Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

The moonlight was obscured by dark clouds, casting large shadows on the once bright earth, allowing him to easily hide, like a cunning weasel preparing to slip away from a chicken coop...

Chapter 484 Battle (1)

He could barely breathe and instinctively reached out to pull at his neck, trying to ease the pressure. But in reality, his clothes were very loose and didn't hinder his movements at all. What was truly choking him was his heart.

He wasn't unfamiliar with war... but he had never experienced a war on such a large scale... The sheer scale of battles involving tens of thousands of people could turn a land into a hellish landscape was beyond his imagination, and he knew very well what a challenge from thousands of people would bring...

Badis was never a particularly brave man; he was simply cautious, careful, and clever enough to have survived to this day. Therefore, he never competed for dangerous and easy missions, but simply fulfilled his duties carefully, even though many of his comrades were eager for them... but he knew very well that many of them would not live to retirement like he did.

As the warhorse galloped along the road, it made a crisp, continuous sound of hooves—the sound of steel protecting its hooves colliding with stone. He firmly wedged his feet into the stirrups, lowered his head slightly in the oncoming wind, and hid his eyes behind the nose guard.

A great battle... Before the heavy infantry and cavalry even arrive at the battlefield, these scouts must explore the surrounding conditions of the battlefield and drive away the enemy's sentries. They often bleed before the main army and are an important step in paving the way for victory. No rational general would ignore them, which also means that he is now in an extremely dangerous situation.

After the group had traveled some distance, their captain raised his fist to signal everyone to stop, then dismounted and waved to him.

This is the edge of a jungle, where there are fewer dense trees obscuring the view, which also means that the traces left on the ground are clearer, and the footprints left in the soil have not yet been covered up.

He was a veteran here, and the best at tracking. While he identified the tracks, the others kept watch until they confirmed the direction before setting off again.

“Look at this… these are hoof prints left by the horses of the Kiel people.”

The captain brushed aside some fallen leaves, glanced at the scene briefly, and immediately drew a conclusion. After observing for a short while, he agreed with the captain's assessment.

"Yes, it really is them."

The hoof prints on the ground may not seem special at first glance, but upon closer inspection, one can see that the horseshoes of these warhorses are quite crudely made—even the edges are pitted and crooked, making one wonder if a piece of wrought iron was simply taken out of the furnace and nailed directly onto the hoof, without even much hammering.

This was thanks to the relatively meager craftsmanship of the Kiel people compared to the Empire… These northern nomads had been neighbors with the Empire for thousands of years and had never given up their covetousness for this rich land. Therefore, every emperor of the Empire naturally did not take them lightly. Not only did they strictly prohibit the export of metal minerals, but they also organized all the artisans of the Empire into a tight organization, registering them in the household register for generations, and strictly sealing off the borders to ensure that no advanced technology would fall into the hands of the surrounding barbarians.

This certainly wouldn't completely eliminate the situation, since there were certainly merchants willing to risk their lives for such business. However, it did effectively curb the skill level of the Kiel craftsmen. The scarcity of minerals in the north forced them to purchase iron ore from western countries or the Rigut people further north, making ironware there quite precious, and naturally, the craftsmen's work appeared rough.

Their own horseshoes were forged from high-quality steel, stamped with the production date and serial number. When stepped on, they left clear and distinct marks on the ground, so there was no need to worry about them being confused with the marks of the Kiel. They easily discerned a lot of information and determined that this was a typical raiding squad, composed of poorly equipped conscripted herders. Although they were swift in their actions, they could not compete with regular troops, and their numbers were generally around 10 to 25 people.

"How about it? Should we go after them? The heads of the Kiel are just as valuable as those of traitors."

Upon confirming this, the captain almost immediately became eager, raising his head to ask the others on guard around him... Although they only had 10 people, compared to these raiders, they were still well-equipped and well-trained. As long as they were careful, they would surely be able to make some gains, which was tempting.

But Badis hesitated... He didn't know whether he should cause trouble, and even instinctively opposed this approach... After all, their mission to scout this area had been completed, the enemy army was not far away, and the bloodshed and intensity of the battle between the two sides' scouts were no longer comparable to before. Rushing in would probably be quite risky.

But at the same time, he clearly saw the eager expressions on his companions' faces... Almost everyone was like that; their thirst for merit was the driving force that made them join the army. Once they seized an opportunity, how could they easily let it go? Besides, the hoofprints on the ground were still quite fresh. No matter how far they went, those guys probably couldn't have run more than two miles. If they wanted to chase, they could certainly catch up.

