Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

He could only speak weakly, while the eunuch repeated his words without hesitation:

"Disorder has broken out at the front! Your Majesty! The generals and nobles are awaiting your orders!!"

Chapter 476 The King's Head (2)

The atmosphere in the spacious hall was extremely oppressive. The servants didn't dare to breathe, and even the guards holding halberds had tense faces. The attendants carrying sliced ​​meat, wine, and fruit were all on edge, trying to suppress their pounding hearts as they walked, making sure their toes touched the ground lightly, afraid of making too much noise.

Those seated at the table were none other than the most important figures present... the kingdom's logistics chief, involved in almost all of the country's internal affairs, General Aisa who led troops from other countries to provide support, Duke Fose who commanded the kingdom's army—also the king's brother and confidant... and finally, several mercenary brokers who maintained a significant portion of the mercenary force, whom even the king had to treat with caution.

At this moment, despite the table piled high with delicious food, the chilled wine still emitting a chill, and the pleasant, dry weather... everyone's face looked extremely worried, their brows never relaxed, some sighing, some drooping their lips, some silently tugging at their beards, all looking as if the sky had fallen.

In fact, it was pretty much the case for them... The unexpected situation was much worse than they had imagined—not only was the first line of defense breached, but it was breached quite thoroughly and quickly, and the troops suffered heavy losses during the retreat... Some were slaughtered in the frontal battle, and others were torn to shreds by those elusive light cavalry.

The enemy's offensive was as fierce and precise as swords piercing the heart. They exploited many weaknesses the enemy hadn't even noticed, driving their pack and legions to turn the area into a burning hell. The soldiers, long deprived of pay and already demoralized and filled with resentment, were caught completely off guard by this surprise attack and suffered a crushing defeat. Their previously occupied territory shrank dramatically, almost forcing them back to the easternmost corner of the kingdom.

These weren't even the worst news... In fact, the worst was something they almost dared not say aloud—no one knew how Natamus had seized this opportunity so perfectly... It just so happened that they had finally managed to raise enough money to maintain the army, and it just so happened that they were about to distribute the soldiers' pay... With the defenses breached, facing those elusive and elite Imperial cavalry, most of the money that had been heavily guarded on the road was naturally looted, leaving them with probably only about 3 Vra at most.

The king originally intended to pay the soldiers enough compensation in one lump sum so that they could forget their previous grievances and fight hard... but now the money they could raise was probably only enough to sustain the army for about one or two months... and they still couldn't make up for the military pay they owed.

…………

The bad news was overwhelming, and if given a choice, no one would want to come here to face the inevitable wrath of that cruel king, but they had no choice—if a decision wasn't made soon, their army would likely scatter.

The soldiers, already shaken by the embezzlement of their pay, were dealt with by such a swift and merciless attack. Their morale was on the verge of collapse. Many had fled back to the rear without even engaging the imperial army in formal combat. Although they were forcibly gathered together by nobles and officers, they were in grave danger, as a terrible storm was brewing among them…

Such a complete collapse of the army would be terrifying and fatal for any general or regime. The slightest misstep could lead to terrible consequences... which would be a terrible disaster and a fatal mistake for any country.

If they don't resolve these issues, they might not even be nobles and generals tomorrow. The rioting army might drag them out of their tents and burn them alive... Such things have happened before. People caught in madness and anger are always incapable of thinking and unwilling to consider the consequences.

The logistics supervisor has distributed the remaining 30,000 Vla as planned, which has barely managed to calm the soldiers' emotions... But everyone knows that this is only temporary. This money is an unimaginable wealth in one person's hands, but if it is distributed among everyone in the army, it is just ordinary military pay, and it is not even enough to make up for the previous loss.

In the silent and oppressive wait, the aroma of food and wine wafted out, but no one was in the mood to even glance at these delicacies that ordinary people rarely see. Everyone was anxiously and worriedly making some kind of subconscious movements, with the sounds of fingers tapping on the table and toes patting the floor incessant.

