Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

He rubbed his messy hair, then put on the red cotton headscarf and fastened his helmet...

His longbow lay beside him. When the bowstring was unstrung, the yew-wood-lined longbow was like a stick that was slightly thinner at both ends. He needed to hold the bow tip with one hand and press down on the bow handle with the other hand to get the bowstring into the groove before it could be used.

He deftly strung his longbow, fastened the leather quiver to his waist, hung his sharp longsword on his left side for immediate use, and carried a small round shield on his back for protection in critical moments.

The gleaming chainmail on his body was something he couldn't bear to take off even when he slept; Kochkin was afraid that this precious thing would disappear the moment he opened his eyes.

Even when sleeping, I didn't take off the leg wraps. It's a troublesome thing to put on, and it requires a certain skill.

Realizing he was still a bit dazed, the young man slapped himself hard, which finally snapped him out of it. He hurriedly pushed open the small wooden door in front of him, and what came into view was the wide city wall.

"Stop standing there daydreaming, you silly boy. It's your turn to take over my job. Keep a close eye on those pointy-eared guys. If they get close to the city walls, your head will be chopped off tomorrow."

A mountain man with a full beard, carrying his greatsword, walked over, patted Kochkin hard on the shoulder as he passed by, and then went into the hut.

Kochkin adjusted his equipment and took on the guard duty on the city wall.

He didn't light a fire next to himself, that would have been the most foolish thing to do, as if he were telling the skilled archer that he was standing right there.

The towering battlements have been damaged quite a bit in the past two days, but there are still enough to hide everyone behind. If you pay a little attention, from the fields outside, the entire city wall looks like it's completely deserted...

"Giggle!!!..."

The rooster crowed for the second time, and the sky gradually turned a pale white. It was the early morning, a time when people's spirits were most tired and vulnerable.

The young mountain man, who had been dozing in the cabin for several hours but was still a little sleepy, shook his head vigorously and rubbed the corners of his eyes.

His task was very important. Starting yesterday morning, preparations began to be made for the entire city wall, with bundles of arrows and various materials such as stones, logs, and oil being transported up.

Everyone knew what was going to happen next... and they couldn't help but be nervous. What was about to happen was not a fight between villages over water, but a brutal war in which more than 10,000 people from both sides attacked each other like meat grinders.

In such a war, anyone could be ground to dust. Even those who hope to gain wealth and honor in the war cannot easily overcome the fear of death.

The mountain people and slaves waiting on the city wall had all nocked their arrows into their bowstrings and quivers, so that they could deliver a fatal blow the moment they saw the enemy.

But when exactly will the enemy launch their attack?

He squinted and gazed at the vast camp in the distance.

The camp, which could accommodate tens of thousands of people, occupied almost the entire field. The rice seedlings that had just been planted in the spring had been trampled to death, and it was impossible for them to grow any more crops.

For the entire year, this fertile field has yielded nothing...

A wisp of white smoke suddenly rose slowly from the distance; it was the smoke rising from the soldiers' cooking pots.

Another wisp of white smoke appeared from the side, followed by one after another, the smoke from cooking food stretching endlessly, just like a newly grown poplar sapling swaying in the breeze.

…………

"Get ready, get ready! Move all the arrows to the city walls, hurry up! You lazybones, the Hols are about to attack!"

At the foot of the city wall, a group of tents were filled with fully armed cavalrymen who rushed in and made a ruckus. They kicked awake everyone who was still sleeping with their iron-plated boots and eventually shouted orders to drive them to assemble in the center of the open space.

Soon the city walls were filled with mountain archers and slave crossbowmen. Looking at the dense smoke, everyone knew that the Hols were having their last meal before the attack.

The same smoke rose from the city. Even before the stars had finished twinkling in the sky, food preparation had already begun in the city. Bread baked yesterday was slightly heated and served.

Hot soup, contained in a huge earthenware pot, was carried up the city wall by several strong residents. Everyone came with their own bowls, poured the soup into them, soaked their bread in the soup, and ate it all in one go, completely dazed.

As the rooster crowed its last, light shone in the sky, turning half the sky a bright red. In the clear fields, the Hols were making preparations.

The Holstein heavy infantry, armed with shields and short swords, were covered in heavy chainmail, their helmets adorned with bright feathers, and they were arranged in square formations.

A large number of Holstein archers were preparing to charge into the barricades in front of the city, using the cover to exchange fire with the crossbowmen on the city walls.