Moreover, he was well aware that besides worry and caution, there was also a certain impulse churning within him... Most of the family fortune he had accumulated in the past was gone, and he was already this age, no longer the kind of person who could slowly rebuild. His two children also needed his upbringing and support. If he wanted to make a comeback, he would have to make contributions and be rewarded... And these things would not be given to a cautious and timid guy.

He couldn't possibly get what he wanted without taking any risks. He couldn't be as cautious and cunning as before; that approach, while safe, was no longer an option for him.

Of course, he wouldn't really act like a reckless fool and rush in without any preparation... He never forgets what kind of person he is, nor what he is best at.

After a rapid internal struggle, the usually quick-witted and slick man nodded emphatically:

“I agree. We can give them a shot, but we can’t go too far, or they might get us all over us… And we can’t make it that simple. Let’s discuss this…”

………………

Cherdoy huddled in the grass, his eyes half-closed. An ant was crawling up his trouser leg when he pinched it to death, the splattering sap having a strange, sour taste that lingered on his fingers.

The boy impatiently dug two fingers into the soil and rubbed them a couple of times. His mind was no longer on the ground; he was thinking about how to escape. His mission was complete, so there was no need for him to stay in the Empire. This place was about to become a terrible battlefield, and staying here would mean certain death. And this seemed to be a good opportunity.

His eyes, as cunning as a wolf's, were scanning left and right at his so-called companions... These fellows, just like him, were quietly hidden in the forest on both sides of the road, skillfully maneuvering their horses to lie down in the grass, waiting for prey to pass by.

A simple plan—to lure Imperial reconnaissance forces by deliberately exposing traces, then ambush them from a hidden location and catch them off guard when they appear… Simple, yet effective enough. Luring the enemy deep into your territory is always an old but effective method, and people will always fall for it in the past, present, and future.

They might not have high hopes for this, like killing two birds with one stone, just a tentative idea, while Cheldoy had already glimpsed an opportunity in the scene... After all, sometimes the roles of hunter and prey can be reversed in the blink of an eye, can't they?

He quietly reached into the thick quiver, counting the arrows inside one by one, while his other hand supported his bow, stroking the base of the quiver, which looked like protruding bones...

Chapter 485 Battle (2)

It took him a while to realize that he had been smiling—he made an excuse to go ahead to scout and guard, then found a position he had calculated beforehand, and when the Imperial cavalry cautiously approached, he used an arrow that he deliberately missed to attract their attention, and then listened to the screams and cries of his squad as they were caught off guard by the enemy's attack from behind.

The attack happened in the blink of an eye and ended in the blink of an eye. The hunter became the prey in an instant, but some escaped. The rest had their heads cut off and their armor stripped off. He, on the other hand, had been hiding quietly among the branches and leaves of the tree canopy the whole time, and no one noticed him.

To the few survivors, it seemed they had been thwarted by a more cunning ambush by the Empire, and they had no idea that these enemies were deliberately lured there by the kid who said he was going to scout... After all, there was no reason for such a thing to happen. Why would a Kiel help an Empire reconnaissance squad for no reason? And he naturally became part of the dead or missing.

It wasn't impossible for him to escape directly from the main force, but it would be too abrupt and conspicuous... And what he needed least was to be conspicuous. He wished he could slip away silently like a mouse. And now was the perfect opportunity he had been waiting for, allowing him to leave the battlefield without any worries.

Even if there were the slightest possibility that one of those guys would notice something amiss... by then, it would be too late. His Khan, if he was destined to succeed, would already have; if he was destined to fail, there would be nothing more to say. Besides, it wasn't even certain they would return alive...

Almost every Kielman knew the name of Tesolius—ever since he began to rise in the Empire, they had never been able to venture south into that rich land. Every attempt to probe it was met with a bloody defeat and a desperate retreat. The great defeat that even cost the Khan his life resulted in heavy casualties among the able-bodied men of the tribe, with every household wailing in despair. Just hearing his name would terrify even the most unruly child, who would dare not cry out.

These guys thought they could use the power of the Imperial rebels to plunder the Imperial lands and avenge their past defeats, but they didn't realize that they were just being used as cannon fodder... Once the war started, they would be mercilessly driven to the bloodiest and most brutal steel lines, and forget about wealth, even keeping their lives would be a luxury.