"Where's the dog? Where did that dog go?! Find it for me!"

A familiar voice came from outside, but a strange unease arose in everyone's hearts, causing their expressions to change. Almost all of them subconsciously stood up. The mercenary brokers exchanged strange glances, leaned closer to each other, and whispered among themselves, wondering what had happened outside to cause such a crazy voice to come from outside.

Bang! — The sound of the door being kicked open, followed by the screech of armor as guards hurriedly dodged to the side. Yotsero, his red hair a mess like a bird's nest, his clothes buttoned up incorrectly, and one boot crookedly not touching the ground, appeared before them. He held a sword with a golden hilt and a ruby ​​pommel, its bright, mirror-like blade still stained with semi-solid crimson, clearly having just been ripped from flesh.

The king's eyes widened nervously, flashing with a chaotic and ferocious light. His sword was constantly swinging unconsciously, and in the instant he entered the door, it had already made several cuts in the magnificent rosewood door. The servants outside were trembling with fear, neither daring to go too far nor too close, each of them shaking like a frightened quail.

Clap!

The magnificent sword was thrown to the ground without hesitation, and the king turned around and pointed at the guards behind him:

"Go kill every single dog here! Yes! Every single one. And do it right now, especially those black-haired, mangy, lame bastards!"

After doing all that, he turned back without hesitation and walked to the table with a gait that seemed to crush every ant, his expression finally returning to calm.

"Your Majesty, are you safe and sound?"

The king's logistics chief spoke first, and Yotesero nodded without hesitation:

“Of course, my friend, I’ve just figured something out, something I should have figured out a long time ago…” The king’s brow twitched rapidly, his entire body almost clenching his teeth. “I’ve already run out of options. If I continue to defend, those lads will skin us alive… I don’t have that much money to squander anymore, and if I hesitate any longer, I might not even have this opportunity again—”

"I've made up my mind. We'll fight the Empire to the death right now! Those treacherous guys are definitely not going to send reinforcements. We only have the strength for one last gamble."

Everyone looked at each other, confusion and shock brewing in their eyes. Finally, the logistics supervisor spoke first:

"But Your Majesty, we do not have enough funds to pay the army's continued fighting expenses..."

“Go tell them, go tell every single one of them…”

A fierce and eerie light gleamed in Yotserro's eyes:

“I will allow them to ‘collect independently’ until the end of this war, and each of them will get what they want.”

Chapter 477 The King's Head (3)

The torrential rain washed away almost every inch of land, turning it into a muddy mess. Only the well-maintained provincial roads of the empire remained operational, allowing the army to continue its normal operations. Countless scouts ventured deep into the surrounding area, covering several kilometers, conducting reconnaissance and exchanging intelligence in small teams and squads. The continuous sound of hooves was like a spring thunderstorm.

The soldiers trod the still-dampened stone path, advancing calmly within the newly identified safe zone. The gleam of their spears rippled like the rice seedlings in a field, and the clanging of their shields and swords was so dense it was difficult to distinguish, like a swarm of bees vibrating their wings.

Marching in such weather wouldn't stir up too much dust, but the commotion wouldn't be small either—wild beasts returning to their nests in the heavy rain were once again startled by the marching army. Their fur and wings shook off patches of dew from the branches and leaves, making all sorts of noises, and they quickly passed through the gaps. Every now and then, many wings would take off in the direction the army was advancing.

Tersolius's new mount is a warhorse with a variegated coat, also an expensive and powerful Passatrian horse, though smaller than Moss. It has large patches of brown and yellow spots interspersed among white, and its mane and tail are beautiful gold. Although the colors are bright, they do not appear cluttered or disordered. It is also a dragon steed carefully selected from a large number of its kind.

This big guy was relatively mild-mannered, so it only took Tersolius about half a day to become completely familiar with him. Now he could control him with ease, and even make him change his direction and position on the road at extremely small angles.