Although many of these shields were destroyed by the catapults on the city wall, they were very easy to make. Many people carried these shields and prepared to rush to the city wall.

Holsian officers, clad in fine chainmail and scale armor, strode among the soldiers, loudly encouraging them and promising the riches that awaited them upon the capture of the city.

Upon hearing the news that the city could be looted for three days after its fall, a deafening cheer erupted from the Holsian army. Every soldier, with bloodshot eyes, raised their shields, their greed and desire fueling their powerful drive to act.

The soldiers' unified cheers coalesced into a massive sound wave that crashed towards the city. The birds that had gathered at the top of the towers fluttered away in panic, leaving behind a few shimmering feathers.

Alpert's wealth was widely known throughout the kingdom and even the empire. This border city was able to easily amass a vast fortune through its annual trade taxes.

Not to mention all the other things, it was a rare feast for everyone.

Of course, the premise of a feast is that it must be eaten... otherwise it is meaningless.

The three heavy catapults started working again. They had worn down considerably after several days of use, but the Holsians didn't care. They needed to take the city today.

As the horns sounded, colorful flags fluttered in the wind among the Hols' ranks, accompanied by waves of shouts that rose and fell like rice seedlings in a paddy field.

The horn sounded once again, and every Holstein soldier raised his shield, stacking the sides of the shields together to form a tight defensive shield wall, protecting his front and head.

The horn sounded for the third time, and the Hols archers, carrying heavy shields, began to advance. Staring at the sparse arrows, they slowly reached their positions, then quickly dug into the ground and buried the shields.

After doing all this, they drew their bows and crossbows and began shooting arrows at the city walls in an attempt to suppress the defenders.

The horn sounded for the fourth time, and the Holstein infantry, carrying ladders and standing ready, let out a shout and began to march forward. The dark green tide, gleaming with a metallic sheen, surged towards the city walls, determined to completely engulf them...

The siege has begun.

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

"Ready! Ready!"

The slave licked his dry lips, gripped the hardwood crossbow in his hand, a large bundle of bolts hanging from his waist, and a wooden bucket beside him filled with arrows and shorter bolts.

The crossbow was already nocked, its sharp, gleaming arrows ready to fly out at any moment, piercing through armor and flesh, damaging internal organs, and taking lives.

A deafening roar of shouts and battle cries surged up from below the city walls, almost crushing him to the ground... but his fingers had stopped trembling. At this moment, the slave did not see himself as a person, but as a tool, a tool to draw a crossbow and release an arrow.

The Hols were approaching the city walls, taking advantage of the defenders' lack of firepower to get close as quickly as possible.

This was a rare bargain; every subsequent stretch of distance would require them to pay with blood and lives.

As the reputation drew ever closer, the dense footsteps were as terrifying as rolling thunder in the sky, and the soldiers' fierce shouts were equally chilling.

Ultimately, this was their first time on the battlefield... all their fear and hesitation were understandable... but once they put on their armor and took up their weapons, they had no chance or right to retreat.

The Hols were moving faster and faster. Some were so overwhelmed that they forgot to raise their shields high, while others had arms that ached so much that they could no longer maintain their previous running posture.

The defenders did not fire any arrows, which gave them the illusion that they could safely reach the city walls.

And now, they will pay the price for this illusion...

"Ready!... Release!"

At a command, all the slaves simultaneously aimed their crossbows at the army advancing from below the city walls. They didn't need to aim carefully; the dense crowd was enough to catch any arrows fired at them.

The iron bar pressed down, releasing the mechanism, and the powerful crossbow arm shot out short, sharp bolts at extremely high speed.

The arrows fired from the high ground by the heavy crossbows had great force and power. Caught off guard, the Holsmen fell down in droves like wheat that had been cut down.

Before they could maintain their defenses, another volley of crossbow bolts rained down...

Blood splattered, screams filled the air. Those whose internal organs had been pierced died on the spot and remained motionless, while those whose limbs were injured and who were seriously wounded crawled around the battlefield, howling in pain.

The crossbowmen took turns firing arrows, concentrating their fire on a specific area under the command of their commander. The arrows, denser than a storm, carried terrifying force, easily piercing through people's bodies, shattering the chainmail rings, and embedding themselves deep into the lining below.

The mountain archers were given greater freedom; they were allowed to fire arrows based on their own judgment, primarily targeting the Holstein crossbowmen who were hiding behind shields and continuously firing at the city walls…

The best hunters in these mountains are skilled archers, capable of hitting a target from a hundred paces away. To obtain the best fur, they can shoot their prey through the eyes without damaging the rest of the fur.