Torrido had long considered the more than ten thousand people who had entered the empire as dead men—they had entered as a pledge of loyalty to help the rebels, but it also meant being imprisoned in a cage made up of fortified cities, mountains, and villages… He knew all too well what would happen in such a situation…

That mountain of corpses and sea of ​​blood was his eternal nightmare. Several times he would wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, still feeling lingering fear. That steel wall on which they had bled dry truly made him feel despair in an instant, as if a guillotine was hanging over his head, leaving him powerless.

The Khan did not believe that Tersolius would let these enemies who had stepped into his protected territory go unpunished, but this did indeed create a rare opportunity for him... He would have the best chance when the lions of the empire were tearing apart the wolves.

The task Cherdoy was tasked with was more important than he had imagined, even concerning the life and death of all of them... After all, they were just a group of defeated soldiers who had fled from the East. Although they still had courage, they were not strong enough. Whether they had this opportunity or not was the difference between success and failure, life and death.

…………

The Imperial cavalry had already departed, leaving behind only a ground littered with headless corpses. Even their horses had been taken away. Only now did Cherdoy gently leap down from the tree, whistle, and call his horse back from the distant forest. The saddle was already laden with the food he had been gathering over the past two days.

The food supply wasn't plentiful, but fortunately, he could supplement it by hunting along the way... To avoid areas with military outposts, he had to take a very remote route, going in a large circle, following the forests next to the Central Province... He just hoped he wouldn't get lost.

--------

The curved knife in his hand gleamed like autumn water. Despite being a murder weapon, it seemed to possess an inexplicable gentleness at this moment. As it was wiped with cloth, its sharpness became even more apparent, its cold light piercing.

Tori examined the knife in his hand, looking at the blade that had been with him since his youth, at its gentle curves and upturned tip, the brass guard and the gem-encrusted hilt, and the gold-inlaid pattern on the back of the blade.

This knife is always reliable. He doesn't know how many sturdy helmets, armor, and bones he has cleaved with it, but it has not broken yet and is still tough enough... just like his old dog, it can still be of some use.

Outside the tent, a fierce wind howled, and the sky was so dark it seemed about to collapse, causing the wooden stakes securing the tent to sway constantly in the gale. The thousands of Kurist people stationed here were waiting in their tents, each of them polishing their swords, maintaining their bows, and checking the condition of each arrow, just like their Khan.

One last light scrape on the blade with a fine whetstone, and then a leather rub to remove any small metal shavings—it doesn't need to be too sharp, just enough. Too sharp a blade will dull quickly, while blades that are about the same sharpness are more durable and last longer.

A tall, thin man lifted the curtain of his tent and walked in. His beard, like a wolf's whiskers, spread out to the sides, each hair straight and stiff like a needle. His braid hung down over the collar of his sheepskin robe, leaving a black oil stain.

“We are ready, Khan.”

Tori raised his eyelids and glanced at the man... This was the general in charge of his personal guard, loyal and courageous enough. He had seen better ones, but he had already ruined them all. This was the best he could find.

"Then let's not delay, let's proceed according to the pre-arranged plan..."

"But we haven't received any news from the south yet. We don't know if the Empire will cooperate. Should we wait a little longer?"

"No need."

Torid hung the scabbard on his belt slowly and solemnly. His lips twitched slightly, causing his already graying beard to tremble. His wolf-like eyes were now gleaming with a sharp light, showing no signs of fatigue.

“When it’s time to act, we can’t hesitate. We’re destined not to get a reply, otherwise, a hundred opportunities will slip away in vain, and then we won’t be able to get anything done.”

"Just go ahead and do it... God will protect us."

The Khan, no longer young, spoke with unwavering resolve, while the fierce wind outside the tent whipped his hair. Dark, heavy clouds, as always, blanketed the sky. From somewhere came a wolf's howl, mournful and lonely…

Chapter 486 Battle (3)

Advancing to the beat of the drums, each step solidified the earth beneath their feet. The bugle call rolled in like thunder from the horizon, each sound instilling a sense of awe. The officers' shouts and reprimands rang out from time to time, keeping the young soldiers from having any distracting thoughts. They focused their minds and almost instinctively merged into the ranks of thousands.

No longer thinking too much, they simply acted according to the memories etched into their bones from training. Advancing with the drums, bugles, and officers' commands, their footsteps caused the earth to rumble and stirred up clouds of dust, like an endless tide of steel.