After two extremely subtle accelerations, he arrived next to Colin, who was riding an ordinary warhorse. The girl had completely returned to her former self, now wearing a silver chainmail, a greatsword at her waist, a longbow on her back, and an eight-petaled gilded visor at her waist. She was casually urging her warhorse to trot with the spurs.

Upon hearing the sudden, heavy, and rapid sound of hooves beside her, the girl visibly twitched her ears and instinctively shrank her head, as if trying to avoid something. However, she then forced herself to keep her head tilted back, though her subconscious tugging at the reins revealed that she was not entirely at peace.

The sudden and rough tug immediately displeased the warhorse, which raised its head high and began to breathe heavily. However, it was quickly calmed down – a large hand reached out from the side and gently patted the warhorse's forehead, stroking it twice, which immediately calmed the trained warhorse back to its forward posture.

"Didn't you say you had something to tell me?"

Without hesitation or pause, with a sense of naturalness and directness, Thesolius did not turn his face away but stared straight ahead, urging his warhorse to maintain an absolutely equal speed, neither too fast nor too slow, while keeping his body parallel to the girl beside him.

Colin's face showed a slight panic for a moment, which was then forcibly suppressed, but the surging blood flow could not be concealed, making certain signs quite conspicuous.

"...I...used to have it, but now I don't."

"Hmm... what do you mean?"

Tersolius turned his head with some confusion. Scouts were constantly relaying the information they had gathered, and he was multitasking, processing the information and making judgments one after another... Of course, there was nothing to judge at the moment. The intelligence that was being sent back was basically normal, and no one from any of the squads had gone missing. The enemy scouts had indeed been spotted, but there had been virtually no engagements; they almost all ran away as soon as they saw them.

The intelligence that can be obtained under such circumstances is naturally very monotonous, containing little valuable information, and therefore does not occupy much of his attention.

"...Of course...of course you've already agreed! — So I have nothing to say..."

"Huh? What did I promise?"

A slightly malicious smile curled at the corner of his mouth, but it was fleeting and extremely subtle. Tersolius continued to ask questions, while calmly and naturally continuing to issue orders to the scouts beside him.

"It's...it's that one!" Colin's face flushed slightly, fear still urging her to back down, but the girl kicked it hard without hesitation, forcing herself to continue:

"Didn't you tell Karila about this...? So you must know what I mean by how I feel about you... Anyway, that's what I mean! Just like her... I won't leave easily!"

As she spoke, the girl grew somewhat anxious, seemingly feeling she hadn't expressed herself clearly enough. She bit her lower lip, took a few deep breaths, then turned and looked firmly into Tersolius's eyes:

"You wouldn't want to kick me out, would you?"

She was certain that her will had been accurately conveyed to the past, and then commanded herself to continue holding on until she received a definite response from the other party.

"of course not."

Thesolius stroked the horse's mane, feeling its rough and tough texture:

"If you're willing... but I hope you understand what that means."

"That's enough. That's all I want... As for all the other nonsense, I don't care—"

Colin could barely suppress the smile on his face, as if he had suddenly found gold in his pocket.

"But you absolutely mustn't go back on your word... otherwise... there's nothing I can do, after all, I'm just a wild and whimsical girl."

A long, strong hand covered the girl's golden hair. Tersolius mischievously ruffled it a couple of times, causing the once neat hair to stand on end. A gasp of surprise and a soft murmur of complaint rang out, abruptly interrupting a sense of unease and fear.

"At least she's a cute tomboy...and a trustworthy girl."

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

Turias silently watched the two flies on the tent before him—one with a black body and brown eyes, and the other much larger than its companion, with a metallic green body and green compound eyes that almost filled its entire head. But they were both working together to stick out their mouths and lick a piece of brownish residue left on the tent, reluctant to let go of the lingering smell.

