advantage lies compared to the armies of the Western nations?"

"Discipline and organization—in that respect, they are far apart. There are differences in other areas as well, but not to this extent." The wizard had clearly considered this, so his answer was without hesitation.

"...You see things very clearly, but that's not quite accurate for the present moment. Our biggest advantage right now is that the enemy is in the open while we are in the dark. We have the initiative and the first move, while my enemy is completely unaware of it."

"War always requires preparation and mobilization, no matter where it takes place. Soldiers need to be gathered to repair their weapons and armor, receive rations and train, roads need to be planned and repaired, food needs to be stored and transported, and laborers and conscripts need to be mobilized from the fields... In short, there needs to be a reaction process, whether it's offense or defense. And now, our preparations are already complete, while they are completely unprepared. Therefore, we must seize the opportunity to crush their manpower, occupy their cities, and destroy their castles as quickly as possible. Before their army can truly react, I will have already achieved my goal."

"Try to guess what our army has accomplished by the time their king receives news of the attack here. How much land will the legion's iron hooves trample? What consequences will their main force's move to the east have? This is our greatest advantage, like stabbing the enemy in the heart before they can react. From then on, the tide will be turned, and we can proceed with ease. At that time, I will naturally adopt a more prudent tactic, but for now, I will not allow any castle to slow down the legion."

Chapter 416 The Crucial Blow (2)

How long does it take for a region to fall? The answer here is a week... In just one week, the southern border of the Kingdom of Salanod was completely destroyed. The imperial legions rampaged through the land, blasting one noble castle after another into pieces, burying the bodies of those nobles who refused to surrender in the earth and stones.

Caught completely off guard and unprepared, the lords' armies were utterly powerless against this swift offensive. Often, just as a territory received news of its neighbor's destruction, the imperial legions would appear on their horizon, unleashing new devastation upon them once more.

With the help of numerous transport vehicles and livestock, the iron torrent advanced rapidly, crushing everything in its path. Imperial banners spread across the land like flames, banners fluttered like a forest, and iron hooves rolled on. Leading this wave of destruction were tens of thousands of Imperial light cavalrymen who had been recalled from the south.

This was a decision made by Tersolius shortly after the war ended. Apart from leaving about 1000 cavalrymen as a precaution, he sent an entire legion of light cavalry to the north to support his brother's campaign. As it turned out, this arrangement was just right. It was precisely because he had a large cavalry force that Nathamus dared to use such fierce, sharp and aggressive tactics to spread the flames of war across this land in a short period of time.

King Jottheroh of Salanod had transferred most of his army to the east a few months earlier, believing he could seize a crucial opportunity to plunder vast territories, people, and wealth for his country. But now, he had been stabbed in the back without even realizing it.

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The city's steel gates and drawbridges were retracted in time, saving everyone's lives.