In this sea of ​​steel, the only way to distinguish a unit is by its flag. Each thousand-man unit has its own flag and flagpole to identify its affiliation. Each formation is clearly defined, without any hesitation or ambiguity, as crisp and clean as a sharp blade. Everyone knows where they should stand, every officer is fulfilling their duties, and the flag bearers are raising their insignia and honor high.

Deploying troops in battle formation—a fundamental skill for any general—may sound simple, but mastering it is incredibly difficult. An elite army doesn't always equate to easy command or effortless victory. Sometimes, quite the opposite is true. Your orders must be relayed and ultimately understood correctly by the officers and soldiers in command… A general lacking talent, experience, and a sound command structure will often exhaust themselves only to produce distorted, clumsy, and inefficient formations.

Every arrangement made by a general is related to the lives of soldiers. A foolish mistake could cost hundreds or thousands of lives. A reasonable and effective formation is the most fundamental basis for victory in a battle and the guarantee for the survival of soldiers. If one had to find a suitable standard for this, then Tersolius believed that what he saw before him was the answer, and few people in the world were qualified to question it.

The backbone of the Imperial Legion—heavy infantry clad in iron armor—advanced in formation. Their equipment was so exquisite it was almost extravagant; the polished armor plates gleamed like snowflakes. Behind them, archers and crossbowmen, whose armor was even lighter and more agile, advanced in a looser formation to ensure they did not interfere with each other. Powerful ballistae and catapults were slowly pushed forward by craftsmen. These war machines, made of steel and hardwood, had been patiently maintained before the battle; every axle was smooth and undisturbed. Conscripted auxiliary soldiers were responsible for supplying and protecting these weapons of war, as well as providing the archers and crossbowmen with the arrows they needed.

The cavalry, men and horses clad in heavy armor, surrounded him, though their numbers were far fewer than when he campaigned in the south. Yet, they were still a force capable of easily crushing any enemy formation. The warhorses and armor previously left in the army for ease of movement had been replenished, and were now far superior to their former counterparts. Their equipment had also been repaired and honed once more. Now, like a pride of lions, they perched atop the hill, surrounding the majestic, magnificent, and incomparably splendid double-headed eagle banner.

A group of Imperial light cavalry, numbering around four thousand, provided cover on the left and right flanks of the main army. Their warhorses were protected only by leather plates or were not armored at all. They wore only military uniforms and chainmail, with slats protecting their limbs. Their helmets were adorned with bright and distinctive plumes. They were ready to harass and kill the enemy with dense arrows and long lances. By reducing their protection, they gained the best mobility. The only ones who could compete with them for the initiative were the Kiel who had come to the Empire.

Tens of thousands of troops advanced across the slightly undulating plain, while their target was already waiting in the distance, appearing as a blurry black line from two miles away, like a hidden tide gathering strength.

There are no farmlands here, but its importance to the empire is no less than that of fertile, sprawling fields. This is the empire's most important central horse-breeding ground. Even the war monsters of Passatria once ran on this pasture. The alfalfa and hay planted here nourished the iron hooves of countless empires. Now, however, it has been repeatedly trampled by tens of thousands of feet. But the resilient hay always manages to raise its head again and again, and the damage it suffers will recover its vitality in the days to come.

Battle flags fluttered, their dark mass like a black cloud obscuring the sun, while the distance between the two sides steadily closed, the sound of footsteps rising and falling like waves. The sounds were indistinct, yet carried a terrifying sense of oppression, like a mountain range. The cold glint of steel flashed indistinctly, countless flags fluttered in the wind, drumbeats guided the steps, horns pounded the heart, and horses' hooves kicked up dust.

This was undoubtedly a grand spectacle, so grand that it hadn't happened many times on this planet... But fortunately, he was already very familiar with it, and various orders were conveyed from his mouth from time to time. The officers used flags, drums, bugles, messengers and all other means to achieve his goal, keeping the steel army in a breathtakingly orderly and majestic state. Apart from that, there was no other noise.

The newly arrived soldiers were initially nervous and clenched their teeth, but the orderly formation quickly gave them boundless courage, allowing them to unconsciously blend in. They were filled with a sense of high spirits and fighting will, making their hearts as cold as iron and as hot as fire.

Anyone facing such an army would be under immense pressure, and the shift in morale often has dire consequences. An ordinary army would likely be wavering by now, unable to imagine fighting such an opponent... But their enemy is also the Empire's legions, those three legions that have also conquered barbarians and achieved numerous bloody victories worthy of praise. So they remain on high alert, ready to greet their kin with steel and blood.