He knew what it was—a drop of dried blood, still retaining a sweet, metallic smell, attracting mosquitoes, and even attracting a lot of flies to him, the nasty creatures buzzing around his head, landing on his sweaty spot and moving their limbs, bringing an itchy sensation... just as if he were a rotting corpse.

Unlike his inexplicably low mood, the others were overjoyed, and the reason was simple—they had received unexpected support. The northern Kiel had sent tens of thousands of cavalrymen. Although their equipment was generally poor, they were all archers who had grown up on horseback and had mobility far exceeding that of ordinary soldiers. The arrival of such a force immediately increased his chances of victory.

In order to prevent these northern barbarians from dying too quickly in the upcoming war and becoming unfit cannon fodder, they generously provided a batch of weaponry. Although it consisted only of light chainmail and helmets, it was enough to provide most of the Kiel with usable protection... and for the amount they had, it was only a small sum of money.

The empire's land was so vast and rich that even these rebels, who only controlled a portion of it, possessed a considerable stockpile of weapons.

Although he had already made up his mind, he was still uneasy about providing the armor to those barbarians... but the others were dismissive of this idea—after all, although they had been given armor provided by the Empire, compared to the elite legions, it was just auxiliary equipment. Moreover, in the upcoming war, these Kiel people would be driven to the front lines... it was still unknown how many of them would survive.

Of course, the best outcome for them would be for General Tersolius to die and his army to be wiped out before the last barbarian dies, leaving no way to verify anything, so that they could enjoy the fruits of victory at their leisure.

Chapter 478 The King's Head (4)

Steam rose from the simmering mutton in the pot, and burly men gathered around the campfire, waiting. The aroma of the cooked meat gradually wafted out, but because there weren't many seasonings, the gamey smell was still quite strong. However, for these Kiel people with their hair braided at the back of their heads, this smell was already familiar and beloved. Even the murky broth, still covered in blood foam, tasted delicious and warm. Some people couldn't wait to use short knives to stab the meat out of the pot and eat it. In the wooden bowls they carried, the cheese, which had been poured over it by the hot broth, was gradually softening.

This is the traditional diet of the northern nomadic people. However, in this place thousands of miles away from their homeland, they do not eat dried mutton, but tender meat freshly slaughtered from lambs... The source is also very simple. The nearby villages have long been disturbed by them, but because this country has left too deep a shadow in their hearts, no one dares to rob them directly. Most of them use a little sneaky trick, riding fast horses to steal and then leaving immediately. Even if the villagers want to chase them, they can't catch up. Those who are more cautious will take action when it is dark.

Tens of thousands of Kilian are swarming like locusts, devouring the order of this region. They are still wary and dare not be too reckless. But this restraint and fear are rapidly eroding... After all, when they discover that they can roam freely in such a rich region without any army coming to intercept them, who can control their ambition? It's only a matter of time before they truly cross the line into murder and arson.

The disheveled boy squinted as he tore at the mutton in his mouth. His sheepskin robe was greasy and shiny, with obvious black scratches on the cuffs and collar. Because of the hot climate, he had pulled it down to his waist. Apart from his muscular, scarred, and filthy upper body, he clearly hadn't bathed much. His entire outfit looked shabby, except for a very beautiful horn bow in the scabbard at his waist. The lacquered cover was painted with gold patterns, and the bow tip was attached to a sturdy ram's horn, making it look out of place with his whole outfit.

Such a fine bow naturally commands a high price and has attracted the covetous eyes of many so-called members of his own clan. However, the young man decisively demonstrated his abilities by slitting the throats of two men, and so naturally, no one bothered him afterward...

After all, while a good bow is nice, it's not worth taking the risk at this critical juncture... Once the battle really begins, there will be plenty of opportunities. After all, a person dying on the battlefield is as insignificant as a stone thrown into a lake; who cares whether the arrow that killed him came from the front or the back?