At this moment, they hid their bodies behind the heavy battlements, waiting for the Holstein archers to peek out and fire their arrows before suddenly flashing out and accurately shooting an arrow through their heads.

This tactic proved consistently effective. The Hols archers suffered heavy losses, falling to their deaths one after another after being shot in vital areas. Some were even pierced by two or three arrows in succession, pinning them directly to the ground.

One Holstein archer position after another was cleared from under the city walls, but their shots from below were mostly blocked by the thick battlements.

Before long, the Hols archers were suppressed and lost their initial morale. Some even dared not stick their heads out to fire arrows, fearing that they would be shot through the head by a stray arrow from who-knows-where, just like their comrades.

The catapults on the city wall also began to operate, with earthenware jars filled with flammable oil and other accelerants, tightly bound together with hemp rope for necessary protection.

Now the jar was placed in the trebuchet's basket, the oil-soaked hemp rope on it was lit by a torch, and then, as the mechanism was released, the powerful torque generated by the animal tendons propelled it out, smashing it into the Holstein infantry crammed below the city walls.

Each Holstein infantryman huddled behind his shield, listening to the sound of crossbow bolts piercing his shield like raindrops, desperately pushing forward.

A red earthenware pot suddenly crashed into the middle of them, and before they could react, the burning hemp rope on it ignited the kerosene.

The flying sparks landed on the Hels soldiers, quickly igniting their clothes. Their innate fear of fire caused them to panic and break formation, only to be shot down by a hail of arrows in the blink of an eye.

A vacuum zone immediately appeared in the formation, burning with raging flames. Everyone avoided it as much as possible. Those unlucky souls who were not killed by the crossbow bolts struggled desperately in the flames, running around and spreading the fire on their bodies to others.

These unfortunate souls were quickly hacked to death by their own comrades, while the Hols, emboldened by their immense wealth and greed, stubbornly pushed forward their ranks.

Every now and then, an unlucky soul would be pierced through by a powerful crossbow bolt, along with his shield and arm. In the intense pain, he would loosen his defenses, and his fate was self-evident.

Having suffered the expected heavy casualties, the infantry finally began to approach the city wall. The long ladders carried by them had metal hooks at the top, making them difficult to push down once they were hooked onto the wall... and this was their most effective siege weapon today.

Amidst a tremendous cheer, a ladder was finally hoisted onto the walls of Alpert.

Chapter 63 Siege (2)

Using a shield to protect its head, it frantically climbed the ladder, its legs never having been so agile, as if they had their own will cooperating with its hands.

almost!almost!

The Holstein soldier's eyes widened, bloodshot with excitement, filled with a bloodlust and a thirst for wealth. His sharp dagger gripped his hand, ready to take a life at any moment…

Three quarters left!

His mouth was slightly open, revealing blood-red teeth, and his entire face was contorted, the wound on his cheek torn by the crossbow bolt writhing like an earthworm.

A dark figure suddenly appeared on the battlements, holding a crossbow with arrows already loaded!

Despair quickly filled his eyes, but before he could make a move, the crossbow bolt pierced his eye and went all the way to the back of his head, where it was stopped by his helmet...

His limbs lost their strength, and he tumbled down the ladder. His heavy body knocked the two Hols soldiers behind him down with him, and they fell heavily to the ground, motionless.

………………

The Holstein soldiers frantically climbed the ladders, while a hail of crossbow bolts rained down on their sides from the protruding ramparts on either side.

At such close range, the chainmail on their bodies could hardly stop the crossbow bolts anymore, and every now and then, Hols soldiers would be hit by several arrows and fall off the ladder.

Even if they were lucky enough to climb to the top of the ladder, the slave soldiers who were already on high alert would immediately stab them down with their spears.

In an instant, the Holsteins attacking the city fell from the city walls one after another like dumplings being thrown into a pot. They had no chance of getting up again, and their miserable howls and angry roars buzzed like a swarm of wasps disturbed.

A huge rock slammed down with a shrill sound, sending five slave soldiers flying. Their screams ceased mid-air, and they landed on the ground as twisted corpses.

The trebuchet's boom was still swaying precariously, and in the distance, the Hols were turning the winch to set it in place. To date, their most devastating losses had been the work of these heavy machines…

As the distant rapier soared into the sky once more, all the slaves and mountain people cowered behind the battlements at the command. Huge rocks crashed heavily onto a tower, and flying marble fragments knocked down many Holsteins and careless slaves who were climbing.