Loyalists and rebels converged here, their equipment and training nearly evenly matched, with the loyalists even slightly at a disadvantage. Yet, one thing still gave the loyalists confidence and made them fearless. What made the rebels uneasy and on high alert was the presence of Tersolius. With him around, the rebels' advantages seemed unreliable; their numbers, their experience, their rest and preparation all became weak... Almost no one believed that Turials, who had been in the capital for several years, had the ability to challenge Tersolius, not even he himself was arrogant enough to think so.

In fact, at this moment, due to the tension and panic rising in his heart, he subconsciously dug at his saddle with his fingernails, staring wide-eyed at the every move of the army formation, unwilling to miss any change...

The awe and worship that the people of the Empire held for Tersolius was evident to all. But they could not share his personal experience and understanding of how terrifying this man was... If he had to describe it, he could only say that the day Tersolius stepped onto the battlefield, everything about war was laid bare before him. Victory bowed down before him, obeying his commands, while defeat was filled with dread and avoided at all costs.

He knew he was no match for that man... Fortunately, what he needed to do wasn't to defeat Tersolius by crushing him... He didn't know if anyone in the world could do that, but in any case, that guy was still human, and hadn't reached the point where he was impossible to deal with.

He prayed earnestly for the defeat of Thesolius, almost to the point of supplication… but he didn’t know to whom to pray. The goddess Fuzzgrina would surely not protect him, a rebel, at least not before he became emperor, but he still prayed almost devoutly… as if this could mask his deep-seated fear and dread of that man… just like the powerful figures behind him who had never ignored this greatest threat and obstacle, and had begun to mobilize almost all their forces to try to destroy him.

Time will reveal the final outcome... and no one can escape it.

Chapter 487 Battle (4)

An eagle soars through the sky, its broad, powerful wings cutting through the air and scattering dust with each flap. Sunlight dapples golden fragments on its brown feathers, and its hooked beak, tipped with a black gradient, resembles an unpolished piece of steel. Its strong, powerful talons are hidden among the soft down on its tail, concealing their dangerous sharpness. Only its sharp, amber eyes scan the land below, shrouded in a thin layer of mist.

This land is no longer peaceful and tranquil. The herds of horses that once grazed here have long since disappeared, carefully protected by their owners. The pikas that used to roam the grasslands have all hidden in their burrows. The butterflies that used to flit among the flowers have been frightened away by the smell of iron. Everything here is about to be ravaged by war.

The distance between the two sides had reached a dangerous level. If they got any closer, the archers' arrows would be raining down on the enemy's formation. Before deciding to engage in battle, both sides would tacitly maintain at least this distance to avoid being injured before the battle even begins. This would prevent them from being caught off guard and damaging their own morale, while also allowing them to calmly deploy their troops and respond promptly within sight.

One can imagine that before long, this place will be a river of blood, a mountain of corpses… But at least for now, a terrifying atmosphere that is almost suffocating remains as rigid as the mountains. No one has bled yet, no one has fallen, and screams and the sounds of fighting have not yet become the norm here. Only the flags flutter in the breeze, and only the plumes of helmets sway slightly with each step.

Tens of thousands of troops on both sides were waiting for an order, an order to go forward and fight. For this, they were clad in iron armor, holding weapons, and stood ready under the gray sky... It was a good day with just the right amount of light and the perfect temperature, a perfect place to bleed their blood dry.

This silence did not last long. Soon, as Thesolius swung his left hand, a large contingent of cavalry swept along both flanks. But they did not come to scatter arrows or attack weak points; instead, from a distance of an arrow's length, they began to shout in unison. Their voices, combined, were powerful and penetrating, enough for the enemy troops arrayed against them to hear clearly:

"Rebels! Commander Tersolius awaits here. Let your leader come out and answer us!!"

"Rebels! Commander Tersolius awaits here. Let your leader come out and answer us!!!"

...The cavalrymen galloped back and forth, scattering their words again and again, while also fully exercising their subjective initiative to embellish their speech with sarcasm, insults, and foul language.

Shouting like that is obviously exhausting, so they even take turns, with those whose throats are dry and sore drinking plenty of water before continuing their matchmaking. They are like a flock of ominous crows, relentlessly harassing the enemy, but unlike the arrows they hurl, their words are clearly attacking something more fragile yet also more resilient... And they have visibly achieved results; there are subtle ripples in the enemy soldiers' formations. Although each individual movement may be small, if thousands of them do so, it will surge in like a storm, noticeable even to a blind man.