Almost all the Kiel people who came here were full of confidence. They believed that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to finally leave the bitter, cold land in the north, taking advantage of the fact that this terrible southern country was divided.

Coming to a warm and prosperous place to live a good life, where one can plunder wealth and conquer land without restraint, and with the help of the imperial rebels—where else in the world can one find such a good deal for free? So almost every tribe responded to their Khan's call. The more than 10,000 people here are just an advance force. The rest of them did not not want to come, but were blocked there by the border legions—the imperial rebels also seemed to have concerns, only allowing more than 10,000 of them to enter the heart of the empire.

But Cherdoy was different from them. Although he was also a Kiel, the Khan he served was not Khedora. And his purpose for coming here was completely different from the others, even shocking. If he revealed even the slightest bit of it, it was not impossible for him to be skinned alive by the people around him. So he didn't even dare to sleep with them. Instead, he would secretly find a secluded corner by himself.

He feared that his sleep-talking might ruin the Khan's plans, so he never dared to be careless since he came from the north... But even a tough and ruthless man like him couldn't help but feel terrified by the orders he had received—Tori could no longer tolerate Blackdra's delusion of using them, the Kurists, as cannon fodder, and ordered him, the most clever and capable lad, to sneak into the Empire with the main force and then find an opportunity to contact the Empire's general... preferably that Tesolius.

Hei Tuoluo Khan thought that the chaos in the empire would provide an opportunity, so he sent most of his tribes to the southern border... Of course, he wouldn't be foolish enough to leave the Kurist people in the rear to cause trouble, so he sent Toridu and his tribe out early on.

It is conceivable that once a full-scale war breaks out, the Kurist people, who have barely managed to preserve their bloodline, will be quickly ground to dust in the meat grinder-like battlefield... They fled from the east, and the Kiel people have never regarded them as their own people, only wanting to drive them away, use them, and plunder them from beginning to end.

But this is also a valuable opportunity that Toritu cannot ignore. The army has been sent to the south, which means that the heartland of the Kiel people is very vulnerable... As long as he can seize this opportunity, it is still unknown who will be the master of the north.

Of course, all of this is predicated on him being able to gain the support of the Empire and draw the main forces of the Black Tortoise to the south, leaving them no time to look north. Only then would he have the opportunity to seize this chance.

The Kiel people around the campfire were also in high spirits while eating mutton. Some of them pulled out a small drum made of deer skin from somewhere, while others found an instrument that looked like a sliced ​​gourd from their saddles. They began to pluck the strings made of sheep intestines with their fingers to the beat of the drum, producing a melodious yet rugged tune.

The others gathered together and began to sing along as the instruments played, swaying their heads rhythmically. Their voices were rough and loud, with a strong penetrating power. They weren't particularly beautiful, but they had a distinctive quality that made them unforgettable after just one listen. They contained a kind of loneliness that was hard to shake off and also had the power to penetrate people's hearts, just like the sorrowful and lingering howl of wolves at the moon.

Using his teeth, he forcefully pulled the strips of meat wrapped around the bone, chewing them along with the broth. The boy squinted as he listened to the familiar song, but his thoughts were completely unrelated to the present... In fact, if these singing guys knew what he was thinking, he suspected he might be thrown into the fire right now.

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

"Whoa—!"

The raging warhorse was reined in and reared up on its hind legs, then slammed down under the rider's control. Its massive body leaped across the ground with surprising agility, trampling the muddy ground into a mess and splashing countless drops of red liquid.

The source of the liquid was quite obvious—three heads hanging on the saddles, their faces pale, stiff, and filled with fear, with drops of blood still dripping from the severed necks, soaking the warhorses' coats. This was also the source of the warhorses' unexpected rage.

The knight dismounted, calmed his mount once more, then removed the three heads and went to the military officers to record his merits with a look of triumphant joy on his face... And there were many like him, even those who had to queue up in front of this tent.